"Oh, yes," she says. "You don't get to harass single mothers and teenagers and walk away with a shrug."
"This isn't a courtroom," he mutters.
"Lucky for you," Mia says. "Because if it were, you'd be doing community service till retirement."
Someone else nods. "And therapy. Lots of therapy."
Another voice. "Maybe a vow of silence."
"Or celibacy."
"Voluntary exile."
Gabe steps in before the suggestions get any wilder.
"You're going to leave Lena alone," he says. "You're going to delete her number, delete her photos, delete every message thread. You're going to stop talking about her. You're going to stop implying that you have anything to hold over her."
Tom nods so fast his hair flops.
"You're also going to apologize," Gabe adds.
Tom turns to me like a man begging for water in a desert. "Lena, I'm sorry. Really. I didn't mean to scare you. I was upset and?—"
"That's enough," I say. "I heard what I needed."
He looks around the table, at all the faces of the women he used and discarded, and for the first time since I've known him, he looks small. Not smug. Not charming. Just small.
"I won't bother you again," he whispers.
"Good," Gabe says. "Get up."
Tom jumps to his feet and hurries out of the restaurant like someone lit a fire under him.
The moment the door closes, the entire table erupts—laughter, cheers, a few muttered curses, a toast someone starts but can't finish because she's laughing too hard.
I sit back in my chair and take a breath that doesn't feel tight for the first time in weeks.
Mia grins at me. "So. That felt good."
"It did," I admit.
Gabe meets my eye from across the room.
Something warm sparks in my chest.
Mia leans back in her chair, satisfied like she just finished a group project where everyone miraculously did their part. "We should do this more often," she says. "Like a monthly support group for women recovering from idiots."
"She can host," a girl adds, nodding at me. "She has the face of someone who bakes muffins and also ruins men."
The table breaks again. I hide my smile behind my water glass. It's been a long time since I sat with a group of women and felt… included.
Our server arrives with menus. She glances at the crowd, at the empty chair where Tom sat, at Gabe still standing with his hand on the chair back like he's guarding the space. She raises one brow.
"Interesting night?"
Mia points at the door. "We performed a public service."
The server nods like this is not the strangest thing she's heard today. "Excellent. Drinks?"
