I smiled, standing to help. “Surprise me.”
She rolled her eyes but grabbed two mugs, anyway.
The conversation moved on—surface-level, easy—but that moment sat between us, unspoken. Heavy, but not unwelcome.
I wasn’t here to fix her.
But damn if I didn’t want to stay long enough for her to believe forever might not be a fairytale after all.
She passed me the mug of tea with a faint smirk—chamomile, not that I cared. I wasn’t here for the tea.
She sat back down, tucking one leg under herself, casual and composed. Like she hadn’t just gutted me with that quiet honesty about what love meant to her. Like she hadn’t opened a window and let me glimpse something I wasn’t sure she shared with anyone.
I let the silence breathe between us before I spoke again.
“We’ve got that charity thing coming up,” I said, rolling the mug between my palms. “The team. Visiting a couple schools around the city—doing drills, some meet-and-greets.”
She looked up, head tilting just slightly. “February?” One brow arched. “That’s gonna be freezing.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well. Welcome to Stevensville. The kids won’t care. Cam says it’s good press. Keeps us connected to the community. Gets the younger ones hyped.”
She nodded, thoughtful. Her eyes stayed on her mug, like she knew where this was headed but wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
“He also said,” I added, watching her reaction, “it’d be good if you came, too.”
That got her. She blinked, surprise flickering across her face before she masked it again.
“If you’re sure,” she said carefully.
My gaze didn’t waver. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t.”
She nodded slowly, still not quite meeting my eyes. I could tell she was weighing it—what it would look like, what it might mean. Being there. With me. In public. At something that mattered.
“It’s not press for you,” I said. “Not like that. You wouldn’t be doing interviews or anything. Just showing up. Hanging out with the kids. I think they’d like you.”
Her lips quirked. “Because I’m terrifying and sarcastic?”
“Because you’re smart and grounded and don’t take shit from anyone,” I said simply. “They’d listen to you. Especially the girls.”
That made her go quiet again. A different kind of quiet.
She looked up finally. Met my eyes.
“I’ll go,” she said.
And there was something in her voice—soft, sure, but hesitant too. Like she wanted to trust that this wasn’t a trap. Like she wasn’t used to being asked to show up, only to find she was just a placeholder.
I nodded, fighting the urge to reach across the table and touch her. Just to ground the moment. Just to say I see you.
Instead, I sipped my tea.
“I’ll pick you up,” I said.
Her expression shifted then—amusement laced with something deeper. Something warm. “You always this bossy?”
“Only when it counts.”
She smirked. “Good to know.”
