Just… noticing.
The rest of lunch continues normally with stories and laughter.
Paige launches into a dramatic recap of her Hinge date, complete with exaggerated hand motions. “He showed up wearing boat shoes,” she says. “In February. And then told me he’s ‘between passions.’”
Nancy groans. “That’s code for unemployed with opinions.”
“I swear,” Paige says, stabbing her salad, “if one more man describes himself as an entrepreneur but can’t explain what he does, I’m joining a convent.”
Nancy steals another fry from my plate. “You wouldn’t last a week.”
Paige points at her. “Neither would you. You’d flirt with the groundskeeper.”
We laugh, loud enough to earn a look from the table beside us, and for a few minutes everything feels easy again.
The kind of easy that almost convinces me nothing’s wrong.
Almost.
Because somewhere between the laughter fading and the plates being cleared, something slips out of alignment.
Not with them.
With me.
With the part of me that keeps expecting my phone to buzz, even though it hasn’t all lunch.
Because I realize I don’t actually know when the last time Colby asked to see me was.
***
I check my phone while walking back to my office.
Nothing.
That’s when it hits.
Not panic.
Unease.
The kind that settles low and refuses to move.
I tell myself I’m being ridiculous.
He’s a captain.
He’s busy.
They’ve had away games, long travel days, weird schedules.
Hotel conversations are always different. Shorter. Easier to let fade.
I’ve done this before. Dated men whose lives ran on clocks that didn’t match mine.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Except it didn’t feel like this before.
