“Hi,” she says, breathless in a way she probably doesn’t realize.
“Hi,” I answer, and it comes out lower, warmer, more honest than I intend.
She sits. I sit.
The space between us hums.
“Hope I didn’t make you rush,” I say.
“You did,” she replies, deadpan. “But that’s fine.”
I smile. “You came anyway.”
She picks up her menu even though she’s not reading it. “I haven’t decided if that was smart or incredibly stupid.”
“Smart,” I say instantly.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Confident this morning, aren’t we?”
“Always,” I answer. “Especially with you.”
Her fingers tighten slightly on the menu. Not much. Just enough for me to notice.
She doesn’t look at me. Not yet. Not directly.
She’s avoiding my eyes because she knows what’ll happen when she meets them.
She’ll fall right back into the gravity we started last night.
I take a sip of my coffee just to do something with my hands.
She folds the menu shut and finally looks up.
And the moment her eyes hit mine, the world narrows to just the two of us again.
It hits her too, I see it. The sudden catch in her breath. The heat that sparks in her cheeks. The way her lips part like she forgot the next sentence she meant to say.
She’s trying so hard to play steady.
So damn hard.
But she’s shaking a little.
“You look tired,” I say quietly.
“I didn’t sleep much.”
“Neither did I.”
She swallows. “Right. Because of… business?”
“No, Ruby.” I lean forward, careful, controlled. Honest.
“It was because of you.”
Her inhale is sharp, like she wasn’t ready for that level of truth this early in the day.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
