Chapter 8 – Elise #4
“I don’t let that happen much,” she said. “The relaxing part.”
Graham nodded once, slow. “Maybe you should.”
“That sounds like a trap,” she said, teasing.
“Only if it works,” he said, smiling again.
They fell quiet, but not awkwardly so. The silence had weight to it, like the hush that happens before something begins.
Elise tilted her head, a corner of her mouth lifting. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
He shrugged. “Not usually. But I know a moment when I’m in one.”
Something shifted between them then—something not quite said, but undeniably felt. Elise leaned back, studying him with the kind of playful scrutiny that made him sit up straighter.
She gave him a sideways glance that was more smile than smirk. “Is this your version of subtle?”
“I’m incredibly subtle,” he said proudly. “And observant. Like how I’ve seen you mouthing along with the finale song. Every night.”
Elise blushed, caught off guard. “Maybe I just like that part.”
“Or maybe,” he said softly, “you’re the only person in the building who loves this show as much as I do.”
That should not have felt intimate. It was a musical. A job. A tour stop. A thing she learned by reputation and proximity.
But it was. It felt like being recognized by someone who understood the difference between knowing the words and loving them.
She smiled into her glass. “Maybe I’m just sentimental.”
“Me too,” he said, without apology.
Their knees brushed, light and unplanned. Neither of them pulled away. The moment stretched, golden and slow, as if the room itself had dimmed to let them linger.
The world tilted.
Not in any grand, storybook way. Just enough to soften the edges, to make the space between heartbeats feel slower, warmer.
It had been three years. Three years of keeping her hands busy, her heart quiet, her exits visible.
Maybe she was allowed to flirt with the idea of wanting something.
Elise had been laughing—really laughing—for the first time in what felt like forever. Her hand brushed against Graham’s as she leaned forward, and he didn’t move away. Just touched her fingers, gentle and unassuming, like a question.
“You’re kind of extraordinary, you know,” he said.
She looked at him, a retort already rising. Something self-deprecating. Something safe. Something designed to hand the compliment back before it could touch her.
But his fingers were still near hers, and his eyes weren’t teasing, and the words landed somewhere she wasn’t prepared to defend.
Her breath caught instead.
For once, she didn’t want to make herself smaller than what someone saw in her.
Something in her began to lean in.
But then her gaze caught on something just beyond the window, and her entire body went entirely rigid.
A man was standing across the street. Tall. Familiar. Bathed in the honeyed glow of the streetlamp.
Her heart plummeted.
Him.
Her ex. Her mistake. A ghost from her past.
It couldn’t be. He wasn’t—
But the air shifted. Her whole body knew before her brain could catch up. That wasn’t him. Not anymore.
He looked at her. Smiled.
That cold, knowing smile. A smile that had no place in this warm little pocket of joy.
His lips moved. No sound. Just two words:
Found you.
Elise didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.
She screamed.
Then he vanished. Not like a person walking away. Not like something leaving a frame. Just—gone. Like smoke sucked from a room.
The brewery stilled, though the karaoke music buzzed on, indecent in its cheer. Heads turned. Eyes locked on her. The warmth she’d just begun to nestle into evaporated.
“Elise?” Graham’s voice was soft, close. Too gentle. “What happened?”
She stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly. Her hands fumbled for her bag.
“You didn’t see anyone?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Graham followed her gaze. “Outside? No. Just… street.”
“Okay,” she said, starting to back away. “I–I need to go.”
“Wait,” he said, brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”
Nick arrived like he’d stepped out of the woodwork—bright-eyed, a touch tipsy, but instantly attuned.
“Hey,” he said breezily, stepping into the space between her and whatever Graham had just started to say. “Elise, didn’t you say you promised me a round of karaoke hell before midnight? Your pick: Celine or Meatloaf.”
Elise blinked, heart still thudding in her ears.
“I—”
Nick leaned in closer, voice quieting. “Do you need to leave?”
She nodded. Once, firmly.
Without missing a beat, Nick offered Graham a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, man. She owes me a duet,” he joked, already steering Elise toward the door.
He snagged her bag from beside the bar without slowing, slinging it over his shoulder like they did this all the time.
As they slipped out the back, Elise glanced over one last time. Graham was by the bar, still watching. His brows were knit in confusion, maybe concern… and something like disappointment.
Elise looked away. The night had shifted. Something had cracked open. It no longer felt safe or still. In the hush of the alley, her heart still hammered in time with a song she hadn’t meant to sing.
The past was no longer resting.