Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Sam
The corner booth is full when I walk through the door.
Liv, Nadia, and Priya are already seated, coffee cups in front of them, but they're not looking at me. They're staring past me, toward the exit, like I'm invisible.
I stop three feet from the table.
Liv has her chin propped on her hand. Nadia leans back against the booth, arms crossed. Priya sits forward, elbows on the table.
All three watch the door.
I turn.
A guy in a suit pushes through the glass, to-go cup in hand. Tall, dark hair, expensive watch catching the morning light. Good looking. Symmetrical features. Confident stride.
It takes a second to register.
I squint. There's something familiar about the jawline, maybe the movement, but I can't place it.
He disappears down the sidewalk.
I turn back.
"Was that—"
Tristan appears beside the table with my latte before I finish the sentence.
He sets it down in front of the empty seat, crosses his arms, and looks at the group like a disappointed teacher.
"Mr. Double Espresso?" He tilts his head toward the window. "Yes, it was."
Nadia doesn't try to look innocent. "He's very symmetrical."
"And age-appropriate," Liv adds, still watching the window.
Priya shrugs. "And employed."
Tristan's eyebrows go up. "The reason you're all together." He pauses. "Wait. No. I’m the reason you’re all together. I’m the one who noticed you were all acting like high schoolers trying to get the cute boy's attention."
The three of them grin like they've been caught red-handed.
I slide into the booth and wrap my hands around the latte. "I couldn't place him at first."
"Well, that's because your brain has locked onto a certain hot photographer," Nadia deadpans.
Tristan turns his attention to me. His eyes narrow. "You should use eyeliner and lip gloss more often."
My hand goes to my face. I press my fingers against my cheekbone to hide the evidence.
He winks at the others. "She's glowing."
"I am NOT glowing." The words come out too fast.
Tristan's grin widens. "I'm guessing this has something to do with the hot photographer?"
My face heats. "Tom is—we're just—"
"Don't even try it," Priya says.
Liv leans forward. "You ARE glowing."
Nadia points at my face. "You're wearing makeup on a Monday morning. You never wear makeup on Mondays."
I pull my hand away and grip the latte again.
"I have a client Zoom at ten." My voice is steady. Controlled. "I wanted to look professional."
All three of them look at me.
Tristan looks at me.
The synchronized skepticism is damning.
Someone's phone buzzes. The door chime rings.
I stare at my latte.
Tristan backs toward the counter. "I'll leave you ladies to it." He glances over his shoulder. "But for the record? I approve."
The second he's out of earshot, Liv rotates her entire body toward me like the restraint just snapped.
"Okay." She sets her coffee down. "While we wait for Sam to catch up to reality, can we start the Tom Debrief?"
Priya pulls out her phone and opens the notes app with exaggerated ceremony. She shows me the blank screen. "Official Tom Debrief is now in session."
Nadia raises her hand like she's in a board meeting. "Motion to make this a standing agenda item."
I drop my forehead to the table. The wood is cool against my skin. "You did NOT just call it the 'Tom Debrief.'"
"We absolutely did," Liv says. Bright. Unapologetic. "And it's happening. So. Verdict?"
I lift my head. My hair sticks to my lip gloss. I brush it away. "On what?"
"On Tom," Priya says, like I'm being dense on purpose.
"We met him Friday," Nadia adds. "Now we debrief."
Liv taps the table once with her index finger. "Verdict."
I stare at my latte. "On what?"
Nadia leans forward. Calm. Factual. Delivering a quarterly report. "On whether he's staying."
Liv nods. "When I asked if he was staying in New York, he didn't hesitate. That's not a guy keeping his options open."
Priya looks up from her phone. "And he looked at you before he answered."
I blink. "He what?"
"He looked at you," Liv repeats. "Before he said yes. Like he was checking something."
Nadia tilts her head. "Like he was making sure you heard him."
My throat goes tight. I swallow.
"He's working against type," Priya says. She's looking at me now, not her phone. "I could see it. He's the kind of guy who usually has an exit plan."
She pauses.
"But I don't think he has one with you."
I wrap my hands tighter around the cup.
"And he was watching you the whole night," Nadia says. "Not in a creepy way. In a 'making sure you're okay' way. Every time we teased you, he checked your face to see if you were actually laughing or just being polite."
I open my mouth. Close it.
They're wrong. They have to be.
Tom is a travel photographer. Leaving is built into the job description. He spends half his life in airports and hotels. He told me about commissions that take him across three continents in a month. He's restless. He fixes things and moves on. That's what he does. That's who he is.
Staying isn't in his repertoire.
And even if it was—even if he wanted to—wanting doesn't mean choosing.
"I don't know." The words come out quiet. "We just—"
"Don't," all three say in unison.
