The words don't belong to her, I'm almost sure of it. I lean back in my chair. "So you want to see this guy."
She shrugs her shoulders and looks down once more. "It's one dinner."
"That's not what I asked, either."
Her jaw moves once, like she's grinding her teeth. "Gabe, don't read into this."
"You're giving me nothing but reasons to."
She looks away and takes a sip of coffee. "You said you wouldn't try to change my mind."
"I'm not." I keep my voice calm. "I'm trying to understand what you're thinking."
She pushes her plate away and wipes her fingers on a napkin. "I'm thinking it's just dinner, and if I'm out with this guy, the town will move on and find something else to gossip about."
"But why?" I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "Gossip never bothered you, Lena. You were always better than that."
"Turns out I'm not anymore," she snaps. "I'm settled here, with a good job, and my son has a good life here. I don't appreciate people talking about me like you're my sugar daddy and…" Her lower lip trembles. "Gabe, I'm sorry. Like I said, this isn't anything serious. But you need to let me do it."
She stands abruptly and lifts her plate. "I need to get ready," she says. "I have errands before I meet him."
The words drop like a brick in my stomach.
I stand too. "Lena?—"
She cuts me off gently. "Don't. You said you wouldn't push."
I force myself to nod. Lena turns away again, pretending to fix something on the counter that doesn't need fixing.
When she faces me next, her shoulders have squared. It's her armor. I recognize it.
"We're fine," she says. "This is fine. I'll see you later."
I look at her for one long moment. She won't meet my eyes. She knows exactly what she's doing, and she hates that she's doingit, but she's doing it anyway. "Okay," I say quietly. I move to her, kiss her on the forehead, and step outside and head to the rental.
Over the next few hours and until the evening, I'm able to get zero amount of work done. The thought of her sitting across from some man who thinks she's available twists in my gut, and by the time the clock hits six thirty, I'm already grabbing my keys.
The Tahoe rental waits in the driveway. Black, plain, and forgettable, it's the kind of vehicle no one pays attention to and perfect for a man who plans to stay in the background.
I get to her street right as the sitter walks up to her porch. Jace opens the door and shows off a stuffed dinosaur. Lena steps into view a moment later. Even from a distance, I catch the warmth in her smile when she talks to her son. Then she tells the sitter a few things, checks the lock, and steps outside.
My breath stalls.
She's stunning.
Every part of her outfit looks chosen with care. Soft dress, shaped at the waist. Hair loose. Lips glossed. A look made for a night she doesn't even want to go on. She adjusts her purse, glances back at the window to make sure her boy's okay, and I take it in without letting my face show a thing.
I don't know if I deserve to feel protective of her, but it happens anyway.
She walks to her car and unlocks it before sitting behind the wheel with her hands resting on top of it for an extra second, like she needs one last moment to steady herself. Then she drives off toward town.
I wait a few heartbeats before pulling out behind her.
No tailgating. No close tracking. Just enough distance to keep her safe if anything goes wrong.
She reaches the restaurant early enough that the parking lot is still half empty. She steps out, smooths her dress, lifts her chin, and heads toward the doors. She carries herself like she's determined to get through the night without letting anything show—not nerves, not frustration, not the mess this week has turned into.
I stay in the Tahoe two rows back, near the exit. She disappears inside. The lights from the restaurant glow on the asphalt, and I settle in to wait.
