twenty six
Sam was already in a booth by the window, her phone resting facedown on the table. Tati sat across from her, picking at the label on her water bottle.
I paused for a second in the doorway, just watching them.
We'd had a hundred nights like this. After shifts. Before shifts. On the rare nights none of us had to be anywhere.
But this was the last one before everything changed.
I wasn't sure I was ready for it.
Sam spotted me first and lifted her hand in a lazy wave.
"You're late," she called.
"Traffic," I lied as I slid into the seat beside Tati.
It wasn't traffic. I'd sat on a bench around the block for ten minutes, trying to talk myself out of feeling like this was a funeral.
Tati smiled faintly and nudged her shoulder against mine.
"Hey."
"Hey," I echoed.
For a minute, none of us said anything.
The waitress came by and filled our water glasses, asked if we needed menus.
Sam ordered fries for the table. Tati asked for tea.
I didn't order anything. My stomach was too tight.
"So," Sam said once the waitress walked away. "You're really doing it."
Tati let out a slow breath. "Yeah."
"Texas," Sam continued. "With Seth."
Tati rolled her eyes. "It's gonna feel so weird living with someone after having my own space for so long".
Tati caught my eye and gave me a long, searching look.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Because the truth was, I didn't know if I was okay.
Or if I was just pretending so nobody would ask me to explain what the hell I was doing with my life.
Sam must have sensed it too, because she leaned back in the booth and crossed her arms.
"Alright," she said. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," I said quickly.
"Bullshit."
"It's not-"
"Amira." Sam's voice was gentler now. "Come on."
I looked down at my hands. My fingers were cold.
"There's...something I need to tell you," I admitted.
Sam and Tati exchanged a look I couldn't quite read.
"What?" Tati prompted.
I swallowed.
"Please don't say you're pregnant," Sam cut in.
"Brooks...he bought a house."
Silence.
Sam blinked first. "Like...bought a house?"
"Yeah."
"For you?"
"For us," I corrected, though the words tasted strange in my mouth.
Tati pressed her lips together. "Where?"
"In Jersey," I said. "In some fancy town."
Another long pause.
Sam's expression shifted from surprise to something closer to concern.
"That's...big," she said finally.
"I know."
"When did this happen?"
"Last month," I admitted.
"Jesus, Amira."
Tati reached for my hand under the table.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. It felt...I don't know. Like if I said it out loud, it would be real."
I hesitated, then added, "And after everything with his mom...I didn't know if I should even consider it."
Tati's brows drew together. "What do you mean, everything with his mom?"
I stared at a crack in the tabletop.
"She...showed up," I said quietly. "At his place. She didn't know I was there."
Sam's face went still.
"What did she say?"
My throat felt tight.
"She...looked at me like I was trash," I whispered. "Like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She basically told me that someone like me-someone who dances for a living-wasn't fit to stand next to him."
Tati's hand tightened on mine.
"Oh my god," she breathed.
Sam didn't say anything at first.
Then she exhaled, rubbing her hand over her mouth.
"I'm so sorry," she said softly.
"I know she's not him," I went on. "I know that. But...it messed me up. Made me feel like I'm playing a role I'm going to get fired from any second."
Sam's voice was quiet. "And he just...let her talk to you like that?"
"No," I said quickly. "He tried to stop her. He told her to leave. But..."
"But she's still his mother," Sam finished.
"Yeah," I whispered.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
The fries arrived, but nobody reached for them.
Tati cleared her throat.
"So...the house. Is that supposed to be, what? A fresh start?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "He says it's a place that isn't about anyone else just for us two, but I don't know if I believe that."
Sam leaned in, her expression softer now.
"Do you want it to be?"
"I don't know," I said again. "Part of me does. Part of me thinks I'm insane."
"You're not insane," Tati murmured.
"But it's fast," Sam added gently.
"Yeah," I whispered. "It's fast."
Sam reached across the table, covering my hand.
"I just...I don't want you to give up everything you've done to get to this point if you're not sure."
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I want to be. But I'm not."
Tati looked at me, her eyes shiny.
"If you could take outside opinions away do you think being with him is something you want?"
I closed my eyes.
"It is," I whispered.
Sam sighed.
"Then be careful," she said. "That's all I'm saying. Just be careful."
