“Didn’t think so.” She nodded once, all business.
From my spot in line, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. God, she was incredible. Sharp and funny anddone with the nonsense in a way that didn’t invite debate. The air shifted around her—laughter dying off, curiosity retreating—and I felt an unexpected swell of pride that had nothing to do with being involved and everything to do with watching her take her space back.
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t joke. Didn’t jump in to defend her, even though part of me wanted to. She didn’t need backup right now—she needed the circus to move on. I could tell she hated being a spectacle, hated having her life treated like entertainment. So I stayed where I was, quiet and steady, hoping she could feel the support without it turning into one more thing she had to manage.
Someone inhaled sharply.
Someone else snorted.
She handed over a cappuccino to the next person in line with a polite little nod that completely mismatched her words. “So, unless one of you is here to tip generously, or contribute something useful to society, maybe stop speculating about my love life like it’s your morning soap opera.Days of our Lives, my ass,” she muttered.
She turned, started making the next order, and lobbed a dish towel onto the counter behind her.
Someone let out an actual cackle.
Graham didn’t laugh. I did.
Because damn.
His jaw tensed, his arms folding across his chest like he was trying to make himself look broader.
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” he said flatly. “Busy morning.”
“Oh, you know me,” Eliza said, flashing him a grin so sharp it could slice bread. “Always juggling something. Muffins, espresso, men, apparently...”
A customer in a puffer vest murmured, “She’s better than Netflix,” to her friend as she took her drink and backed away, eyes still on the drama like she didn’t want to miss the season finale.
I was trying not to laugh—and failing. Eliza’s mouth was pure fire, and I wanted to kiss it. Instead, I kept quiet and waited, because I knew her well enough by now to know she wasn’t done.
Graham’s eyes flicked to me, then back to her. “Anyway,” he said, “if you ever want to come by the restaurant before the grand opening, I’d be happy to give you a preview. Walk you through the kitchen, let you see how much has changed since Portland.”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Hmm. Tempting. But I’m pretty busy here.”
That got a bark of laughter from Mr. Woods, behind me in line.
“Always with the jokes,” Graham muttered, trying to play it off. “Cute.”
“Bold choice opening across from the library,” Eliza added, taking the next customer’s order. “You’ll have to keep the noise down. All those food critics whispering in hushed tones.”
Graham chuckled, but it was stiff. “Eliza, always a pleasure.” He stood to go, acknowledging me with a nod that was less polite and more dismissive.
“Graham,” I said, nodding back. My voice was calm, yet my jaw was clenched. Watching him walk away stirred something primal, protective.
He paused briefly, perhaps expecting Eliza to say more, but she was already focused on her next task—her energy shifting, but not fading. I watched him go, feeling a flicker of relief and something sharper, protectively stirring in my chest.
“Next!” Eliza called, pivoting with perfect poise and absolutely zero chill beneath the surface. Her cheeks were flushed, and she wouldn't look at me.
I waved Mr. and Mrs. Woods and the rest of the line in front of me and waited until she handed off their drinks before stepping up to the window. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, too fast.
“Eliza.”
She sighed, finally meeting my gaze. “No, I’m not okay. That was a nightmare. Thank you for witnessing it in real time.” She wiped a spot on the counter with unnecessary force. “I hate how smug he is. Like he thinks he still has some hold on me. Like he knows something no one else does. And the line today? Really? What the hell was that?”
“Forget the line. They’re a bunch of gossips. Graham is nothing. Don’t worry about him.”
Her shoulders dropped an inch. “How can I not?”
