She was definitely still carrying that old weight.
I took another sip of my drink and kept minding my business. Or at least I tried to. But when she stood up from the table, her sandal caught against the leg of the chair. Her drink tipped over, splashing all over the table and the front of her dress.
“Damn,” she hissed, stepping back.
The waitress rushed over apologizing, but I was already on my feet before I could think better of it.
“You good?” I asked as I reached the table.
Melissa looked up, and the second her eyes met mine, recognition flashed across her face.
Her brows pulled together. “Roman?”
A small smirk tugged at my mouth. “Didn’t expect to see you all the way out here.”
She looked me over like she was making sure I was really standing there. “I could say the same thing about you.”
The waitress kept apologizing while wiping the table down, but Melissa waved her off.
“It’s fine,” she said. “It was an accident.”
I looked at the wet spot on her dress, then back at her. “You always making scenes when I’m around?”
Her eyes narrowed at me, but I caught the hint of amusement underneath it.
“Boy, don’t start,” she said. “At least ain’t nobody getting hit with a bat this time.”
That pulled a real laugh out of me.
And I couldn’t remember the last time that happened that easy.
“Nah,” I said. “You seem calmer today.”
She folded her arms. “Don’t let this vacation fool you.”
The breeze moved between us, carrying the smell of salt and her perfume, and for a second we just stood there looking at each other. It was strange seeing her outside of all that chaos. No yelling. No tears. No madness. Just her.
Even in silence, she had a pull to her.
“You here alone?” I asked.
Her expression shifted just a little, enough for me to know I had stepped too close to something personal.
“Yeah,” she said after a beat. “Needed a break.”
I nodded. “I get that.”
She tilted her head. “What about you? Club slow, so you decided to leave the city?”
I let out a short laugh. “Something like that.”
The truth was, I ain’t feel like unpacking my grief to nobody, especially not standing there in the middle of a restaurant. But something in the way she looked at me told me she already knew what pain looked like. Maybe that was why the conversation didn’t feel forced.
“Let me buy you another drink,” I said.
Melissa glanced at the table, then back at me. “You persistent I see?”
“Only when I feel like it.”
