Reliable.
Just like the numbers he teaches.
“Heard that, did you?”I reply, smiling as I hand him his usual—bran muffin and black coffee.Of course.
“Reliable habits,” he says, grinning.“It’s one of the things I appreciate about you.”
Reliable.
Right.
It’s not sexy, but hey, beggars and all that.
I smile back because that’s what I do.
Because reliable is good.
Predictable is safe.
And the wildfire version of love?The kind that steals your breath and changes your destiny?Well, that burned out a long time ago.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
“So what do you say we go out Friday night?”Justin asks, sliding a ten across the counter.
I take it automatically, turning toward the register.
“Friday is the school play,” I remind him.
Just saying it out loud makes something bright and warm flicker in my chest.Bella has a tiny role—a few lines and a background moment—but she’s been practicing like she’s headlining Broadway.
I’ve heard her rehearsing in her room at night, the floorboards creaking as she paces out her blocking, whispering her lines with surprising emotion.
She’s good.
Really good.
The kind of good that makes my throat tighten because maybe, just maybe, she got a little piece of Bonnie’s magic.
“Oh crap, you’re right,” Justin says, snapping his fingers.“I’m supposed to chaperone.”
He frowns, then brightens like he’s solved a math problem.“Even better—I’ll see you there.”
I hand him his change, our fingers brushing for a second.
Nothing sparks.Nothing shifts.
It’s justcontact.Simple.Expected.
“After,” he continues, leaning on the counter, “maybe we can grab a bite?Late dinner somewhere?”
“Um…” I plaster on a polite smile.“Sure.Let’s do that.”
His shoulders relax like he was genuinely worried I’d say no.And I feel a pang of guilt because I want to want this.I want to feel something other than polite acceptance.
Justin is nice.He’s got a job and is part of the community.
He’s exactly the kind of man I should be building a future with.
