“Sebastian,” she says, bright and calm. “Hello.”
The blond guy straightens, glancing between us. “Hey,” he says, his voice friendly. “You want to order? We’re?—”
“I’ll have a black coffee,” I say, my eyes never leaving Ivy.
The guy blinks. “Uh. Sure.”
When he moves, ringing up my order, I glance over at the nametag on his shirt. Aaron. Of course, that’s his name. It fits his face.
Ivy tilts her head. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I don’t come here often.”
She nods, already knowing that.
I lower my voice. “We need to talk.”
“We are,” she says easily. “Right now.”
Aaron turns and sets my coffee on the counter. His gaze lingers on Ivy just a second too long. A wire pulls tight inside my chest.
I slide a bill across the counter without looking and grab the coffee. “Thanks.”
He nods, then hesitates. “So, uh—Ivy, I have a fifteen-minute break. I’ll be at the back table.”
“Save me a seat,” she says, sweet as anything.
My hand wraps around her arm, leading her to the opposite side of the café for privacy.
I release her just as quickly, like my hand made a decision my brain didn’t authorize. “You didn’t come by this morning.”
“I know.”
“That’s new.”
“So is this,” she replies, gesturing lightly around us. “You’re in the city. I’m in the city. It happens.”
I take a measured breath. “You’re changing the rules.”
She steps closer—close enough that I can smell her floral shampoo. “No,” she says softly. “You don’t get to be the only one with options.”
Options.The word lands where she intends it to.
I don’t like the implication that I’m an option.
I especially don’t like that I made myself one.
I glance past her to the table where Aaron is sitting. He’s watching us now. I size him up. He’s young. Open. Unafraid. He probably locks his doors.
I immediately dislike him.
I look back at Ivy. “This isn’t a game.”
Her eyes soften. “I know.”
“And yet,” I say, “you’re playing.”
She smiles. “Only because you are.”
