The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65 The Reunion at Vargo’s

Ryan’s POV

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Ryan didn’t drive home. He could still taste the bitterness of Kimberly’s words lingering on his tongue, and he wasn’t ready to take that tension back into their house. Eve deserved peace tonight, not another silence filled with ghosts.

The city lights bled into one another as he drove, the night air thick and cool. Eve sat quietly beside him, her fingers laced in her lap, the soft hum of the car wrapping around them like a fragile truce. She hadn’t spoken since they’d left the accident scene, and he hadn’t pushed her to. Every few seconds, he glanced her way, catching the faint reflection of passing lights in her eyes.

“Are we going home?” she asked finally, her voice quiet, careful.

“No,” he said simply.

She turned to him, brows furrowing. “Then where?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he made a turn she recognized. Her heart skipped as they passed the familiar cobblestone street lined with old lanterns and flower pots. The glowing sign

ahead made her breath catch.

Vargo’s.

Her lips parted in surprise.

Ryan parked outside the restaurant, turning off the engine but keeping his hands on the wheel for a moment. The golden light spilling from the windows reflected in his eyes.

Eve blinked, her throat tightening. “Ryan…

He turned to her finally, his voice softer than she’d heard it in years. “I thought maybe… we could eat here tonight.”

For a second, she couldn’t find her words, Memories flooded her, late nights spent at those tables, laughter echoing through the kitchen, the warmth of belonging. She hadn’t been back since she’d left for Westwood.

“I didn’t think you’d know this place,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His mouth twitched in a faint smile. “I had to.”

That simple statement disarmed her. She didn’t answer, just nodded, pushing the door open

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and stepping out into the cool night.

Claim

The moment she walked through the entrance, a bell chimed above the door, and familiar faces turned in surprise.

“Eve?”

It was Marco, one of the servers. His eyes widened, and in seconds he was shouting toward the kitchen. “Mr. Vargo! You’re not going to believe this, Eve’s here!”

The kitchen door swung open with a rush of steam and laughter. Mr Vargo, his voice booming before he even saw her.

“Who the hell is yelling during service?” Then he froze. “Eve Ashbrook, as I live and breathe!”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. A real, unguarded laugh that seemed to light up the entire

room.

“Mr. Vargo,” she breathed, smiling as he crossed the room and swept her into a bear hug.

He pulled back, studying her face, his eyes softening. “Look at you. You vanished like a ghost, and now you just show up, glowing and beautiful and pregnant.”

Eve flushed, laughing again. “I didn’t mean to vanish.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, waving his hand. “You’re back. That’s what matters.”

Ryan stood a few steps behind, watching quietly as the staff gathered around her, voices overlapping with excitement. They bombarded her with questions, where she’d been, what she’d been doing, if she was back for good.

He watched the way she smiled at them, shy but radiant, how her laughter came easily here. The sight struck something deep inside him, a pang of pride, and guilt all tangled together.

She belonged here, among warmth and noise and people who had loved her while he’d broke her spirit.

Mr. Vargo’s eyes landed on him then, and the older man’s face split into a grin. “Ah, the husband,” he said. “The famous Mr. Ashbrook. Last time you came here, I almost threw you

out.”

Eve’s head whipped around, startled. “Wait, you came here?”

Ryan raised a brow, faint amusement flickering in his eyes. “He’s exaggerating.”

Vargo chuckled. “Exaggerating? You barged into my restaurant few months ago like a storm, shouting for Eve. My staff thought you were an inspector or the mafia.”

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The restaurant burst into laughter, and even Eve’s cheeks turned red as she tried to hide a

smile.

Vargo laughed again, clapping Ryan on the back. “Good to see you’ve learned to behave.”

Ryan smirked faintly. “Trying to.”

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They found a table near the window, and Vargo personally took their order, refusing to let anyone else handle it. Eve’s old colleagues peeked over occasionally, grinning and whispering

to each other.

The smells of garlic, butter, and roasted herbs filled the air, and for the first time that evening,

Eve felt her chest loosen.

Ryan watched her from across the table, his eyes softer than she remembered. “You’re different here,” he said quietly.

She looked up. “Different?”

He nodded. “Lighter.”

She smiled faintly. “This place… it was the first time I felt like I was good at something. Like I belonged somewhere without my name or my family defining me.”

He listened, his gaze unwavering. “You were always good at everything. I just didn’t say it enough.”

She looked down at her napkin, her throat tightening. “You didn’t say it at all.”

He didn’t deny it. “Then let me start now.”

The food arrived, a spread of creamy pasta, grilled fish, and roasted vegetables. They ate quietly at first, the comfort of shared silence settling between them. Around them, laughter rose and fell from other tables, blending with soft jazz playing through the speakers.

When Vargo stopped by to check on them, he glanced at their plates and grinned. “I see you still eat like a bird, Eve. And you,” he gestured at Ryan, “still look like you’re plotting world domination.”

Ryan chuckled. “Old habits.”

“You ever going to relax?” Vargo teased.

Ryan’s eyes shifted to Eve. “I’m working on it.”

Vargo’s grin softened. “Good man. You’ve got the right reason to try.”

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Claim

After he walked away, Eve sighed, pushing her plate slightly aside. “I missed this,” she said. ” All of it. The chaos. The noise. The smell of burnt bread when someone forgets the timer.”

Ryan smiled. “You were happy here.”

She nodded. “I was. Not because it was easy, but because it was mine. Every mistake, every

win. It was mine.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low. “You can have that again.”

Her eyes flicked to his. “What do you mean?”

“Vargo’s always expanding,” he said. “You could help him run the next branch. I could invest,”

She shook her head immediately. “Ryan, no. That’s not what I meant.”

He frowned. “Then what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to take something and turn it into another part of your empire. I just want to belong to something that’s mine. Something small. Something real.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but they sank into him all the same. He nodded slowly. “Fair

enough.”

He leaned back, studying her face. The lamplight caught the edges of her features, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the soft line of her jaw. She was smiling again, talking with one of the waitresses who’d come by to hug her. But her eyes, her eyes were still guarded, flicking toward him every now and then as though to make sure he was real, as though she still expected him to change.

He couldn’t blame her.

He had been a storm for too long. She had learned to brace herself every time he spoke. Now he was asking her to unlearn it overnight.

When she turned back to him, the corners of her lips lifted in a tired smile. “You’re quiet,” she

said.

He shrugged. “Just watching.”

“Watching what?”

“You,” he said simply.

Her breath caught, and she looked away quickly, pretending to rearrange the napkin. “You shouldn’t stare. It’s rude.”

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“Then tell me to stop.”

She didn’t.

He chuckled softly, reaching for his glass of wine. “So, do you still make that ridiculous lemon tart everyone hated except you?”

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