We finished eating not long after that. The conversation slowed until it felt easier to stand than to keep talking. I dusted my hands off and checked the time on my phone, even though I already knew what it would say.
“I should get back to work,” I said.
Dane looked up like he had been pulled back from somewhere else. “Right.”
We walked back the same way we came, slower this time, like neither of us was in a rush to end it, but neither of us wanted to extend it either.
When we reached the edge of the park, I stopped.
“Thanks,” I said, because it felt like the only thing that made sense to say.
Dane nodded once. “I’ll see you around.”
It was the same words as before.
I gave a small nod back, even though something in my chest tightened at how final it sounded.
“Yeah,” I said. “See you.”
14
DANE
Iwoke up later than usual. There were no urgent pack or family events, so I decided to linger a little longer in bed.
After staring at the sunlight slipping through the curtains for half an hour and hearing the distant sound of something clattering in the kitchen downstairs, I decided to finally get up.
I dragged myself out of bed, hair sticking up in ways I didn’t care enough to fix. Before I even made it properly into the hallway, I picked up my phone off the nightstand.
Seth crossed my mind immediately. I unlocked my phone without really thinking about it, thumb hovering over his contact. For a second, I just stared at it.
A simple message would’ve been easy.
Morning.
Hope your shift’s okay today.
Have a good day.
Something like that, but my thumb paused. A small, inconvenient thought slid in. Was that weird?
We weren’t officially anything. The fake dating arrangement had technically already served its purpose. The wedding was over. There wasn’t a reason for constant check-ins anymore.
So sending a “good morning” text felt loaded in a way I couldn’t quite explain. It felt like I was assuming a closeness that might not exist outside my head.
My jaw tightened slightly. I stared at the screen a moment longer. Then I locked it again and set the phone back down.
“Right,” I muttered under my breath.
Probably better not. If Seth wanted to talk, he would.
That was what I told myself anyway as I finally headed downstairs, ignoring the faint, stubborn feeling in my chest that didn’t quite agree.
It then struck me that the house smelled like butter and sugar. That was suspicious.
When I stepped into the kitchen, I found my mom already in full production mode. Bowls were out, and there was flour everywhere.
She held a mixing spoon in one hand and smiled at me. I looked at an ambitious stack of pancakes already cooling on a plate on the counter.
