Unbothered, she smiled to herself.Silence from Nash usually just meant he was saving it for later—for their phone calls.
The front door chimed.Jordan came in with a rush of cold air, cello case strapped to her back, black leather jacket half-open, bleached pixie falling into her eyes beneath a red beret.
“Fuck this weather,” she muttered, turning sideways between the tables before shrugging the cello from her shoulders and setting it carefully against the wall.“Fuck winter.And fuck this city.”
Collapsing into the chair across from Cassie, she continued, “Some asshole on the subway actually goes, ‘You’d be so much prettier without that.’”She hooked a finger toward her septum ring.“Like I fucking asked, right?Like I woke up this morning praying some finance bro would weigh in on my face.”
“Please tell me you slapped him with his man purse.”
Jordan’s mouth curved.“Say that again.Slower.”
Cassie shot her a look.Since she’d been back, Jordan had been relentless about the return of her accent—catching it every time it slipped out just to be a pain in the ass.
“No,” she replied, clipped and deliberate.“I will not.”
“Yeah, no, babydoll, it’s still there.”
“It.Is.Not.”
“Cassie.”Jordan leaned forward.“I’m gonna hold your hand while I say this.It gets worse when you try to kill it.”
Cassie made a show of setting her phone down with a thump while Jordan leaned back in her chair, studying her.“So.Have you made any plans to see him yet, or are we still pretending you’re not basically married?”
“We are not basically married.And when exactly am I supposed to go?Between the five and eight?”
Most mornings started before sunrise, coffee growing cold somewhere nearby while she stood in the half-light of her apartment running scales until her fingers loosened.Rehearsals bled into performances, fittings, the works—days disappearing so fast she barely noticed them.
“We’ve got a night off coming up.Plenty of time for a quickie—trip.Whatever.”Jordan waggled her brows.
“You rehearsed that, didn’t you?”Cassie shot back.“And we only have half a night off.And a call time the next morning.”
“Still sounds like excuses.”Jordan shrugged out of her jacket.“We had that three-day weekend last month.You could’ve gone then.”
The barista appeared beside the table, setting two cups down between them along with a pair of plates.Cassie glanced down at her usual—oat milk latte, extra hot—and a still-warm blueberry muffin split clean down the middle with butter.Jordan’s was drip coffee and a bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel.
About to take a sip, Cassie’s phone buzzed against the table.
Nice underwear
Bike’s decent too
She blinked at the texts, a slow grin curling the corners of her mouth.
Jordan, catching the expression, pointed at her with both hands.“Oh my god, you can’t even hide it anymore.You’re so down bad it’s catastrophic.”
“Shut up.”Cassie flipped the phone face down and returned to her coffee.
Jordan grinned wider.“No, seriously.Look at you.You’re smiling at your coffee like a divorced dad in a Hallmark movie.Cas, come on, just go see your man already.”
Sighing, Cassie glanced out across the café.
Irritatingly enough, Jordan wasn’t wrong.She could have gone last month.
Seeing him wasn’t the problem.It was everything after.
What if it felt different in person than it did over the phone?
What if it slipped back into what it used to be?
