Chapter 8 #2
“There was a gas leak or something,” he said, sauntering up to the counter. “School’s canceled for the rest of the day.”
“Lucky you,” she said, though her attention had already slid to Phoebe, who clung to River’s arm like she might float away without him.
“I’ll have a medium cappuccino with oat milk and an extra shot,” Phoebe said sweetly. “River said he was treating all of us.”
Zoe glanced past her to the group, which was at least ten kids deep.
River frowned. “I said I was treating you. I didn’t say anything about everyone else.”
Phoebe’s lips curved into a pout, her eyes going wide. “But your dad owns the business…”
Zoe kept her expression neutral. I am not getting involved in this one.
She could see where Phoebe was coming from. At seventeen, Zoe might’ve assumed the same. But River? He was a Goodhue. His frugal streak ran deep.
Phoebe leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I must have misunderstood.”
River caved like a sandcastle at high tide. He slid an arm around her and pulled her close. “Okay, fine. Two cappuccinos.”
Zoe bit back a smile. Well played, Phoebe. Well played.
As the café filled with laughter and clinking cups, Zoe glanced at the clock again. The midday rush was finally winding down, and she’d still have time to make her lunch with Brynn and Daisy.
She needed it. Desperately.
A clear head. A little perspective. Maybe even a reminder that the heart could be messy, but that didn’t mean it was wrong.
“Why have I never been in here before?” Zoe asked, glancing around the cheerful little café that had once been Marigold’s, a salon known for uptown blowouts and small-town gossip.
Zest was something else entirely.
Sunlight streamed through wide windows, bathing bistro tables in a honeyed glow.
Mismatched pottery vases held sprigs of dried lavender, and chalkboard menus dotted the walls with loopy script and charming fruit illustrations.
A mural of dancing produce—yes, with sunglasses—wound across one wall, and the air carried notes of ginger, citrus and something bright and green that was probably good for you.
It shouldn’t have worked. But it absolutely did.
“This place is adorable,” Zoe said, eyeing the dessert menu. “It’s giving ‘Zen with a side of hipster,’ and I’m kind of obsessed.”
Brynn grinned as she speared the last bite of endive on her plate. “Daisy turned me on to it. Only my second time here, but I knew you’d love the vibe.”
“It hasn’t been here long, but it’s already one of my favorite spots,” Daisy said, waving to a staff member. “I know everyone who works here.”
Zoe glanced around at the tiny succulents lining the windowsills and the hand-thrown mugs at every table. “It’s very you, Daisy. Bright colors, healthy food and just the right amount of quirky.”
“And not a fried food in sight,” Brynn teased.
“I’m glad we came,” Zoe said, then hesitated. “Being with you guys…is just the boost I needed.”
Brynn’s smile softened. “Okay. What’s going on?”
Zoe blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been quiet since you sat down,” Brynn pointed out.
“Yeah,” Daisy added. “Like, deep-in-your-salad quiet.”
Zoe hesitated. She’d come intending to talk about John, to unravel the sudden shift between them that lingered like a bruise. But the words tangled up before she could pull them free.
So, she pivoted.
“Did you hear about the gas leak at the high school?”
Brynn lifted her cucumber water, brows raised. “No, but I saw a bunch of teens out earlier. Carter and Graham are probably already planning a party in the woods.”
Zoe chuckled. “The Grind filled up fast. River showed up with Phoebe and a bunch of their friends.”
“That’s not what’s bothering you,” Brynn said gently.
“Tell us,” Daisy said. “We’re your buds. If you can’t talk to us, who can you talk to?”
Zoe shifted in her seat.
“Is this about John?” Brynn asked softly. “Do you have feelings for him?”
A spark lit in Daisy’s eyes. “You mean the hunky ex-best man you were with at the Ding-A-Ling?”
Brynn’s brows shot up. “Wait—you’re dating him?”
“It wasn’t a date,” Zoe said quickly. “We haven’t even gone on a real one. It’s just…work.”
Daisy leaned in. “Okay, but you’re free, he’s available, and the chemistry is undeniable. Don’t tell me I imagined that look you gave him at the bar.”
“Hello, did you forget he was Erik’s best man?”
Daisy gave an exaggerated look around. “I don’t see Erik here, do you? Sounds like a green light to me.”
Zoe turned to Brynn. “Is that how you see it, too? Green light, all systems go?”
Brynn’s expression turned thoughtful. “More like yellow. Proceed with caution. It’s complicated, Zoe. Are you sure this isn’t about Erik? Like…trying to prove something? To him or to yourself?”
Zoe’s voice rose. “How can you say that?”
Two women at the next table glanced over, and Zoe quickly lowered her voice. “You know me.”
“I do,” Brynn said. “But we’re all human.”
“Well, I’m not using John to get over anyone,” Zoe said sharply. “That wouldn’t be fair to him or to me.”
“So you do like him?” Brynn asked gently.
Zoe dropped her gaze. “No. Yes. Maybe.” She set down her glass and dragged a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what I feel.”
“The good news?” Brynn said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “You don’t have to know. Just take it slow. Let it unfold.”
“Or,” Daisy said with a wink, “take it fast and enjoy the ride.”
As they moved on to order matcha cookies and ginger spritzers, Zoe found herself only half listening. The easy chatter between her friends swirled around her like sunlight through the café’s windows, warm and comforting, but not quite enough to steady the ache in her chest.
She did like John.
That wasn’t the confusing part.
What tangled her up inside was how fast it had all shifted. One minute, he was just a project partner, someone steady and competent with a quiet humor that made long meetings go faster. And then…something had changed. Or maybe she had.
Zoe hadn’t expected to feel anything again. Not after Erik. Not that kind of spark. Not that sense of being seen so clearly she didn’t have to explain herself.
And yet, with John…she hadn’t had to explain. He knew her. Not everything, but enough to meet her where she was, without pushing or pretending.
The memory of Sunday tugged at her—the warmth in his voice, the way he’d looked at her when she wasn’t sure anyone ever would again. Something unspoken had passed between them, a shift in the air that lingered even now.
She didn’t know what it meant. Only that it had left a mark.
And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
Zoe forced a smile as Daisy passed her a cookie, but her heart was somewhere else entirely, caught between what had been and what might be if she could only find the courage to reach for it.