The shutdown is absolute.
Nadia leans forward, palms flat on the table. She looks at Liv, then Priya, then back at me.
"Okay." Her voice is steady. "Let's spell it out so it gets through that thick skull of yours."
She looks directly at me.
"He's staying in New York, Sam. And it's because of you."
Liv's voice is softer, but just as certain. "He's fighting ten years of muscle memory telling him to run. Because he wants to be here."
Priya grins, slightly wistful. "Damn, girl. He couldn't stop looking at you." She leans back. "Lock it down."
They all laugh.
I stare at the table and try not to smile.
It doesn't work.
My mouth curves up.
"You're all impossible."
"We're all right," Priya says.
Liv reaches across the table and taps my hand. Light. Gentle. "Sam. You brought him to meet us."
I look up.
"That's not 'just colleagues,'" she says.
I don't like how right she is.
I pick up my latte and take a sip.
"I wanted you to meet him." The admission is quiet. "To see if... I don't know. If I'm seeing something that isn't there."
"You're not," Nadia says immediately. "It's there."
She pauses.
"Question is, what are you going to do about it?"
I set the cup down.
"I don't know." I trace the rim with my thumb. "He's in my system now. I can't just... file him away."
"Good," Priya says. "You shouldn't."
She leans forward.
"But you also can't control how this goes, Sam. You're going to have to trust the process."
My jaw tightens.
"You sound like Wren."
All three of them freeze.
Liv blinks. "Who's Wren?"
"Tom's sister," I say it like it's obvious.
The table explodes.
"His sister?" Priya gasps, dropping her phone flat onto the table.
"You met his family?!" Liv leans so far forward she nearly knocks over her coffee. "When?"
"Why was this not the lead item in the Debrief?" Nadia demands, her factual calm completely shattered.
I shrink back against the booth, startled by the volume. "I met her a few weeks ago. To help with her shop. She told me I have to let him figure it out. Not push."
Suddenly, the chaos cuts out.
Silence.
Nadia sets her coffee down slowly. Ceramic clinks against wood.
Priya stops reaching for her phone.
Liv stares at me like I just admitted to something I don't understand.
Nobody at our table speaks.
I glance between them. "What?"
Their faces stop me.
The memory hits—Wren's shop. The way Tom stood in the doorway. The way Wren looked at him when she saw us together.
He didn't bring a colleague to help his sister.
He brought me.
"Oh." I sit back against the booth. "I guess... yeah. I met his sister."
Liv reaches across the table and touches my hand again. Fingers warm.
"She's right, sweetie." Her voice is gentle. "You do have to let him figure it out."
I stare at her hand.
Then I pull mine back and sit up straighter. The booth creaks.
"But don't I get a say in this?" The words come out sharp. Urgent. "I don't want to just stand on the sidelines while he figures it out by himself."
My voice rises.
"I want to be part of it. Don't I get a say?"
The frustration is a living thing in my chest. I've spent my whole life making things happen. Planning. Executing. Controlling the variables so nothing falls apart.
Waiting means doing nothing. I don't sit still.
I hate it.
The table goes quiet again.
Nadia speaks first. Calm. Deliberate. "You do get a say."
She pauses.
"But having a say doesn't mean controlling how it ends."
Liv nods. "You each get a say in this. That's what makes it partnership."
Priya uncrosses her arms. "Your say is showing up. Being honest." She looks at me. "Letting him know how you feel—even if you don't know how you feel yet."
Liv's voice is steady. "You need to work together on this."
She pauses.
"And you're already doing it. You just don't realize it yet."
I look at my hands, my thumbs pressing hard into the knuckles.
"I'm terrified," I whisper.
Quiet settles over the table. The kind of absolute, judgment-free quiet that only exists between women who have known each other for years.
Priya smiles softly. "We know. But you're ready."
Nadia picks up her cup. "Good."
Liv squeezes my hand once. "Now you just have to decide what you're going to do about it."
I don't have an answer.
Not yet.
My phone buzzes in my bag.
The vibration is loud in the quiet.
I pull it out.
Tom
Thinking about Friday. And the portfolio layout. And you. Coffee Wednesday?
I stare at the screen.
My eyes catch on the word "you."
Priya leans over and reads it upside down. "And there it is."
I don't look up. My thumbs hover over the keyboard.
Yes.
I hit send.
When I look up, all three of them are watching me.
"What?" I say.
Nadia grins. "Nothing."
Liv smiles into her coffee cup. "Absolutely nothing."
Priya picks up her phone and finally types something into the notes app. I lean across the table and catch a glimpse of the screen before she locks it.
Phase Two: Wedding Pinterest Board.
I roll my eyes and take a sip of my latte.
It's cold now.
I drink it anyway.