I can’t see you anymore. Seeing Graham again reminded me of that. I’m sorry. I just need a little space. Please don’t hate me…
I didn’t hate her. Of course I didn’t. But I’d be lying if I said the message hadn’t been gnawing at me ever since I received it.
I hadn’t been back to the Coffee Cabin since I got it. Hadn’t brought Tilly for hot cocoa or stopped in for a quick hello. I wasn’t sure if I was giving her space or just avoiding her because I didn’t know what to say. I’d never kissed someone with as much intensity as Eliza. I’d never felt the way I was feeling right now, except for her. I didn’t want it to end.
I reread it three times before shoving my phone in my pocket and walking into my grandparents’ house like I wasn’t unraveling inside.
I wanted to fix it. Protect her. Do something. But I’d seen the way she looked at Graham—tight-lipped and pale, like she was bracing for a hit she couldn’t dodge. Something told me he’d hurt her in ways she hadn’t said out loud yet.
And that made me want to deck him.
I knew she wanted space. But every part of me—the overthinking part, the loyal-to-a-fault part, the heart-in-his-throat part—wanted to barge through her walls anyway. Just to remind her, she wasn’t alone in this.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Grandma said as I walked into the kitchen, her apron on and hair pinned up like she was still running the diner instead of feeding three and a half humans and a dog.
Tilly ran past me in a blur of sparkles and leggings, Lois hot on her heels. Grandpa leaned back in the recliner with the newspaper, half-watching the chaos with a smile that said he wouldn’t change a thing.
We sat down around the table fifteen minutes later—Tilly between Grandma and me, Lois parked strategically under the table for the best chances of catching dropped food.
I poked at my meal while everyone else dug in.
“You look like someone told you your birthday was canceled,” Grandma said, handing me the garlic bread.
“I’m just tired,” I lied.
“Mmm,” she replied, not buying it for a second.
“Lois is tired too,” Tilly offered, rubbing the dog’s floppy ears. “She chased a squirrel, and it yelled at her.”
Grandpa snorted. “That squirrel had an attitude.”
I smiled, but it didn’t stick.
After dinner, Grandma was clearing the plates when she glanced up and asked, too casually, “Have you picked what dish you’re entering for the Taste-Off?”
“Not yet.”
“Did you ask Eliza to enter with you?”
I nearly dropped the plate I was drying. “Uh, no. I haven’t.”
“You should,” she said, busying herself at the sink. “I think the two of you would work well together.”
“What do you know? Do you know something I don’t?” I hesitated before asking.
The idea of working with Eliza made a flutter start up in my chest, part excitement, part dread. I pictured us side by side in the kitchen, flour on our hands, tasting sauces and laughing—except I wasn’t sure we were at the laughing stage anymore. Still, maybe Grandma had a point. Maybe sharing something familiar could help bridge the quiet distance that had grown between us.
Or not.
“Hmm,” she hedged. “Not much. But definitely more than you think I do.”
I huffed a laugh. “Well, she told me she’s not ready to date.” I took a deep breath, weighing the possibility in my mind. It felt risky, like stepping onto a bridge I wasn’t sure would hold—but there was something hopeful in the thought, too. Maybe if we worked together, we could find our way back to that easy camaraderie we used to share. I glanced at Grandma, searching her face for any sign that this was more than just matchmaking, but all I saw was quiet encouragement.
“Who said anything about dating?” Grandma asked innocently. “You need help, she knows food. Maybe she needs a little reminder that she’s still allowed to enjoy herself. Something is different about her. I noticed it when I was picking up some decaf from your grandpa this morning.”
“She’s not—she’s not just—she’s complicated. The situation is complicated, too. I can’t talk about it too much; it’s her business. Not mine to share.”
“Well, maybe working with you on something that matters to both of you could be good for her.”
