Page 69 of Wells

He steps up to the counter and hands his over.

We end up standing side by side while the clerk disappears again.

"You look good," he says.

I glance at him. He is smiling, easy and familiar, the same expression he used to wear when he wanted something.

"Thanks."

"How have you been?"

"Busy. You?"

"Same. Work is insane. But good. It's really good to see you."

I smile but don't reciprocate. Because it isn't good to see him.

The clerk comes back with his shirts, and my second bag that only has one shirt. I could have lived without this shirt until next time.

He gives her two twenties and tells her to keep the change. What a gentleman. We both turn toward the door. I push it open and step into the sunlight. The brightness makes me squint.

Cas follows me out onto the sidewalk. I expect him to say goodbye and head the other direction. Instead, he stops next to me.

"Coffee? Ten minutes. For old times' sake. I want to catch up."

I look at him. His expression is open, hopeful, like the past four months didn't happen. Like he didn't leave me scrambling to cover rent and scraping together an OnlyFans account to survive.

"That sounds like a phrase people use right before they make a terrible decision."

He grins. "So that is a yes?"

I should say no. I should walk away and spend my Saturday doing literally anything else. Locke is in Vegas, and I'm pathetically inside my own head.

The week has left me hollow, and the idea of sitting across from someone who already knows me seems easier than pretending to be fine alone.

"That is me making no promises about being pleasant."

"Fair enough."

We start walking. The café is two blocks down, a place we used to go together on weekends. I wonder if he picked it on purpose or if he just forgot.

The silence stretches between us. I clutch the dry cleaning against my chest and keep my eyes on the sidewalk.

"So," he says. "What have you been up to?"

"Working, mostly. Still doing my yoga. Some habits are hard to break, as you said."

"You still dragging yourself across town for those kids?" He smiles when he says it, fond and dismissive at once, the way he always made it sound like a charming waste of my time. "Please tell me you finally got a real paycheck out of it."

I don't tell him I teach three evenings a week now. I won't give him the chance to call it a waste to my face again.

"I've got a new job, actually."

"Where?

"Stone Intermodal."

His eyebrows lift. "That is a big move. Congrats."