I watch him go, shoulders easy, steps unhurried. Our eyes meet for a second when he looks my way over the driver’s door as he slides into the car. I stand there a moment longer than necessary, the echo of him still warm against my skin.
It’s Saturday brunch,the café is warm and loud, sunlight spilling through the tall windows, the smell of toasted bread and maple syrup thick in the air. Rebecca’s had her fill of egg white omelet with a side of French toast. Although, the second Nate disappears toward the restroom, I know she hasn’t had her fill of poking and prodding into where my head is at. Once the server refills our coffee, she attacks, stirring cream into her mug.
“So… how are you actually doing?”
I wrap both hands around my mug, letting the heat soak into my fingers. “I’m okay.”
Her eyebrow lifts. Right. She’s worked with teens for ages; she knows a deflection.
I sigh. “I don’t really know yet,” I admit.
She nods, unperturbed by the nonanswer. “That seems fair.”
The clatter of dishes fills the pause between us, and she leans back slightly in her chair.
“I’m glad you came today. Even if things between you two are… complicated.”
“That’s an understatement.”
She smiles faintly.
I glance down at the table. “I really admire you as a mother.” I flick my eyes up to her. “I know we talk a lot of shop, but… my family wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Rebecca tilts her head. “No?”
I shake my head.
“My dad lives overseas. We’re not… talkers.” I trace the edge of my napkin with one finger. “If something goes wrong, you figure it out on your own and keep working without a hitch. It’s what Dad did when Mom passed.”
She hums. “That explains a lot.”
I look up. “What do you mean?”
“You’re very good at holding yourself together. Even when you shouldn’t be.”
“You should always be able to hold it together,” I counter.
“Maybe,” she says, bringing the mug to her lips. “You should also be able to count on the people closest to you.” She flicks her blue gaze to mine and waits.
The memory of getting ready for rounds one day and finding a video of my boyfriend kissing someone else still stings. But what I can’t get over are the signals I overlooked. And the ones I may miss again.
My fingers curl around the mug.
“You’re scared.” Her expression softens. “That he’ll hurt you again.”
I shake my head. “That too.” I exhale slowly. “But mostly that I won’t see it coming.” The words sound small out loud. “In my family… we say you have to trust yourself. I was raised to run on my own judgment and instincts.
“And now I can’t shake that they’re just… faulty.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment.
Then she reaches across the table and rests her hand lightly over mine. Her palm is warm.
“Robyn, what have you learned in all of this?”
My brows pull together slightly. “What do you mean?”
“You went through a breakup that, it sounds like, shook you to your core. Understandably so.” Rebecca’s voice gruffs out as if she’s getting angry at Nate. “You must have learned something.”
