She slid a cup across with no lid, because she knows I stay when I’m spiraling. The coffee was dark enough to read omens in. I took a sip that should’ve scalded me and set it down, throat tight.
“She leaves tonight,” I said.
Riley leaned in on her elbows, chin propped on her knuckles, and a nosy, knowing look in her eyes. Reckless River in human form.
“And what exactly are you planning to do about that?”
“Apparently, bring her beverages labeled emotionally neutral and walk away.”
“Huh,” she said. “Bold strategy.”
“She’s… she’s got a life,” I said, and the words scraped coming out. “Everything in Seattle. An apartment. Work.Friends. Yoga classes with names I can’t pronounce. Noise that makes her feel like she’s moving forward.”
“And you’ve got the Stag,” Riley said, not unkindly. “A river and a routine and a flannel rotation.”
“I’m not dragging her into something half-built,” I said. “I know what casual looks like with me. It’s jokes and late nights and dodging the truth until the truth leaves town.”
Riley wiped a nonexistent spot off the counter, eyes never leaving my face. “I’m going to ask a rude question.”
“You always do.”
“Are you actually ready to be in a steady relationship, or do you just like the idea of being the guy she chooses in a snowstorm?”
I flinched harder than I meant to. “Rude.”
“Effective,” she said. “Answer it.”
I stared at the coffee, watched the surface tremble when a bass line thumped through the floorboards.
Ready.
The word sat there like a dare.
I thought about last night in the booth with her shoulder brushing my arm, the way she tried not to grin at my dumbest jokes, Lydia and Callum across from us being infuriatingly together and perfect. Thought about this morning at her door, hair wild, nightshirt barely containing chaos, the way she said leaving would be harder if I kept saying true things.
“I want it,” I said, honest as I knew how to be.
“Wanting is easy,” Riley said gently. “Ready is a different story.”
I laughed. “Since when are you the town therapist?”
“Since people started paying me in confessions instead of cash.” She pointed a stir stick at me like a gavel. “Steady looks like texting when you’re tired. It looks like leaving the bar at midnight and still choosing to listen instead of deflect. It looks like fewer jokes when the jokes are just armor. It looks like not flirting with peppermint martinis when you’re bored. It looks like a plan that respects her life as much as you love yours.”
I breathed out through my nose. “I don’t flirt with martinis when I’m bored.”
“No, you just drink them.” Riley blinked.
“Okay,” I said, grimacing. “Sometimes I flirt with martinis when I’m bored.”
“Yeah.” Riley softened, her voice dropping. “Drew, you’re not a bad man. You’re a good man who learned a dozen ways to keep himself from feeling alone. But if this is going to be steady, it can’t be six months of silence and one blizzard kiss and a mocha with plausible deniability. And that’s not on you.”
The words landed. Not like a slap but like a hand on the shoulder, turning me toward a better road.
“What if I mess it up?” I asked. It was the quietest thing I’d said all morning. “I’ve got the Stag. I’ve got responsibilities that eat nights and weekends. I’ve got… my own head to fight with. What if I promise consistency and deliver chaos?”
“Then you apologize, you learn, and you keep showing up,” she said. “You stop being the lovable tornado and start being a man with a calendar.”
“That’s bleak.”
