The words hang there.
Zane nods once. “Yeah.”
We bake it anyway.
The result is dense. Edible. Sad. We eat it with butter because butter fixes most things.
Julian chews thoughtfully. “This is… aggressively fine.”
Zane nods. “I’ve had worse.”
I stare at the loaf.
“She was right,” I say. “About everything.”
Neither of them argues.
Eventually, they leave. Julian makes me promise, again, not to go feral. Zane makes me swear on the camera case.
When the door closes, the apartment is quiet again.
But it’s different now.
Messy counter. Flour on the floor. A failed loaf is cooling on the rack. Evidence of effort.
I lie down fully clothed on my bed and stare at the ceiling.
Still no message.
I don’t draft another apology. I don’t send a reminder. I don’t reach.
I wait.
Because this awful, quiet, uncertain waiting is the work.
And tomorrow, whether she comes or not, I will not grab.
I will listen.
Or I will leave.
And for the first time in my life, I will mean it.
Chapter 25
Tess
Saturday comes whether I am ready or not.
The park is loud. Colorful. Alive. Vendors shout prices. Kids dart between stalls. Music thumps from somewhere down the line. The air smells like coffee, citrus, and grilled onions. I move through it with practiced ease, Gwen following close behind.
I told her I needed to do this alone, but she insisted on staying nearby for moral support.
“Do you want me to hide behind a newspaper?” Gwen asks, making me laugh. “I can pretend to be a Grizzlies hockey fan and admire the stadium from a distance.”
“Whatever you think is best, G.”
And then I see him.
