Enough time to say what I haven’t said.
Assuming, that is, she actually shows up.
I drag a hand over my jaw, exhaling a slow, measured breath as I glance at the clock on the wall behind the bar.
Ten minutes.
She’s ten minutes late.
Or she’s not coming—a possibility I hadn’t given much thought to until now. I’ve been nervous about seeing her after all this time, not concerned she wouldn’t show up.
For a second, I consider what that would mean. What it would feel like to walk through this entire night, shaking hands and smiling for investors and critics and guests, knowing the person I want here the most couldn’t bring herself to attend.
My grip tightens around my phone.
“That’s not happening,” I say under my breath, like I can demand it to be true.
Julian watches me for a second, then claps a hand against my shoulder. “Relax. Worst case, you open a wildly successful restaurant without her being here tonight. You’ll survive.”
I shoot him a look.
He shrugs. “Best case… she walks through that door, and you stop looking like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
My gaze drifts back to the entrance.
The glass windows reflect the interior of the restaurant back at me. All I can focus on is how empty the space is.
I check my phone again.
Still nothing.
“Jesus,” I mutter, shoving it into my pocket.
Fine, she isn’t coming. I should be focused on tonight’s opening anyway. On the fact that everything I’ve worked for is finally here, tangible and within reach.
Instead, every thought loops back to one thing.
Is she coming?
The handle on the door shifts; my head snaps up so fast my neck cracks with the motion. Adrenaline spikes in my system as I will time to speed up, to show me who is behind the door.
She’s here.
Taylor stands just inside the doorway, one hand still resting lightly against the door as it swings closed behind her. The city lights catch on the smooth fabric of her dress—black, simple, elegant in a way that startles me.
Her hair is pulled up, soft and neat, exposing the line of her neck. A few loose strands frame her face, but it’s controlled. All her reckless curls smoothed straight into a smooth chignon.
No one looking at her would guess the kind of chaos she carries just under the surface.
The kind I know by heart.
My chest tightens.
“She came,” Julian murmurs beside me, like I hadn’t already noticed. He gives me a reassuring smile before slipping through the swinging doors to the back of the house.
I don’t answer or watch him go, because I’m already moving.
The distance between us closes faster than I expect, my steps steady, though my chest is hammering out its own erratic beat.
