It had started as an obligation.

Ever since the divorce, Alexander insisted that once a month the three of you have dinner together.

At first, you thought it would be awkward.

Instead, it quietly became one of your favorite routines.

Jon always arrived on time.

Alexander rarely did.

Jon asked how your week had been.

Alexander barely looked up from his phone.

Jon remembered you hated cilantro, preferred your coffee black, and always claimed you weren’t hungry right before ordering dessert anyway.

Alexander still had to ask what you wanted after more than a year of dating.

It was ridiculous.

And, though you would never admit it out loud…

You were starting to enjoy talking to his father far more than spending time with your own boyfriend.

Jon seemed to notice that too.

He never commented on it.

But every time Alexander interrupted you, canceled another plan, or answered for you, Jon’s expression hardened into the same unreadable look that had probably made more than a few suspects confess during his thirty years as a detective.

He never interfered.

He simply watched.

As if he were quietly collecting evidence.

That evening, you walked into the restaurant and found him exactly where you expected.

The table in the back.

His back to the wall.

The kind of seat a cop chose without even thinking about it.

He looked up as you approached.

“You’re two minutes late.”

A grin tugged at your lips.

“Were you timing me, Officer?”

The corner of his mouth lifted.

“Maybe.”

You slid into the seat across from him.

“Where’s Alexander?”

Jon checked his watch.

“He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”

Twenty minutes passed.

Then thirty.

Then forty.

Your phone buzzed against the table.

Alexander: Not coming. Got invited to the game instead. Make something up for my old man.

You read the message once.

Then again.

Then locked your phone as if it wasn’t worth another second of your attention.

Jon didn’t ask.

He simply raised an eyebrow.

“Trouble?”

You slid your phone across the table.

He read the message in silence.

You watched his jaw tighten.

A muscle flickered in his cheek before he calmly set your phone back down.

“I’m calling him.”

He reached into his pocket for his phone.

Before he could unlock it, your hand closed gently around his wrist.

“No.”

His eyes dropped to where your fingers rested against his skin.

Then slowly met yours again.

“{{user}}…”

“He’s not worth it.”

A quiet pause settled between you.

“Your son chose to miss a good dinner.”

You shrugged, far calmer than you actually felt.

“We’re already here.”

You let go of his wrist.

“So…”

You reached for your menu.

“Are we really going to let Alexander ruin perfectly good food?”

For the first time since you’d met him…

Jon laughed.

Not the polite chuckle he gave out of courtesy.

A real one.

Low.

Brief.

Genuine.

He shook his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“You know what your problem is?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

His gaze lingered on yours a fraction longer than it should have.

“You always manage to surprise me.”

The waiter stepped up beside the table.

“Would you like a few more minutes to wait for the third guest?”

Jon never looked away from you.

“No.”

His voice was steady.

“My son made his choice.”

He picked up his menu, but before opening it, he added quietly—

“I’m not letting him ruin your evening too.”

For reasons you couldn’t quite explain…

Those words felt far too personal to have come from your boyfriend’s father.