“Eliza.”
“What?”
“Come to lunch,” I repeated, softer now. “As friends. No pressure. I’ll even let you choose: fries, tots, or onion rings. It’s your call.”
“Okay. Lunch.”
“See you soon.”
She laughed then, a soft sound like relief finally seeping in. “Alright, alright. But you have to promise—no questions about my mood, okay?”
“Deal,” I said, feeling something in me ease.
Chapter 14
Eliza
By the time I opened the Coffee Cabin, the world had narrowed to manageable things: heat, coffee, routine. It was the only place my thoughts didn’t immediately run ahead of me.
I called my grandma the moment the anxiety started whispering its usual lies. She picked up on the first ring.
“Coffee Cabin’s yours for the lunch shift,” I said. “I’ve got plans.”
There was a suspicious pause. “Plans, huh?”
“Don’t make it a thing, Grandma.”
“I’m not,” she said, already amused. “Except to say I wore lipstick the last time I had ‘plans’ in the middle of the day.”
I groaned. “I’m hanging up now.”
“You’d better. And wear something that says you’re not just coffee and sarcasm. Go home and put on something cute. No, you’re young, change into something tight.”
“Oh my god, you’re impossible.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and stood at the counter, questioning my life choices. What the hell was I thinking?
I said goodbye to Grandma at the Coffee Cabin door, her smirk hinting she knew more than she let on. As I slid into my car and pulled onto the road, I could still feel the adrenaline buzzing in my veins. The silence in the car made it easy for my doubts to creep in—had I completely lost my mind? I replayed the morning in my head, the anxious pulse of possibility, wondering if nerves and hope had finally outpaced my common sense. By the time I parked in front of my place, I was half convinced I’d gone temporarily insane—all for a lunch that wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
I stared into my closet like it might offer a life raft. My heart ping-ponged betweenThis is just lunchandThis is a terrible idea.
I still wasn’t sure why I’d called him. I guess I just needed to hear his voice. Maybe I even missed him. And now here I was—trying to figure out if I could sit across from Nate Winters without falling face-first into my feelings. But most of all, I didn’t want to hurt him. Or let Graham hurt him. And then there was sweet, wonderful Tilly to consider, too.
I slipped into jeans, my nicest sweater, and boots that looked like I’d tried without trying too hard. Remy and Linguini sat on the bathroom counter, judging me as I twisted my hair up.
“This isn’t a date,” I told them. “Just a meeting between two people who kissed like they meant it and then pretended they didn’t.”
Linguini sneezed. Judgment confirmed.
Nate was already waiting in a booth when I got there—jeans, thermal Henley, faint smell of cinnamon and something warm and woodsy. Like autumn and sin and bad ideas.
“Hey,” he said, standing when he saw me.
His smile did things to my insides I wasn’t ready for.
“You look nice,” I said before my brain could stop me. “You know—for someone not trying to date me.”
