Page 17 of Knot the Last Chapter

You want to meet?

It takes her longer this time.

Dots. Gone. Dots again.

I don’t know. You’re still a stranger. You could be an axe murderer.

Disappointment and amusement battle for my attention.

I’m not. But I understand. You set the rules.

I wait. Let her breathe. I want her to say yes, but not because I pushed.

Finally:Where?

My throat tightens.

Blossom Bridge. At the edge of the park near the bridge. It’s public. Safe. No pressure. One week from today. Just… if you want to.

Those three little dots tease me and then comes her reply:Okay.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I stare out at the window. The trees lining the edge of the client’s property are already dusted with pink, the early bloomers straining toward the sun.

A week.

Seven days to imagine her a little deeper. To dream a little harder.

And maybe—just maybe—to see her walk across that bridge and finally make this whole thing real.

Chapter ten

Lila

I’m still staring at my phone when Jake knocks once and lets himself in, like always.

“Hey, trouble.” His voice booms just a little too loud for my nerves right now. “Brought you coffee. Figured you could use an upgrade from Mom’s chamomile conspiracy.”

I glance up, grateful and slightly dazed. “You’re a saint.”

“Don’t spread it around.” He sets the to-go cup in front of me and narrows his eyes. “You look like you’re having an existential crisis.”

I snort, wrapping both hands around the warm cup. “Just minor. Small existential crisis. Like, travel-sized.”

“Mm-hmm.” He drops into the chair across from me, studying my face the way only a big brother can. “You’re flushed.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“It’s… complicated.”

Jake leans back and folds his arms across his chest, looking far too much like Dad in moments like this. He’s always been sturdy. Solid. The one who handled the hard calls after Dadpassed, who made sure Mom didn’t have to fight the bank or the insurance company alone. Five years older, forever in big brother mode. But never overbearing. Never condescending.

“Well, complicated seems to be the theme for you lately.”

I sigh, sinking deeper into the kitchen chair. “It’s... a guy.”

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