Olivia’s gaze softens as she looks at me. “How is everything?”
I think about it.
“Better,” I say. “Still messy. But better.”
Ivy nods like that’s a perfectly complete answer. “Messy but better is my favorite genre.”
Savannah appears then, balancing drinks like a caffeinated fairy godmother. My iced vanilla latte lands in front of me, cold and perfect, and I swear I feel my soul return to my body. She already knows me too well. That’s one of the amazing things about small towns.
She smiles brightly, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. Like she knows she’s about to drop something into the middle of the table that might change the weather.
“Delaney?” she says. “There was a guy in here yesterday asking about you…”
My hand freezes around my cup.
A man.
My stomach does a slow, unpleasant roll.
“About me?” I ask carefully.
Savannah nods. “Yeah. Said he was hoping to get in touch about a job. Left a number. I didn’t give him anything,” Savannah adds quickly. “No info about you. He just left his number and asked me to pass it along.”
The table goes quiet.
“A job?” Ivy echoes.
Why is this happening now? After the posts. After my name started circulating again.
Savannah pulls a small scrap of paper from her apron pocket and sets it beside my coffee like it’s no big deal.
“He said he’d be in town a few days. Wanted you to call if you were interested.”
Interested.
The word feels heavier than it should.
“Thanks,” I manage.
Savannah hesitates, clearly reading my face. “He seemed professional,” she adds quickly. “Well dressed. Confident. Intense, but not in a creepy way.”
Intense is not a comforting descriptor for me.
But I nod anyway. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
She retreats, leaving the paper between us.
Ivy leans forward immediately. “Alright. We’re not glossing over that.”
“I’m not even sure what that is yet,” I say.
Sloane tilts her head. “You’re doing thething.”
“What thing?”
“The one where you pretend you’re fine while internally building a panic PowerPoint.”
Rude. Accurate.
