"Thank you," I say when she hands it back.
She pats my hand once, a small gesture that feels surprisingly grounding. "You’re welcome."
My mom watches the whole exchange with a satisfied expression I recognize immediately.
She set this up.
She absolutely set this up.
I should be annoyed, but instead, I feel… something else. Not happiness, exactly. But the first faint sign that maybe I hadn’t destroyed my life.
Maybe I just redirected it.
I head back to my mom’s table after ordering a sandwich and coffee with the barista, and after a few more minutes, Penelope and the others stand to leave, waving goodbye. Penelope gives me one last smile before she heads out.
"Call me if you need anything," she says, and I nod like a person who knows how to accept help, even though I’m still learning.
When they’re gone, my mom looks at me over her mug. Smug as hell.
"Well?" she asks.
I stare down at my hands for a moment.
"Your evil plan succeeded," I say.
She smiles innocently. "I have no idea what you mean."
"You’re still a terrible liar."
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "I just wanted you to see that the world didn’t end because you chose something different."
I blink hard, because if I let myself feel too much, I’ll cry in the middle of a coffee shop, and I’m not ready to do that today.
My order gets delivered, and I take a bite of my sandwich and nod instead.
But even as calm finally settles in my stomach for the first time in days, there’s a quieter ache underneath it that doesn’t go away.
Because sitting at that table, talking to those women, laughing lightly like I’m not still bruised, I can’t help thinking that this could have been my circle.
Brunches, game nights when the guys are out of town, standing in suites, knowing the wives and girlfriends, and feeling like I belonged in the orbit of something bigger than my career.
Luka mentioned it once, casually, as if it were nothing. Like it was just the rhythm of his life.
And now it’s a life I don’t get to touch.
Not because it wasn’t possible.
Because we broke up before it ever became real.
I stare out the window at the gray Seattle afternoon and let myself sit in that truth for a moment, even as my mom talks about something else.
Penelope’s offer sits in my pocket like a seed.
A sign.
A quiet reminder that I didn’t come back here just to grieve. I came back here to build something new.
Even if it hurts.