And even though I knew they were right, a small part of me wanted to believe that love was enough.
Even if it wasn't.
A hush settled over the table, the kind that only happens when everyone has said the truth they have and there's nothing left to say.
I picked at the edge of a napkin, rolling the corner between my fingers. The fries were already going cold.
Sam finally cleared her throat. "Do you think you'll go see it?"
I started to answer-I don't know, maybe-but my phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with his name.
My stomach flipped, a dull, anxious churn.
Sam's eyes flicked to the screen, then back to me. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," I lied. "It's just...things have been getting more...public. Lately."
It was the safest way I could say it without admitting how much it scared me. How much I hated knowing people were out there, pointing cameras, making up stories.
It had been almost a month since he told me about the house. Almost a month since he'd looked me dead in the eye and said he bought it for us. And even though I hadn't said yes-or no-it had been sitting there in the back of my mind like a door I didn't know if I was brave enough to open.
"Brooks says there are photographers at the penthouse," I mumbled, tucking my phone back into my bag. "He offered to come get me."
Tati gave me a long look. "That's been happening a lot, hasn't it?"
"Yeah."
"And you're okay with it?"
"I don't know," I let out a small laugh. "I feel like the only words I've said tonight are I don't know."
Sam rubbed her palm over her mouth. "This is...a lot, Amira."
"I know," I whispered.
She didn't say be careful again, but she didn't have to.
Tati reached across the table, curling her fingers around my wrist. "You don't have to make any decisions tonight," she said quietly. "You can take your time."
I nodded, even though we all knew time wasn't going to make this any less complicated.
We paid the bill together, even though no one had really eaten. Tati insisted on covering the tip-Texas goodbye, she called it. Sam rolled her eyes and hugged her so tight I thought they might both start crying.
I hung back a second, watching them, wishing I could bottle up this feeling-this little scrap of ordinary-and keep it somewhere safe.
Outside, the wind bit through my coat the second the door swung shut behind us.
Sam squinted down the block. "You want me to wait with you?"
"No," I said softly. "It's okay. He'll be here in a minute."
She hesitated, then reached out and hugged me. "Just promise you'll call me if you need to talk."
"I will," I whispered.
Tati hugged me next. "Be careful," she murmured, her breath warm against my cheek.
I tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "You too."
They headed down the block together, arms linked, and I watched them go until they rounded the corner and disappeared.
I stayed there alone on the sidewalk, hugging my coat tighter around me, and pulled out my phone.
He replied almost immediately.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and pressed my fingers to my lips.
I didn't want to admit it out loud, but some part of me already knew what I was about to do.
I was going to say yes.
Even if it scared me.
Even if it meant walking into something I might not know how to walk out of.
The wind cut across my cheeks, sharp enough to make my eyes water. I blinked hard, staring down at the cracks in the sidewalk.
Five minutes passed. Then ten.
When his car finally pulled up, it wasn't Monte behind the wheel-it was Brooks.
I don't know why that surprised me.
He climbed out and came around to the passenger side. Even in the dark, he looked tired. The soft kind of tired that goes all the way to your bones. He opened the door without a word, just looking at me like he was still deciding whether to say something first.
"Hey," he said finally, voice low.
"Hey."
For a second, neither of us moved. The streetlight overhead glowed white against the top of his hair, making it look like he'd already gone a little gray.
"Cold?" he asked.
I nodded.
He held out a hand. I hesitated, then took it, letting him guide me into the warm hush of the car.
The door shut with a muffled click. He rounded the front and got behind the wheel.
The heater was already on, humming low. It smelled like cedar and clean leather inside, familiar in a way that made my throat tighten.
He didn't pull away right away. He just sat there, studying me like he was trying to decide which version of me he'd find tonight.
"How was it?" he asked finally.
I swallowed. "It was good. I'm really sad to see her go."
We fell quiet again. My gaze drifted to the window. Across the street, a neon sign in the window of a pizza place flickered between OPEN and CLOSED.
"Monte texted me about the paps," he said eventually. "They were camped out most of the day. They haven't gotten anything usable yet, but..."
"But they're going to," I finished for him.
His hand flexed on the steering wheel. "Yeah."
A tiny part of me wanted to ask if this was the part he regretted-if I was the part he regretted. But I didn't.