Page 44 of Matchmaking On The Menu

“I don’t know,” I repeat, because apparently that’s my brand now.

Shelly squints at me. “Did you scare him off?”

“I did not scare him.”

“You do have a face that could intimidate weak men,” she says thoughtfully.

“Thank you, Shelly. That’s very reassuring.”

“I mean it as a compliment.”

Mary steps a little closer, her eyes raking over my face, my shoulders, my hands like she’s cataloging damage.

“He apologized,” I say, the words feeling strange even as I say them out loud.

They all freeze.

“He what?” Shelly demands.

“He said sorry. And then he just… left.”

Quadri lets out a low, unimpressed breath. “Coward.”

“No,” Mary says quietly.

We all look at her.

“No?” Shelly echoes.

Mary shakes her head slightly, her gaze drifting back toward the crowd where he disappeared. “That didn’t look like fear.”

I swallow because she’s right. It didn’t feel like fear. It felt like… like something had snapped, or maybe like something had gotten too close.

“That was weird,” Shelly decides.

“That was very weird,” I agree.

“And yet,” she adds, eyes narrowing slightly, “you are glowing.”

“I am not glowing.”

“You are absolutely glowing.”

“I’m flushed,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”

“Your definition of ‘flushed’ is concerning.”

I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t quite land. My body is still too aware. Too… keyed up.

The music picks up, pulling people back into movement, breaking whatever spell had settled over the tent. The crowd swallows the space he left behind like it never existed. Like he never existed.

Except… he did. He definitely did. My body is still reacting as if he’s standing right here. “That was him,” I say suddenly.

Three heads snap toward me.

“Who?” Shelly asks.

“The guy from the diner.”