Jake:Glad to hear it. Get some rest.
Madison:I will. The bed's fine but the company's lacking.
Jake:Anyone in particular you're missing?
Madison:Wouldn't you like to know.
Jake:I'm asking, aren't I?
A long pause. I watch the three dots appear and disappear twice.
Madison:Maybe a certain real estate guy who makes decent coffee and asks too many questions.
Jake:Decent? I make excellent coffee.
Madison:There you go, fishing again.
Jake:Just correcting the record.
Madison:Noted. Your coffee is excellent. Your interrogation skills need work.
Jake:I'll add it to my training schedule.
Madison:You do that. Goodnight, Jake.
Jake:Goodnight, Madison.
I set my phone on the nightstand and stare at the ceiling. The bed feels too big. The house feels too quiet. Everything feels wrong in a way I can't quite name.
I think about her driving through the afternoon, setting up her truck, charming customers with her smile. I think about all the miles between us and all the miles still to come.
And I think about how much I don't want to be just a story she tells someday. The guy who took her in during a storm. A fun memory from a random town she visited once.
I want to be more than that.
The realization settles into my bones, heavy and undeniable.
Chapter 9
Jake
Five days.
Five days since I watched her taillights disappear around the corner. Five days of property listings and client meetings and boundary disputes that I couldn't care less about. Five days of pretending everything is normal when nothing feels normal at all.
Five days of texting.
I'm sitting in Emma's coffee shop, my laptop open in front of me, pretending to work on a comparative market analysis. In reality, I've been staring at my phone for the last ten minutes, waiting for Madison to respond.
Jake:How's the last day treating you?
Madison:Exhausting. Good exhausting though. Sold out of everything by 2pm yesterday so I doubled my prep this morning.
Jake:Sounds like you need to hire some help.
Madison:Are you volunteering?
Jake:I make a decent sous chef.
