“Meaning sometimes it jams. Or spits out the same page twice for no reason.” He shrugged, pouring the last of the French press into his own cup.
I lifted my brows. “Have you tried just giving it a good whack?”
“No, it hasn’t come to that,” he said as he shook his head.
Back in my room, I set the mug on the nightstand and looked at the suitcase in the corner. Our living arrangement was always meant to be temporary. The next step, finding a place of my own, was just logical.
Sensible.
But that wasn’t the only reason.
While I was here, there’d be no space for him to find his person. To fall in love with someone more like Nora.
Well. That stings.
I ate lunch at my desk, one hand wrapped around a fork, the other tapping through tabs on my laptop. A blank spreadsheet blinked back at me. The column headers already neatly labeled:Location. Price. Square footage. Distance to Nolan.
The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the apartment. Perfect. No chance of Liam walking in mid-search.
I clicked through listings, bookmarking a sunny two-bedroom with a balcony, then immediately wondering if it would feel too quiet at night. My fingers hesitated over the trackpad before I added it to the spreadsheet anyway.
Half a salad later, I was cross-checking commute times and making color-coded notes. The practical part of me, efficient, decisive, liked the order of it. The other part, the one that noticed my chest tightening with every “save,” kept pretending it was just the posture of leaning over my laptop.
The heat kicked on and hummed through the vents. One more listing. Two more. I told myself I was being proactive, not preemptive. That this was about giving him his space back.
I was halfway to the sink with my empty mug when I nearly collided with him in the hallway. Dark jeans. Sharp leather shoes. A charcoal sweater that looked far too soft. The words slipped out before I could catch them. “Well… don’t you look handsome.”
He stilled, blinking at me like I’d spoken in another language. A faint flush crept up his neck. “Uh, thank you.”
He reached for his coat on the hook, fumbling one sleeve before managing the other.
“I’m… going out,” he added, like I couldn’t tell from the keys in his hand.
And then he was gone.
I stood there in the quiet, my fingers tightening around the mug.
Going out. Dressed like that?
My mind filled in the blanks.
Let It Happen
Liam
The phone buzzed on the counter just as I finished rinsing my mug. Megan.
Hey—I’m in town. Sorry for the last-minute text.
I stared at the screen, thumb hovering, jaw tight. Didn’t reply.
The three dots pulsed like she was standing across the room, waiting for me to say something.
Can you do late lunch? Early dinner? Just had something cancel.
I leaned back against the counter, arms folded. There’d been months, years, when I told myself the timing was bad. Too close to playoffs, too much noise in my head, too much risk of prying open doors I’d nailed shut.
The dots came back.
