Page 60 of Click of Fate

The kind of place where you talk slowly and think carefully. Order things with real butter.

Stella raises an eyebrow when she walks in. “This isn’t what I pictured when you said dinner.”

I shrug, holding the door for her. “You thought I’d take you somewhere with mounted antlers and IPAs on tap.”

“You do scream ‘house IPA.’”

“Not tonight.”

She doesn’t argue, just lets me guide her to a small two-top near the window.

And for a few minutes, we just… are.

We talk about Lilly. About how she’s convinced she’s part spider and might try to scale the pantry at home. About how Harper “accidentally” signed her up for a dance class but she just stood in the corner pretending to be a ninja.

We order. She gets grilled salmon with citrus glaze. I get the steak. We both ask for a glass of red, which makes her raise her eyebrows again.

“Steak and wine. So you’re pulling out all the grown-up stops tonight.”

I lean back in my chair. “Trying to make a good impression.”

The smile she fights makes me feel like I’m winning. Just a little.

But eventually, I have to go there.

“I meant it when I said I wanted to explain about Claire.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but I feel the shift in her posture. Just a little tighter. More alert.

“I figured,” she says, reaching for her wine.

“We were kids when we met. Grew up together, neighbors, best friends. She knew everything about me before I even knew how to explain it.”

“And you dated,” Stella says flatly.

“We did. College, mostly. Then we moved to downtown Chicago. My uncle was opening the second Squeaky Bum location and offered me the chance to help build it out. Claire came with me, started handling branding and media. It made sense, for a while.”

I sip my wine. It doesn’t go down as easily now.

“We talked about the future a lot. Marriage, kids, running things side by side. I always thought we’d get there, eventually.” I glance at Stella. “She didn’t want ‘eventually.’ She wanted everything the moment she wanted—and she wanted marriage immeditately..”

“And you weren’t ready?”

“I thought I was. I bought a ring.”

Her fork pauses over her plate.

“She didn’t know. I was planning a trip, something big. I thought I had time.”

“But?”

“She beat me to it. Broke up with me. Told me I waited too long and she was tired of feeling like second priority to my ambition.”

Stella says nothing, but she’s listening. I can see it in her eyes.

“She left Squeaky Bum and moved back home. We haven’t talked since. It’s been about three years. And then—boom—she shows up here. All smiles and big ideas.”

“Expansion,” Stella says quietly.

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