And then he’d texted her, anyway. Not to claim a do-over. Just to hang out. That felt bigger than a hotel room ever could.
“Anyway,” he said, dragging her back to the present, “I’m leaving. And you are too.”
Her ribs constricted.Oh, come on.This was theidealscenario—a man who came with a pre-scheduled exit. No clingy goodbyes, no expectations, no“So what happens now?”slideshows. They’d known each other for less than a week. She’d spent more time picking out a state banquet menu. So why did the thought of him vanishing into an airport terminal make her want to press her palm against her sternum, like she could physically hold the discomfort in?
He bent down, rummaging through his satchel, and pulled out her cap. She took it gratefully, yanking it over her hair and tugging the brim low. “Thanks.”
A waiter appeared at her elbow. Allegra didn’t even glance at the menu. “Un espresso, s’il vous plaît.” He vanished. She slid her sunglasses off and grimaced. Even this well-behaved light was a betrayal.
“Aiee,” Nate said. “Another big night?”
“Yep.” And suddenly, absurdly, she wondered—could hesmell it? Last night’s hissy-fit? The stranger she’d used to prove a point? Heat prickled her neck, and she ducked her chin, tugging at the strap of her dress.
“Not my place,” he said, palms lifting, “but maybe consider a rest day?”
She snorted despite herself. “Bold of you to assume my body listens to reason.”
That earned her a real smile. His fingers started tapping against the table. He hesitated. “I’ve been sitting here going back and forth, and there’s something I wanted to say.”
“Uh-huh?”
“It’s about—”
“NAAATE!”
The voice cut through the café like a dropped tray.
They both turned.
A woman stood near the entrance, tall and aggressively cheerful, blonde hair scraped into a high ponytail. Black leggings, white trainers, a cropped silver top that suggested confidence, discipline, and a deeply committed core routine. She radiated a kind of loud, sunny energy that made Allegra instinctively sit back in her chair, as though bracing for impact.
“Nate!” the woman called again, waving one arm. “Oh my God—I didn’t know you were still here.”
Allegra looked at Nate.
Nate looked at the woman.
He closed his eyes. Not long enough to be dramatic. Long enough to read as resignation. “Shit,” he muttered, pushing back from the table and standing. “Yeah. I, uh, decided to stay a few extra days.”
The woman crossed the café in three long strides and grabbed his face with both hands, planting a loud kiss on his cheek. Something sharp twisted in Allegra’s gut, not jealousy exactly, but awareness. Of proximity. Of familiarity. Of history.
The woman leaned back, her attention flicking to Allegra for the first time.
“Oh, this is Ella,” Nate said quickly. “She’s… a friend. Ella, this is Miranda.”
Allegra curled her toes in her sandals, bracing herself for overly friendly questions, an enthusiastic hug, or some version of Oh my God, tell me everything. Instead—
“Hi,” Miranda said, offering a curt nod.
“Hi,” Allegra replied, surprised enough to smile. “So, how do you two know each other?”
Nate paused. “We did some work together.”
“Mm-hmm,” Miranda said, clearly agreeing with a much longer version of that sentence.
She leaned closer to him, lowering her voice, though not nearly enough. “I heard you’re out.”
“Yeah. I’m done. Full career pivot.”
