Page 58 of Seas the Dating Coach

“Bro.” Maxwell rubs his forehead, embarrassed for me. “You fell right into that.”

A quick glance around the room proves he’s right. Every librarian is holding back a smile. Letitia even has her hand splayed over her heart.

I blink, quickly trying to recalibrate.

“I like when they get feisty,” Trudy stage-whispers to Patricia. “Shows that they care.”

“This one’s truly a goner,” Patricia says, like I’m not standing at the other end of the table. “Gary skated along while Atticus ran this morning, chatting as they do sometimes, and guess who was thinking about taking on some accounting side projects in addition to his corporate job? I’ll give you a hint: Atticus. And wouldn’t you know his plans to meet his potential client were at the exact same place and exact same time as our last-minute meeting about the library fundraiser.”

I barely keep from muttering “Small towns” like a curse word. I’m used to my life of generalized anonymity, of people knowing me from work and knowing about professional accolades but not paying attention to my personal life.

This is next-level busybody behavior.

But if I’m honest, it doesn’t seem like the worst thing to be known, for people to care what happens to you. There’s not a warm and fuzzy sense of belonging when you are born to continue a business legacy—you’re either a cog in the machine, or you’re a problem. Actually belonging somewhere where people genuinely care about you…

I don’t even know what a life like that would look like.

My heartbeat slams against my chin, but I slide my hands into my pockets, finally in control of my outward appearance. I’m calm. Unaffected. For all they know, this is merely a coincidence.

“That’s certainly an interesting theory,” I say with my best smile. “But this is the only business open on Sundays—unless you’d rather have this meeting in Dotty’s small produce aisle.”

Patricia tsks, shaking her head.

“Maybe it is just a coincidence.” Letitia scribbles something on her notepad, ever the peacemaker.

“Good thing,” Trudy agrees, “since Atticus’s hand droppedreal lowon Vivian’s back as he led her away.”

My brain knows it’s bait, but the signal doesn’t get to my tense muscles quick enough. My flinch might as well be a confetti cannon shooting paper hearts embossed withFinn + Vivian 4eva!

Maxwell laughs at my tight expression. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s just as transparent about her feelings as you are. You should be happy. There’s nothing worse than pining for someone and having them not like you.”

I don’t even have time to process Maxwell’s words because the conversation careens on.

Trudy nearly launches herself over the table. “Like the way Atticus has been fawning over Amanda Ratchack since she returned from Sweden?” She snorts. “That’llneverwork out.”

“I don’t know,” Letitia muses. “Stranger things have happened.”

“We should ask Camille if she’s dreamt about either of them,” Patricia adds.

My puzzled expression must show, like every other emotion I seem to be having, since these people are reading me like a large-print book.

“Camille is the middle school art teacher who’s also a touch psychic. She ‘sees’ people together in her dreams, and thenthey almost always end up coupling off. She’s accurately paired off most of the monogamous couples in Wilks Beach, including Gary and me.” Patricia taps her chin, her gaze narrowing on me again. “Come to think of it, Camille said she saw Vivian with a man wearing a suit, but she could never get a good look at his face.”

All eyes swing to me again. I’d forgone my suit vest today in an attempt to look more casual, but my professional attire revolves around suit pieces—though I rarely wear a jacket.

A collective gasp goes through the room.

“Finn could be him! The faceless man!” Trudy shouts, pointing like a lunatic.

“Okay.” I spread my hands in front of my rioting chest. “This meeting has gotten way off topic. Can we focus on the fundraiser, please?”

“I agree.” Maxwell leans onto his thumbs again. “The offshore winds are making choice waves. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

Patricia and Trudy grumble, but Letitia just gives me a small smile. “I think it’d be nice if it was you.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” I say evenly, though it feels like fizzy bubbles are shooting down my arms.

“Well, before youso rudelyshot us down, I was about to tell you that the consensus of our meeting was that we all like you and Vivian together.” Patricia adds with a huff.

---