“You’re happy,” I murmur against my coffee mug, sipping the hot liquid carefully but never taking my eyes off her.
She pauses, then nods. “Yeah. I am.”
“Good.”
And I genuinely mean it.
There’s just a small part of me that wishes I were there to see it and be a part of it. That we weren’t hours away working toward separate dreams when our time in the tent made it so clear how well we work together.
She studies me for a second.
“You are too,” she says, a flicker of something crossing her gaze before she casts her eyes away.
It’s not a question.
I hesitate before answering, “Yeah.”
It’s true, I am happy. It just doesn’t feel complete. I’m getting everything I thought I wanted, and it’s pulling me away from the one thing I didn’t expect to matter this much.
We fall into a quieter moment after that.
“I wish we had more time,” she says eventually, picking at the crust of her sandwich, leaving a flurry of tiny crumbs across her plate.
“I know.”
“I get it,” she adds quickly. “I do. It’s just—”
“I know,” I repeat, softer this time.
She nods, looking down at her cup.
We sit there for a minute without speaking. Then she looks up, forcing a smile. “Show me your restaurant?”
Something in my chest loosens.
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
It’s not finished, but I pull out my phone and start flipping through the progress photos I’ve taken of the renovations. I ramble on and on about the layout, the vision, where everything will go, and she listens like it’s the only thing that matters.
She doesn’t roll her eyes or drift off into her own thoughts like everyone aside from Julian does. She keeps her big, hazel eyes locked on me, smiling and nodding in encouragement.
“That’s going to be incredible,” she says when I’m done.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I nod, looking down at the layout on my phone again. For a second, I picture her there. Flour on her hands, moving through my kitchen like she owns the place.
I don’t say it out loud because I don’t know how that would work, but I tuck the thought away in the back of my mind to ponder later.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down—time’s up.
“Shit,” I mutter, feeling my stomach flip.
Taylor’s eyes go wide. “We have to go?”
“Yeah, I have to get you back to the airport so I can make it to the restaurant on time for service training.” I sigh, pressing my palms to my eyes so hard I see stars.
