I wiped my hands on a towel before picking it up, suddenly aware of how fast my pulse had picked up. There was a message from Ephram.
I stepped a little farther away from the others before opening it.
Thank you for asking, I really appreciate it, but I can’t.
That was it. No explanation was offered, no apology beyond the politeness already built into the words. Just a clean, careful refusal.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary, my thumb hovering uselessly over the keyboard. There was nothing to reply that wouldn’t feel like pressure, and the last thing I wanted was to make him feel cornered. He had answered honestly.
Still, the disappointment arrived anyway, swift and sharp.
It wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t knock the wind out of me. It was quieter than that. A small collapse inward, like a door closing softly instead of slamming.
I slipped the phone into my pocket and took a steadying breath.
“Everything okay?” Mom asked from across the kitchen.
“Yes,” I said quickly. “Just feeling a little overfull.”
She smiled, satisfied with that answer, and turned back to Jane.
I leaned against the counter for a moment, grounding myself in the familiar sounds of home. The low hum of the refrigerator. Kitty’s laugh from the dining room. Dad’s steady footsteps as he moved between rooms.
Ephram had said no.
That didn’t mean rejection. Not exactly. Maybe he was working, or had a prior engagement that night at a different event. Maybe he was working on his house, getting it livable again so he could adopt Felix.
I told myself not to read into it and not to assume there was more behind it than there was. He had reasons. Professional ones, probably. He was allowed those.
I was allowed to feel disappointed anyway.
Before I could finish sorting through that particular knot of emotion, the kitchen door opened with far more confidence than courtesy.
“Good evening,” Collin announced, as if the inn had been holding its breath waiting for him.
Every head in the room turned at once.
I froze.
Collin stood just inside the doorway, coat draped dramatically over one arm, a box of chocolates tucked under the other. He looked pleased with himself in a way that suggested he had not once considered whether his presence was wanted.
“Oh no,” Kitty said flatly.
Collin’s gaze slid past me without lingering and landed squarely on Kitty.
There it was. The pivot.
“My dear Miss Kitty,” he said, stepping fully into the room. “I was hoping to find you.”
Kitty stared at him like he had just announced he planned to live under the table. “Why?”
Collin smiled indulgently, clearly mistaking her tone for coyness. “I’ve had some time to reflect.”
Meri muttered something under her breath that sounded like this should be illegal and something about harassment.
“I realized,” Collin continued, “that my previous approach may have lacked… flourish.”
Kitty crossed her arms. “You mean consent.”
