“I’ve spent my life being patient in one way or another,” Debra murmured. “I’m sure I can handle the risotto.”
Billie leaned in a little, catching Debra off guard. “I know you likely won’t believe me when I say this, but Iamglad we met, Debra. Regardless of what you think of me, no matter how we met, I…wouldn’t change any of it.”
Billie’s eyes warmed, slowly and intentionally as they lingered in a way that unsettled every steady breath Debra took.The moment held, Debra ached to reach out and take Billie’s hand, and then the waiter arrived with the bill, breaking the tension with impeccable timing.
Billie reached out first, already sliding her card forward. “This is on me.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“It is,” Billie said, her tone making it clear she wouldn’t be argued with. “It’s the least I can do.”
They sat at their table a while longer, drifting into conversation about unfinished books, and even places in the city that held memories they’d rather avoid. But beneath every harmless comment lay a pull Debra tried and failed not to feel.
When Billie finally rose, she moved around the table and helped Debra into her coat. Billie’s fingers brushed her neck as she fixed the collar, most likely innocently, but Debra’s entire body reacted as if it had been a deliberate act.
“Thank you for lunch, and…for everything else, you know?”
Billie reached out a hand and stroked her knuckles against Debra’s skin. “You’re welcome, Ms Allen.”
The formality made Debra smile, but she still felt the need to correct Billie. “Debra is fine.”
Billie paused. Then, in a tone that had every nerve ending igniting inside Debra, she leaned in and said, “Debra, may I walk you back?”
God, her name hadneversounded like that before. “Y-yes.”
The city movedaround them in its usual rhythm, the constant drift of tourists and manic traffic…while a cyclist weaved through gaps with a muttered apology, but Billie barely absorbed any of it. She walked side by side with Debra, theirsteps aligning effortlessly. Billie kept her hands tucked into her coat pockets, her chin angled down, and her collar turned up against the cold.
Every so often, she felt Debra glance at her, and there was no mistaking the faint upturn of her lips. It was a surprised, almost disbelieving look…as though she couldn’t quite reconcile the idea of Billie Brown walking her home. Truthfully, Billie couldn’t either.
She’d intended to leave after lunch. She’d rehearsed the lines in her head on the walk from her car to the restaurant. She was supposed to thank Debra for inviting her, she was supposed to say how lovely it had been, and then she was supposed to step back and smile, while making a clean exit.
But when Debra had risen from the table and gathered her things, something inside Billie refused to loosen its grip. She couldn’t name it, and right now she didn’t want to, but it kept her moving beside Debra and matching her pace along the embankment.
“Are you heading back to the shop?”
Billie pulled herself out of a very unexpected daydream. “Usually, I would. I chose to take the afternoon off before I left earlier, though.”
“Do you always work this late?”
Billie side-glanced at Debra. “Most days.”
“Forgive me, but that sounds lonely.”
Billie lifted a shoulder. “It keeps me busy.”
Debra paused by the railings, leaning against them as she looked out over the water. A busker played something acoustic from across the pavement, and as Billie turned to watch Debra, she found the sweetest smile on her lips.
“You know,” Debra said. “You surprise me.”
Billie leaned beside her, confused. “Do I?”
“I thought you’d beterriblecompany outside of work.”
Huh. That was quite the observation to make. “Terrible?”
“You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys idle conversation.”
Billie laughed. “I don’t, but this doesn’t feel idle.”
