Zac.
His honey-brown eyes meet mine. A crooked half smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he steps in and lets the door swing closed behind him. He greets the table with an easy nod, dips his chin at Max, and shakes the girls’ hands.
No dramatic moment. No anticipation. Our side hug is brief, barely a second longer than it would be with anyone else.
He takes the stool on my other side, closer to me than anyone else but not close enough that we’re touching. When our knees brush beneath the table, he shifts away quickly, almost startled.
Zac lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing absently before leaning in, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
“Hey,” he murmurs. His hands settle in his lap, fingers threading together, then unthreading, then tightening again. “I realize we haven’t seen much of each other in weeks. Would it be weird if we called it an early night and went back to my place? Just… check in for a bit?”
I nod, mirroring his posture without meaning to. There’s something in the careful pause before “check in.”It makes me brace for a conversation about benefits I haven’t felt ready to untangle. I thought we were both on the same page about things naturallyfizzling out.
Before I can verbally answer, Serena claps her hands. “Hey, you two. Trivia starts in five. No cheating. And yes, Robyn—that includes your sexy doctor brain.”
“I barely watch anything other than baking shows,” I mutter
Ellie adds, “We’re relying on Zac for useless pop-culture knowledge. We’ve heard he’s good at that.”
Zac glances at me, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes. “You talk to your friends about me?”
I shrug. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
He better not because it’s not about how cute and great he is, but more about how I worry I’m getting in over my head, no matter how much he says he’s got his own crap to unpack.
Somewhere around the third question, whatever tension existed fades into the background. There’s laughter. Markers squeaking as answers are scribbled down. A heated debate about ’90s boy bands. Max insists the most popular food in the states is corn syrup. And it all folds into an easy, ordinary kind of fun.
Until two male voices rise near the bar.
Behind the counter stands a woman. She’s a short redhead with a thick ponytail brushing the middle of her back. A simple black T-shirt clings to her frame, outlining the curve of her bra in a way that’s more vulnerable than suggestive. Her green eyes hold steady on the two men looming over the bar while she taps her fingers on the bar counter. Pretty in a quiet, unintentional way.
Both men lean in too close. One of them laughs too loudly. The other tips his shot glass toward her, inch by inch, even as she shakes her head.
Zac goes rigid beside me.
“Didn’t you used to live in the big house on the hill?” one of them says. “Didn’t you run out of town? Too good for us? Too good foryour fiancé?”
Her jaw tightens, and her knuckles go white around the glass she’s holding.
Zac’s body changes completely. Tension locks his spine. His jaw clenches so hard the muscle twitches beneath his cheek. Then he bounces his leg, vibrating against the side of my knee. With a measured gesture, he places his curled hand, knuckle white, on the table.
I know who she is to Zac.
“Do you want another drink or not?” she asks, but her voice has gone thin around the edges.
Zac leans forward, halfway out of his seat already, breath sharp in his chest.
“Hey,” I murmur, still watching the scene unfold, “go check on her, if you want.”
“What?” He turns to me, startled. “Robyn, no, I?—”
“It’s fine.” I place my hand on his wrist, feeling the elevated thumping of his heartbeat and his tension under my fingers. “If you want to get those guys out of her face, you should.”
“But what about… us?” he asks. His eyes don’t quite meet mine this time. “I thought we were trying to see if this could go somewhere.”
The pause, the lowering of his eyes, it makes me think of that strange way he asked to check in. I’m gentle when I say it, but I also don’t leave any room for misunderstanding, because I think he knows it too. “I think we’ve seen how far this goes, Zac.”
Sadness and gratefulness cross his face at the same time. He nods once, a quiet acceptance, then slides off the stool.
