I stare at my latte.
Tristan backs toward the counter. "I'll leave you ladies to it." He glances over his shoulder. "But for the record? I approve."
The second he's out of earshot, Liv rotates her entire body toward me like the restraint just snapped.
"Okay." She sets her coffee down. "While we wait for Sam to catch up to reality, can we start the Tom Debrief?"
Priya pulls out her phone and opens the notes app with exaggerated ceremony. She shows me the blank screen. "Official Tom Debrief is now in session."
Nadia raises her hand like she's in a board meeting. "Motion to make this a standing agenda item."
I drop my forehead to the table. The wood is cool against my skin. "You did NOT just call it the 'Tom Debrief.'"
"We absolutely did," Liv says. Bright. Unapologetic. "And it's happening. So. Verdict?"
I lift my head. My hair sticks to my lip gloss. I brush it away. "On what?"
"On Tom," Priya says, like I'm being dense on purpose.
"We met him Friday," Nadia adds. "Now we debrief."
Liv taps the table once with her index finger. "Verdict."
I stare at my latte. "On what?"
Nadia leans forward. Calm. Factual. Delivering a quarterly report. "On whether he's staying."
Liv nods. "When I asked if he was staying in New York, he didn't hesitate. That's not a guy keeping his options open."
Priya looks up from her phone. "And he looked at you before he answered."
I blink. "He what?"
"He looked at you," Liv repeats. "Before he said yes. Like he was checking something."
Nadia tilts her head. "Like he was making sure you heard him."
My throat goes tight. I swallow.
"He's working against type," Priya says. She's looking at me now, not her phone. "I could see it. He's the kind of guy who usually has an exit plan."
She pauses.
"But I don't think he has one with you."
I wrap my hands tighter around the cup.
"And he was watching you the whole night," Nadia says. "Not in a creepy way. In a 'making sure you're okay' way. Every time we teased you, he checked your face to see if you were actually laughing or just being polite."
I open my mouth. Close it.
They're wrong. They have to be.
Tom is a travel photographer. Leaving is built into the job description. He spends half his life in airports and hotels. He told me about commissions that take him across three continents in a month. He's restless. He fixes things and moves on. That's what he does. That's who he is.
Staying isn't in his repertoire.
And even if it was—even if he wanted to—wanting doesn't mean choosing.
