I didn’t answer. I turned and unlocked my car door.
“You’ve got a new type,” he added casually.
“No,” I said, opening the door and sliding in. “I’ve got a tolerance level. And you used up all of yours.”
He stepped back, hand over his heart, like I’d wounded him. “Fair enough. But you’ll see, Eliza. This town loves a success story.”
I slammed the door.
And I hated that, even as I drove away, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Nate’s face when he saw me with Graham.
Not angry. Not even jealous.
He was distant and it hurt.
Like maybe I’d closed a door I hadn’t even known was open for me.
By the time I pulled into my townhouse complex, my grip on the steering wheel had officially become a stress position.
Remy and Linguini were waiting at the door, their tails flicking with enough attitude to remind me that I was late for dinner—theirdinner.
“I know,” I muttered, kicking off my boots and heading straight for the kitchen. “You’ve both been tragically neglected. I’ll expect a formal complaint filed with HR.”
Remy gave a chirp. Linguini tried to leap onto the counter and promptly knocked over a spoon. Chaos. Comforting, familiar chaos.
I fed them and stood in the kitchen, staring at the microwave clock like it owed me an apology. Graham had some kind of nerve. Showing up at my car. Acting like we were friends. Acting like he hadn’t taken something I loved and twisted it until it no longer felt like mine.
And Nate…
Ugh.
Why hadn’t I said something? Told him Graham was my ex. That he was the reason I’d lost the part of myself that once dreamed in recipes and handwritten menus.
But no—I’d stood there like a statue, letting Nate walk away thinking—who knows what he thought. But I know it wasn’t good.
I flopped onto the couch, curling up with my blanket that smelled like cinnamon and espresso. Linguini promptly climbed on top of me like a purring hot water bottle. Remy took his usual spot on the armrest, watching me like a judgmental roommate.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Cara: I just saw Nate walking past the bookstore. He waved. Still handsome, right? Don’t you kind of want to fix him up with someone? Yes, that’s a hint…
I stared at the message, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I wanted to tell her. Desperately. But the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, I sent:
Me: Yeah, maybe.
She replied with a heart emoji. I threw the phone onto the couch and groaned into my blanket.
I felt like a teenager again—shut out, unsure, and suddenly suffocated by secrets. Only now the stakes were higher, because the person I was shutting out wasn’t some guy I had a crush on. It was Nate.
And IlikedNate. Liked him in a way that made my heart trip over itself and my brain scramble. Liked him in a way that felt scary and honest and so far out of my comfort zone, I might as well be on the moon.
But now there was Graham. Smiling. Lurking. Charming the town like he’d never been anything but golden.
And me?
Now I was lying to everyone who cared about me and pretending it was fine.
