That only deepened the look on her face, something caught between disbelief and amusement.
“Because until a few months ago, your entire life basically consisted of this café and your apartment,” she said.
“That’s not true.”
“It absolutely is.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out fast enough, and that alone seemed to confirm her point.
She leaned forward onto the counter, studying me. “Glen and Lynn showing up was the first time I’ve seen you go out voluntarily in years,” she said.
I grimaced before I could stop myself. It wasn’t entirely wrong.
“People change,” I said after a beat, though it came out more defensive than I intended.
Janine tilted her head slightly. “Do they?”
“Yes,” I said quickly, then added, “I have other plans too.”
That got her attention. “What plans? With who?”
“My friends from college.”
Her expression shifted immediately, surprise breaking through the skepticism.
“We’ve been talking again,” I added before she could say anything.
One of them had reached out months ago, then another joined later, and somehow the conversation had kept going.
They were trying to organize a dinner in the city. It was still months away, but it was real now because I hadn’t ignored it.
Her features softened at that, the teasing easing into something more measured. “Really? And you said yes?”
“I replied,” I said, like that settled it.
A faint smile tugged at her mouth, and I knew exactly what she was seeing.
It wasn’t really about the dinner or the plan. It was the fact that I hadn’t immediately dismissed it. That I hadn’t instinctively found a way out of it.
She would’ve been right about me once. A few months ago, I would’ve let it disappear without replying. I would’ve told myself I was too busy, too tired, too needed here.
Work had been enough then. The café, my apartment, the routine I didn’t have to think about.
For a long time, I had told myself that was enough, but lately it felt more like something I’d been using to stay in place. Because as long as nothing changed, nothing could go wrong.
Janine watched me for a moment longer, her expression shifting slightly. “Why don’t you take Dane?”
I looked away, focusing too intently on the flyer still in my hand. “That’s not really a thing.”
“What happened?” she asked, quieter now.
That question should have been simple. It wasn’t. Before I could stop myself, I was already thinking back, replaying the last few weeks in fragments I hadn’t properly examined until now.
Dane not coming in at his usual time. Me noticing it anyway. Telling myself it meant nothing. Looking up every time the café door opened without admitting why.
The careful, slightly awkward conversation the last time he had stopped by. The way everything had started to feel like it was pulling back without either of us saying it out loud.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think maybe I got ahead of myself.”
