“Can I ask you something?” Lucille said suddenly, leaning in just enough to make it feel personal rather than invasive.
Debra set her fork down. “Of course.”
“Do you feel ready for this? Dating again, I mean.”
Debra considered it, then nodded. “Ready enough. I’ve realised that life doesn’t wait for us to feel perfect.”
Lucille smiled and lifted her glass. “To imperfect beginnings.”
They clinked glasses, and something settled deep in Debra’s chest. Shedidlike Lucille, and she’d enjoyed the evening. She could imagine another date, another conversation, perhaps even another attempt at something real.
But when Lucille laughed at a joke Debra made—that open, full-bodied laugh—Billie’s absence struck her suddenly.
Debra took another sip of wine and steadied herself, willing the ache away.
Tonight, she wasn’t going to look back. She couldn’t afford to. She was going to allow herself the chance to move forward, one beginning at a time, even if a part of her still knew exactly who had left the deepest mark.
Billie knewsomething was wrong the moment she stepped inside the restaurant. It wasn’t anything obvious—the placewas exactly as it should be, with its low lighting and muted conversation threading through the space. She’d chosen it for that very reason. Neutral ground and somewhere quiet.
Yet her body reacted before her mind could catch up. That vice-like grip low in her chest and that hitch in her breath that she couldn’t quite mask. Then came the unmistakable,deeplyfamiliar sense of recognition—one that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with instinct.
Billie stopped just inside the door.
She had learned to trust that feeling over the years. To listen when something in her shifted or when the atmosphere suddenly felt different. Tonight, it was so loud that she couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much she wanted to.
She slowly scanned the room.
It took her less than three seconds to find Debra.
She was seated near the window, the candlelight catching her hair as she angled her body towards a woman sitting opposite her. She was laughing. Not politely and not because it was expected of her, but fully, with her head tipped back in a way Billie had never seen from her before. It was as though Debra had relaxed and forgotten herself completely. It was…beautiful to witness.
Still, seeing her laugh so freely was what hurt. This wasn’t the woman Billie had met all those weeks ago. There were no signs of the careful composure Debra wore when she was being brave. This was total ease and comfort, and Billie knew it came from feeling safe enough to take up space.
God, I wish that was me.
And then Billie saw the other woman’s hand. Her fingers rested lightly over the back of Debra’s. Not in a grip and certainly not in a claiming way; they were just…there. Tracing slow, absent lines over her skin, as though the touch was something neither of them needed to think about.
Billie’s heart clenched at the sight.
This was it. This was what moving forward looked like. It wasn’t dramatic or cruel. It was just human, and devastating in its ordinariness.
Billie considered turning around and slipping back out into the evening, the door closing behind her before Debra could possibly know she’d ever been there. She was very good at leaving after all. She’d made a life out of it, really.Clean exits and no mess, but then Debra looked up, and their eyes met across the room.
The shift was instant. The surprise flared first, and then came the recognition. What Billiehadn’texpected was the emotion welling in her own throat as Debra’s lips parted and her body turned towards her without conscious thought. Like Billie, Debra had felt her presence before she’d seen her. And that just made this all the more painful.
Billie straightened and inconspicuously cleared her throat. If Debra was moving on, then Billie wouldn’t be the woman who ruined that moment by disappearing. She’d told herself she was doing the right thing by stepping back; she would see it through now.
She smoothed her hands down the front of her overcoat, squared her shoulders, and crossed the room with the same grace she brought into every space. None of these people looking at her would have guessed that she was falling apart inside, or that each step felt like it was taking her further away from something she hadn’t realised she’d already lost.
She stopped at the edge of the table.
“Debra.” God, she hoped her voice was steady enough to pass. “I didn’t realise you ate here.”
Up close, seeing Debra was worse.
She looked radiant and relaxed. There was colour in her cheeks, and there was an ease to her posture that Billiehad never been able to coax from her. Debra looked…chosen.Wanted. She looked exactly like someone who had been laughing all night and hadn’t had to think about who she was or how she was being perceived.
It warmed Billie to see her that way, but it also crushed her a little more, too.
