Back at my desk, I try to focus on my work. Lines of code blur in front of me while my thoughts circle the same stupid loop of trying to find the hidden meaning that Cole secretly meant when he said it was a mistake.
I scroll through emails. Refresh Slack. Check my phone again. Nothing.
By noon, I’ve read the same bug report four times and absorbed none of it. Every time the office door opens, I flinch like maybe somehow, impossibly, he’s about to walk in.
“Earth to Hailey,” Priya says, waving a hand in front of my face. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, forcing a smile. “Just… brain’s fried. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep.”
“Same,” she says. “I’m grabbing lunch soon if you want to come.”
“I might take an early one,” I tell her. “Walk. Clear my head.”
“Good call.” She stands, eyeing me with mock suspicion. “If you secretly have a hot date, I expect details.”
I snort. “Trust me, I’d tell you. The only hot thing I’m meeting today is my coffee.”
She heads off, and I exhale, sagging back in my chair. My phone sits face down next to my keyboard, but I can feel it like a heartbeat.
Fine, just one last check.
But of course, there’s still nothing from Cole. I bite my lip and force myself to close my laptop.
Time for a reset. Fresh air. Sunshine. Coffee. Anything to remind myself there’s more to Denver than one complicated, off-limits man.
I grab my purse, loop my scarf around my neck, and head for the elevators.
It’s one of those crisp winter afternoons where Denver tricks you into thinking it’s spring. The sun’s out, the snow’s melting in little glittery puddles, and for a second I convince myself I’m fine.
See? All you needed was some fresh air. You’re fine. Totally fine.
I tug my scarf tighter and head down the block. There’s this cute place I noticed last week I’ve been wanting to check out. Inside smells like heaven. Espresso, sugar, cinnamon. The instant pick-me-up I need.
I stare at the menu as the line inches forward. There’s an array of gourmet sandwiches and grain bowls as well as fancy mocktail elixirs that promise to make you feel rejuvenated. I’m next in line so I step up to the counter, poised to order when the low rumble of a familiar laugh cuts through the noise.
My entire body goes still. It’s not possible. It can’t be. I turn my head, casual and slow, like I’m just stretching my neck, and sure enough, it’s Cole.
Sitting two tables away by the window, sunlight hitting his jaw just so, sleeves rolled up, a navy flannel that makes his eyes look stupidly blue. He’s leaning slightly forward, listening to the woman across from him.
She’s gorgeous, stunningly so. She looks exactly like the kind of woman all of those rom-coms I watched growing up made me think I’d be. She laughs at something he says and touches his wrist lightly, the kind of easy, confident touch that screams we’ve done this before.
My stomach drops straight to my boots. The barista calls “Next!” but my throat feels glued shut.
It shouldn’t sting. We’re nothing. One kiss—two, technically—doesn’t make us something. But God, watching him sit there, looking relaxed and charming, while I’ve spent all morning dissecting his silence?
It’s humiliating.
The woman leans closer, saying something I can’t hear, and Cole smiles. Not the half smirk I usually get, but a real, easy smile. Like he’s comfortable. Like he’s fine.
The barista tries again. “Miss?”
I jerk my head toward the counter. “Oh, uh—medium vanilla latte, please.” My voice cracks halfway through, and I have to clear my throat to finish the order.
When I glance back, he’s still there. Except now he’s looking right at me. Our eyes lock for one awful heartbeat. His expression doesn’t change. No surprise, no warmth, no apology. Just that calm, unreadable stare. Then, like it’s nothing, he looks away and goes right back to his conversation. It’s such a small motion, so casual, but it slices clean through me.
The barista stares at me like this is my first time ever ordering coffee. “Name?”
“Hailey,” I manage, trying to smile.
