“Oh?” she says, sitting up slightly straighter.
“My sister’s moving back from out West. She needs somewhere to land for a bit.”
“That’s really nice of you,” Gwen says softly. “Are you two close?”
“Closer now than we used to be,” I admit. “We’re close in age, so growing up was… a lot of fighting between us. But once we got past all that, it got easier.”
I hesitate, then ask, “Do you have any siblings?”
Something shifts in her expression.
“No,” she says quietly. “My mom passed away shortly after I was born, and my dad never remarried.”
The words land heavier than anything else she’s said tonight.
“I’m sorry,” I say, softer now.
Without thinking, I reach for her hand.
Her skin is warm, soft.
She looks down at where our hands meet. I can feel the hesitation, not rejection, but awareness.
She doesn’t pull away.
From the corner of my eye, I notice movement at the table beside us. When I glance over, the girl has her phone out, angled just enough.
My stomach drops.
I let go of Gwen’s hand immediately.
Not because I want to.
Because I have to.
I’m not pulling her into that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“This has been nice,” Gwen says, her voice softer now. Her gaze flicks to the table, then back to me. “I think I should head out. But… thanks for inviting me.”
Something in my chest tightens.
“We don’t have to leave,” I say quickly. “We could stay. Have another drink.”
She shakes her head, already pulling away.
“I think it’s better if I go,” she says, glancing once more toward the table beside us.
That’s when it clicks.
This isn’t about the drink.
It’s about me.
“Can I walk you home?” I ask. “Or at least get you a cab?”
“My place is only a few minutes away,” she says, offering a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll be ok.”
She steps back, creating space where there wasn’t any just a second ago.
