"Deal."
She rises on her toes, stretching up to bridge the height difference between us. Kisses me. Quick and sweet and far too brief.
Then steps back, all business again. The softness vanishes like she's flipped a switch.
"Janelle should be here in twenty minutes. Go. Hide. Try not to break anything while you're brooding back there."
"No promises."
I retreat to the storeroom, moving as quietly as my size allows. The door closes with barely a whisper, and I position myself in the shadows, cracking it just enough to see a sliver of the café beyond. Just enough to hear.
The café is empty except for Pebble. He's claimed the sunniest spot, a patch of afternoon light that turns his gray fur almost silver. Sleeping with his paws tucked under his chin, whiskers twitching occasionally in whatever small dream holds him.
Peaceful. Oblivious to tension and schemes and the dangers that lurk behind polite smiles.
I envy him that simplicity.
Minutes crawl past like hours. My shoulders tense despite my attempts to stay loose, ready. I force myself to breathe slow and measured. Stay calm. Stay focused.
The door chimes, bright and cheerful.
A woman enters. Tall, angular, moving with the kind of precision that speaks of someone who controls every gesture. Sharp suit in charcoal gray, not a wrinkle in sight. Hair pulled back so severe it must hurt, every strand disciplined into submission. She smiles when she sees Maris, but it doesn't reach her eyes—doesn't even try to.
"Maris. Thank you for meeting with me."
"Of course. Coffee?" Maris's voice is warm, welcoming, with just the right hint of uncertainty threading through it.
"Please. Black."
Maris moveswith practiced ease. Her hands are steady as she pours, no tremor in her fingers. Voice stays warm and open, vulnerable in a way I know is calculated.
She's good at this. Better than I'd ever be. I couldn't fake softness when I'm angry. Can't smooth my edges on command.
I watch through the crack, every muscle in my body coiled tight. Ready to move. Ready to protect.
Janelle sits at one of the small tables, crossing her legs with deliberate care. Accepts the coffee mug with both hands. Sips delicately, testing the temperature.
"I heard about the photo. Terrible business."
"Yeah. Really shook me." Maris settles into the chair across from her, shoulders slightly hunched. Playing the part of someone rattled and uncertain.
"I'm sure. People can be so cruel online."
"It's been hard. Worrying about how it affects the café. My reputation." She wraps both hands around her own mug, like she needs the warmth for comfort.
Janelle makes a sympathetic noise, a soft tsk of disapproval. "These things blow over. Usually."
"You think so?"
"Oh yes. Unless. Well. Unless there's more to the story." The words float there, seemingly innocent.
Maris tilts her head, brow furrowing slightly. "More?"
"Sometimes when there's smoke, there's fire. You know?" Janelle's smile widens just a fraction, sharp at the edges.
The words are light. Casual. But the implication lands like a stone.
I tense, hands curling into fists at my sides.
