We prep. We open. The regulars come in.
Normal.
I’m just about to enjoy my break with coffee and a croissant when my phone buzzes again.
Tess notices immediately, her expression sharpening.
I glance down.
ZANE: Can we talk? Let me know when it’s a good time to call you.
My chest tightens.
What is there left to talk about?
I’ve been humiliated enough.
“Is it him?” Tess asks.
I nod and hand her my phone.
“Is he worried I’m going to badmouth him in the press or something?” I joke, but it comes out defensive.
Tess doesn’t laugh.
“Maybe it was a misunderstanding,” she says simply.
“I doubt it.”
I take my phone back and head toward the alley, needing space.
I’m ending this now.
Before it drags on.
Before it hurts any more.
I take a steadying breath.
Then I hit call.
“Hey,” Zane says softly. From the background noise, I can tell he’s outside, cars passing, distant voices, the low hum of the city.
“Hi,” I reply. “Look… there’s no need to do this. I understand what happened. I don’t blame you.”
A couple of seconds pass in silence.
“Just traffic,” he says quietly, as if he’s still there, still thinking.
Then, “I think we need to talk face to face.”
Before I can stop myself, the words come out sharper than intended.
“I think I’ve had enough of being out in public like that. I don’t deserve to feel this way.”
As soon as I say it, I realize how cold I sound. But I don’t know how else to feel right now.
“What’s your address?” Zane asks, catching me off guard.
