Page 179 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

"I already am."

She grins over the rim of her cup. "You're impossible."

A few minutes later she stops in the middle of a sentence and looks directly at my hands.

"What?"

She points toward my coffee cup. "I've been watching you for almost five minutes."

I glance down. Without realizing it, I've folded the cardboard sleeve into a neat little triangle. One corner is already creased into what looks suspiciously like the beginning of a paper airplane.

"I didn't even notice."

She reaches across the table, gently takes the sleeve from my fingers, and sets it beside her cup.

"There."

"There?"

"Now let's see how long you last."

I fold my hands obediently in my lap and meet her gaze with exaggerated confidence.

"I'm perfectly capable of sitting still."

She doesn't answer. She simply smiles. Thirty seconds later, my fingers have found the paper napkin.

When I catch myself folding the corner into another tiny airplane, I look up to find Annette laughing so hard she has tears in her eyes.

"I knew it!"

"I honestly wasn't thinking about it."

"I know."

She wipes at the corner of one eye, still smiling. "That's what makes it funny." She studies the little paper airplane before sliding it back toward me.

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you've spent so many years looking after everyone else that your mind doesn't know how to be off duty."

I instinctively glance toward the room. An elderly gentleman is balancing a tray near the counter. A young mother is helping one child while another reaches for a napkin dispenser. Without thinking, I begin assessing whether either of them might need help.

Annette notices and says, "You just did it again."

"I know."

"No." She smiles gently. "I don't think you do."

I follow her eyes around the café and suddenly realize she's right. Even while we're having coffee, part of me is quietly scanning the room, looking for someone who might need something.

"You know what I think?" she says softly. "What?" "I think it's okay to simply enjoy your coffee."

The words are so ordinary they almost make me smile, but beneath them is something much bigger. It's okay to stop watching. It's okay to rest. It's okay if someone else opens the door, carries the tray, or solves the next problem.

For one full minute, I do exactly what she asked. I don't watch anyone else. I don't look toward the door. I simply sit across from Annette, enjoying good coffee and easy conversation.