And then I see him, the same waiter from the last time. He catches my eye, smiles warmly, and shoots me a discreet little high five as I walk by.
Oh, no.
Oh, no no no.
Nathan raises an eyebrow as I sit down. “Fan favorite here?”
I force a laugh, cheeks on fire.
We order drinks.
Nathan’s eyes are fixated on me, then they narrow slightly.
“What?” I ask, following his gaze.
He tilts his chin toward my shoulder. “You’ve got… something.”
I glance down.
Not flour.
Cat hair.
Of course.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Oh. That’s just Dr. Doom.”
He blinks once. “Dr. Doom.”
“My cat,” I clarify. “He’s dramatic.”
Nathan studies me like he’s trying to decide if I’m joking. “You named your cat after a Marvel villain.”
“He earned it.”
A corner of his mouth twitches. It’s barely there, but it’s real.
“So you really like animals?” he asks, reaching for his glass.
“Always have,” I say. “Since I was little.”
“How many do you have?”
“Just one rescue cat and a betta fish. Stuart.” I pause. “He has less personality.”
“Just the one rescue?” he asks, like he’s keeping the conversation moving on purpose.
“Yeah. I mean, I’d have more if my apartment allowed it.” I shrug. “And if I wasn’t at the bakery fourteen hours a day.”
“It’s been worth it.”
I frown. “What has?”
“Your weekly deliveries.”
“You think so?”
Something shifts in his expression, subtle and restrained. “Yeah…even if you’re spilling everywhere.”
