14. Leo （Then） #2
“Well, a certain someone. Hypothetically.” He cleared his throat. “I really enjoyed this.”
“Okay. Breakfast sounds … really nice.” She paused. “Maybe not every third morning, though. Once a week? That I can do.” He smiled across the booth at her. “You choose the day. Just give me a heads-up so I can pretend I’m a morning person.”
Over the next few months, breakfast at Minka’s settled into a rhythm neither of them ever named.
They traded stories—his calls, her bar drama, town gossip.
He was the first to invite her to the book club the new librarian, Cali, was starting.
They’d meet in the alley and walk there together, already bickering over the book club pick.
He started swinging by the bar often, in the daylight, when he knew Andrew would be teaching.
He no longer waited for his birthday as an excuse to chat her up.
And once every week Minka made sure the corner booth was cleared for them.
Every now and then, at breakfast he’d ask, “So how’s Andrew?” and listen as her answers shifted from warm to vague to paper-thin. He noticed. He always noticed. And then he’d tell himself to shut up and stay in his lane, the good friend who knew her coffee order and never pushed too hard.
Then one morning, at the end of spring, he clocked the small diamond ring on her left ring finger while she stirred cream into her coffee.
He felt a little twist in his chest but didn’t ask.
At least not at first. And she didn’t bring it up either.
But curiosity got the better of him, the way it kept glinting under the café lights.
While they were talking about the next book club pick, he shifted topics.
“So … when were you going to tell me about the ring?”
Lynne’s eyes grew wide, but she laughed it off. “Oh that. Yeah, we got engaged.”
Leo took a slow sip of his coffee. He’d suddenly lost his appetite. “I hear that’s what happens before a ring appears.”
“I mean, it made sense. Right? We’ve been together long enough.” She shifted in her seat. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Hey, you don’t owe me a press release,” he said lightly.
“But I expect an invitation.” She chuckled, but his chest still felt too tight.
He wrapped both hands around his mug, letting the heat bite into his palms, and forced himself to smile.
This was kind of what he’d wanted anyway, right?
To see her happy? It just wasn’t going to be with him.
He asked about the venue, the date, anything that kept her talking and kept his own stupid hopes from saying something out loud.
Then, several months later and a few weeks before his next birthday, Lynne reached across the table for the hot sauce. He didn’t notice the steam curling off his coffee or the way the rain streaked down Minka’s front windows. It was Lynne’s bare left hand.
“What happened?” he said, pointing at the empty space where the diamond used to flash. The question slipped out before he could dress it up.
Lynne froze, fingers curling back and hiding under the table. For a second her eyes went glassy, then she blinked hard and stared down at the stained napkin under her mug instead.
“Andrew happened,” she finally said. Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact in way he’d never heard from her. “He cheated.”
“Lynne…”
For a second, all he could see was his fist colliding with Andrew’s smug face.
That arrogant tool with his tone-deaf questions the night Lynne had introduced them.
All this time, Leo just assumed Andrew was some deeply independent guy who cherished Lynne.
Now all that distance and the busy schedule he kept burned to clarity in hindsight.
Heat roared in Leo’s ears. It would be so damn easy to say everything he had been swallowing for a year.
To tell her she deserved better. To tell her he could be better.
Instead, he forced himself to take a breath, sit up straight, and get his shit together for her. “I’m sorry.” Two small words that felt so useless right now but were all he had.
“Yeah. Well. I guess I’ve learned my lesson.
Never trust. And never fall in love.” She said it like a warning, like she was offering sage advice to him.
But he knew enough about her to see it was just a wall she was building to hide the raw pain.
Lynne blinked hard and took a sip of coffee.
“Anyway, I didn’t come here this morning to cry in your biscuits. How are things at the station?”
“Hey, you can cry on whatever you want. Breakup tax. But it might be more satisfying to see those tears fall on another half order of extra-crispy hash browns. Hmm?” That earned him the smallest huff of a laugh. “Let me flag down Minka.”
“You’re an idiot,” she muttered with a smile.
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat as her foot gently nudged his under the table. They sat like that for a while without talking. Just the sound of rain against the window beside them.
Leo let himself glance at her hand one more time, at the empty space where the ring had been, and felt a flicker of hope he couldn’t dare let her see. Not today. Not yet.
“Same time next week?” he asked when the check came. “Unless you need more hash browns before then.”
Lynne hesitated then nodded. “Sure. Next week.” Then she paused. “Hey, Leo. I just want to say I’m really glad we’re friends. I can’t talk about this to a lot of people. And I’ve had enough on my hands since Dad’s surgery.”
He remembered. She’d canceled their breakfast a few weeks ago to take Dale to his doctor. A surgery was scheduled soon after. For a fleeting moment, anger bubbled up in him again at the thought of Lynne’s fiancé leaving her at a time like that. But he pushed it down.
“I’m glad we’re friends, too, Lynne. Let me walk you back? Maybe I can pop in to say hi to Dale, too.”
“I’m sure he’d like that.”
He stood to grab their coats and handed Lynne hers. The bell above the door clanged as they exited together. “So what are you wearing for Halloween?” he asked. “I’m thinking a cowboy.”
It wasn’t a promise. Not really. Next week’s breakfast or anything beyond that. But as they walked along Main Street toward O’Donnell’s, the conversation, the nearness of her, the knowing it was him she could still open up to, let a little bit of sunshine peek through the gray morning.