“They’d be proud,” he adds. “Of the bread. Of you.”
Gwen clears her throat loudly. “Ok. Emotional ambush complete.”
Mr. Henderson laughs, delighted. “You girls always run off before the best part.”
As we stand to leave, he presses a five-dollar bill into Gwen’s hand like it’s a sacred ritual.
“For the jar,” he says.
She sighs. “You’re on a fixed income.”
“And you’re on your feet all day,” he replies. “Everyone gives where they can.”
Back in the van, Gwen doesn’t start it right away.
“Ok,” she says slowly. “I am not saying anything. I am thinking things.”
I grip the steering wheel. “He didn’t do it for credit.”
“No,” she agrees. “He did it because he knew you’d care.”
I pull away from the curb, glancing back once. Mr. Henderson is already at his table, slicing bread, humming along to the radio like nothing in the world is wrong.
I don’t forgive Leo.
But the picture I had of him, sharp-edged, selfish, careless, has a crack in it.
And cracks are dangerous things.
Because sometimes, if you’re not careful, they let light in.
Chapter 24
Leo
I don’t sleep the night before Saturday.
I lie to myself about it. I dim the lights. I silence notifications. I even drink chamomile tea, which tastes like damp hay and false hope. I stretch out on my bed like someone who expects rest to show up when politely invited.
It doesn’t.
My brain refuses. My body vibrates with a low, anxious hum that feels a lot like waiting for a verdict.
Because tomorrow, she might not show up. And I deserve that uncertainty the way a bruise deserves pressure.
I end up back on the sofa eventually, the same ten-thousand-dollar slab of Italian regret that looks incredible and feels like it was designed by someone who hates the human spine. The city outside my windows glitters like a dare. A thousand feet below, people are living. Eating dinner. Laughing. Arguing about nothing and buying bread without knowing the supply chain logistics behind it.
I flip my phone face down on the table.
Still nothing.
No yes.
No no.
No, don’t ever speak to me again.
Just silence.
