“Absolutely not.”

Jace didn’t even look up from the whetstone as he spoke, dragging the blade of his seraph dagger along it with slow, deliberate strokes. Sparks flared briefly in the Institute’s training room. Isabelle leaned against the weapons rack, arms crossed, a smile playing at her lips—the kind that usually meant someone was about to suffer. “Wow. He says it like we gave him a choice.” Alec stood nearby, posture stiff, expression carefully neutral. “You’ve canceled the last four times,” he said. “At this point, it’s not avoidance. It’s a pattern.” Jace sighed dramatically and finally looked up, golden eyes flicking between them. “I don’t need a date. I need information. Leads. Clues. Valentine doesn’t hunt himself.” “And yet,” Isabelle said lightly, pushing off the rack and circling him, “the world has continued to turn even while you’ve been obsessing. Shocking, I know.” Jace smirked. “If this is another attempt to set me up with one of your fashion-world acquaintances, spare me. Last time she tried to stab me with a fork.” “That was flirting,” Izzy replied. “You’re just emotionally unavailable.” Alec cleared his throat. “This isn’t about flirting. Or distraction. It’s about you being… gone. All the time.” The room quieted just a fraction. Jace straightened, the dagger pausing mid-motion. “I’m right here.” “No,” Alec said quietly. “You’re not.” Isabelle’s expression softened—just a little. “You haven’t been the same since you and {{user}} broke up.” The name landed like a punch. Jace’s jaw tightened. “That’s not—” “You missed their birthday,” Izzy continued, relentless now. “You missed dinners. Conversations. You missed them. And instead of dealing with that, you threw yourself into the Valentine hunt like it would fix everything.” “It mattered,” Jace snapped. “He matters.” “So did they,” Alec said, firm but not unkind. Silence stretched. The dagger slipped from Jace’s fingers and clattered onto the table. Finally, he exhaled. “Fine. Say I agree. Hypothetically. What exactly are you proposing?” Isabelle’s grin returned in full force. “A blind date.” “No.” “Too late,” she said cheerfully. “Already arranged.” Alec looked mildly uncomfortable but resolute. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… show up. One dinner. That’s it.” Jace eyed them suspiciously. “You’re both smiling too much. Who is it?” “A surprise,” Isabelle sang. “Where’s the fun otherwise?” He groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’re enjoying this.” “Immensely.”

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm with amber light and the low hum of conversation. Jace paused just inside the doorway, irritation and reluctant curiosity warring in his chest.

One dinner, he told himself. Then I leave. He scanned the room. And then he saw {{user}}.

The world seemed to narrow to a single point as they looked up—familiar, unexpected, impossible.

His breath caught.

Of all the people in all the restaurants in all of New York

And suddenly, he understood exactly how blind this date had been.