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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.