“Walk me through it,” she said.
I let out a breath and looked out through the windshield like the answer might be posted somewhere just past the hood. “So I’m walking around nibbling on a few of those little meatballs when I ran into Deion.”
Simone didn’t react right away, but her posture shifted, subtle and immediate. “Okay,” she said. “And?”
“And to catch you up,” I said, adjusting the throw in my lap like it had suddenly become very important, “he’s been seeing someone.”
Simone blinked once. “Since when?”
“Apparently not recently,” I said. “He told me yesterday at WaxCon. Marcus texted me after like, ‘So… he finally said something?’”
Simone leaned back a little, processing. “And you’re just now telling me this?”
“I was busy pretending I was fine with it,” I said.
That earned me a look.
“I knew he could be out here,” I said. “I just never thought it was anything I needed to pay attention to.”
She went quiet after that, which for Simone meant she was paying attention on purpose. I smoothed my hand over the throw in my lap, then did it again like the fabric might tell me something different the second time.
“It’s been months,” I said. “Months, Simone. And he just… mentioned it. Like it had already settled into his life and I was just now being brought up to speed.”
Simone’s eyes stayed on me, steady, and she offered no commentary yet.
“And she’s apparently easy to be around,” I added, quick, like that mattered. “From what he said. From what I can tell. She’s good for him, but also it makes me feel like if that’s the distinction he points out, am I not that for him?”
“Okay.”
“And now he’s opening the store,” I said, the words picking up now. “Not talking about it. Not circling it. D is actually opening it. He had a plan, a whole layout in his head like he’s already been living in it.”
“That sounds like progress.”
“It is,” I said. “That’s the problem.”
That got her. Just a slight shift in her face.
I leaned my head back against the seat. “He’s doing all the things,” I said. “The real ones. The ones you do when you’re building something that’s supposed to last.”
“And?”
I exhaled, slow. “And I wasn’t there.”
Simone didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t know he was going today,” I said. “He didn’t call. Didn’t say, ‘Come with me,’ didn’t ask what I thought. I just… happened to be there.”
My fingers tightened slightly around the throw.
“And he was good,” I added, quieter now. “Like he didn’t need anything outside of what he already had figured out.”
Simone tilted her head. “Okay.”
I let out a small laugh that didn’t have anything funny in it. “And then we’re standing there, and he’s looking at chairs like he’s already decided what fits in his life…” I sat up a little straighter. “And he only needed one.”
“One what?”
“One chair,” I said. “That was it. That was enough. That was the plan.”
