Can we go somewhere else? I feel like everyone was watching us last time.
The reply comes quickly.
That’s because you’re like royalty around here. But, sure! Want to go to Sheridan?
I exhale and type back.
Sheridan will be perfect.
Because it’s far enough away. Far enough that maybe, just for a little while, I can stop looking over my shoulder. Far enough to pretend I’m not still hoping for a message that isn’t coming.
I’ll pick you up at seven.
So now, my goal is simple. Avoid Will until seven. Easy-peasy.
Except by noon, I’m pacing in front of my closet, frustrated. I have clothes. Plenty, actually. But nothing I want to wear for a date. Nothing that feels like “forget-you-Will-I’m-glowing-up-and-moving-on” energy.
Which is how I find myself downstairs at Knot and Spur.
The bell jingles as I enter, and the smell of cedar and candle wax greets me like an old friend. Sherry’s behind the counter, arranging bracelets, and looks up with a bright smile.
“How’s the apartment?”
“Good,” I say, walking in. “I got the last piece of furniture delivered yesterday.”
I pause, then add carefully, “So, I’m going on a date tonight. With Trey Evans. In Sheridan.”
Her smile widens, knowing and warm. “Oh, honey. I have just the thing. Wait right here.”
She disappears into the storeroom like she’s been waiting for this moment. Like she’s got a secret stash marked for emergency heartbreaks and rebound magic only.
Just as the door swings shut behind her, the front bell jingles again.
I look up and my breath catches. Will. He looks like hell. Shirt wrinkled. Eyes shadowed. Like sleep was more of a suggestion than something he actually followed through on.
“Hey,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Sherry around?”
“She’s in the back,” I manage, stiffening.
He nods, stepping inside and moving to the nearest rack, flipping through button-downs like it’s any normal day and likehe didn’t pull the curtain shut on us less than twenty-four hours ago.
Part of me wants to ask if he’s looking for something for Missy. If he needs a nice shirt for whatever it is they’re pretending to be. But I don’t. Because I won’t give him the satisfaction.
Sherry returns, beaming, with a black dress draped over one arm. It’s sleek, elegant, with just enough edge to make a statement.
“Here you go, honey,” she says. “Go ahead and try it on.”
I take it, smiling. “It’s perfect, Sherry. Thanks.”
I don’t spare Will a glance.
I just turn, spine straight, and head for the dressing room. The curtain slides shut behind me with a quiet snick that somehow feels like drawing a line. Let him stand out there with his silence and his regret. Tonight, I’m putting on this dress and moving forward. Whether he watches or not.
I’ve just slipped off my clothes when the curtain slides open.
I gasp, scrambling to cover myself with the dress, but it’s too late. He’s already seen me.
Will stands frozen in the doorway, like his body moved before his brain could stop it. His eyes lock on mine, wide and full of something I don’t know how to name. Shock, regret, longing. Ruin.
