I became very aware of how far I was from the counter and how little space there was between us now. “I’m working.”
“Of course.” He nodded, gracious about it, and I recognized the graciousness for what it was—not understanding, just patience. The patience of someone who had decided that the answer they wanted would eventually come. “And outside of work—you meant what you said the other night.”
It wasn’t quite a question. “I did,” I said.
“Okay,” He said it warmly, like I’d confirmed something he already understood and wasn’t bothered by, and something in my stomach pulled tight because that wasn’t what I’d confirmed at all. “I’m not trying to push anything, Cara. I just think—” He paused, his smile softening into something more careful, more considered. “We were good together, back then. I don’t think that just goes away.”
“It was high school,” I said. “We were friends. Lab partners?—”
“Sure.” He gave a small laugh. “But you remember it. I can tell.” He looked at me with an openness that was almost convincing. “I think you’re being careful. Which makes sense. I just don’t want to get in the way of something that could actually be good.”
I wanted to take a step back and couldn’t think of a way to do it that wouldn’t be obvious. I wanted to say something that would close this down cleanly and permanently, and I couldn’t find the words that would do it without making it into something bigger. So I did what I always did. I stood there, and I smiled, and I kept my voice level, and I said his name like a soft boundary I was praying he’d respect. “Eric?—”
“No pressure,” he said, raising one hand lightly. “Really. I just wanted to say it.” He glanced around the shop, the smile settling back into something relaxed, and I felt the subject close over like water, smooth and immediate, as if he hadn’t just spent five minutes not listening to me. “Mystery Night sounds great, by the way. I’ve been telling people about it.”
I watched how he stood in my shop as if he’d always been welcome here, like the last two minutes had been a pleasant exchange between two people on the same page when it was not. “Great,” I murmured.
The bell chimed, and Lucy walked in. She took one look at the two of us and came to the counter without slowing, dropping her bag with a thud that was just slightly louder than necessary. Her voice was bright when she spoke, but I caught the way her eyes moved between us, clocking everything in about half a second.
“Hey,” she said, stepping up beside me close enough that our shoulders almost touched. I wanted to hug her.
Eric glanced at her. “Hey, Lucy.”
“Eric.” She didn’t smile. Just his name, flat and complete.
“I was just telling Cara how much I’m looking forward to Mystery Night,” he said pleasantly.
“Great,” Lucy said.
“You’ll be there too?”
“I will.”
“Good.” He smiled at her, then back at me, and his gaze lingered a beat longer than it needed to, warm and certain, like he was leaving me with something to think about rather than saying goodbye. Then he straightened. “I’ll let you get back to it. Just wanted to stop by.” He lifted a hand in an easy wave, turned, and walked to the door. The bell chimed as he left, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click.
I stood there for a second, the shop quiet again around me.
“What was that?” Lucy said, not moving.
“He just stopped by,” I said.
She turned to look at me with an expression that suggested she found that answer insufficient in every possible way. “Cara.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
Lucy let out a slow breath beside me. For a moment, she didn’t say anything.
The shop felt different the second the door closed behind him—bigger, somehow. Quieter in a way that had nothing to do with noise. I hadn’t realized how much of my energy had been going toward holding myself steady until I didn’t have to anymore. My shoulders dropped about half an inch on their own.
“Okay,” Lucy said. “You don’t have to explain. I get what’s happening.”
“I know you do,” I said.
“That was—” She stopped, seemed to decide against whatever she’d been about to say. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I reached for the edge of the display, adjusting a book that didn’t need it, mostly just to have something to do with my hands. “He’s just persistent,” I said. “He’ll lose interest eventually. He did before.”
Lucy pressed her lips together. “Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced, but she didn’t push it either.
