“Well, don’t get used to it. This is a one-off.”
We sit down and eat together, the silence easy, the kind that only happens when you’re used to someone being around. I find myself telling him about the coffee shop.
“So. How was your day?” he asks, and he’s sincere but his tone is also half-roleplaying like we’re some domestic thing. I decide to just play along. “Tell me the details, Cass.”
I roll my eyes.
“Sorry. Miss Cassie. Not Cass.”
“Well, there’s this woman, June,” I say, twirling my fork. “She owns this coffee shop in town. The place is incredible. Plants everywhere, real espresso, mismatched furniture she sourced from secondhand stores. The place really has a unique ambiance. But she’s struggling. She says a chain coffee place moved in down the road, and now she’s barely keeping the lights on.”
He chews thoughtfully. “Why don’t you help her?”
I blink. “Help her?”
“Yeah. You’ve got a business background, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but not that kind of business. I worked in corporate. Marketing campaigns. Strategy decks. Not mom-and-pop coffee shop rescue missions.”
Logan shrugs. “Still. You’re super smart. Why not just go for it?”
The compliment lands soft and unexpected. “You think I’m super smart?”
He looks at me, and something flickers behind his eyes—something earnest, unguarded. “Look…I’m not the smartest crayon in the box, Cassie. I admit that. I hit baseballs for a living. I memorize signs and eat sunflower seeds and try tonotget beaned by fastballs.”
I laugh, but he keeps going.
“But the moment I met you—even with ketchup on your face—I could tell. You’ve got this spark. Like you see things other people miss. It’s in the eyes. And I’m never wrong about these things. So, I don’tthink. I know.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. I try to look away, but he says the compliment so simply, so matter-of-fact, and so sincere, that it almost hurts.
“Anyway,” he says, reaching for his water, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
My heart thuds unexpectedly. “Oh? Where to?”
“Georgia. We’ve got a ten-day road trip. It’s a whole swing through the South. Jacksonville, Savannah, a couple of stops in between.”
“Oh. Cool.”
And yet it feels heavier than I expected.
He grins at me. “So don’t miss me too much.”
“Please. I’ll be too busy saving local coffee shops with my corporate strategy decks,” I say. But suddenly it feels insincere in my body.
“Exactly,” he says, still smiling. But I see some little piece of him looking back at me like maybe he’ll miss this too. Or maybe I’m just hallucinating.
“What are you up to tonight?”
“I was just going to do the dishes.”
“Nah. That’s on me.”
“No, Logan?—”
“I wasn’t asking. I need to unwind anyway. I like doing the dishes.”
“You…likedoing the dishes?”
