I’m about to agree—until I see his expression shift, eyes widening dramatically.
“Well, well, well.”
“Aw, fuck,” I mutter, already tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling in defeat.
I don’t bother turning around.
I know that voice.
The sharp click of her heels ring in my ears.
“What do we have here?” Jen says with mock curiosity as her handbag lands on the table.
I give her a look. “Hi, Jen.”
She repeats it back to me in the most obnoxious tone imaginable. “‘Hi, Jen.’ That’s what I get? Is that how you greet your best friend?”
She doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, she gestures impatiently. “Scoot over.”
I start to move.
“Not you,” she says, flicking her fingers at me. “Him. We’re going to have a little chat, and I don’t want him to be able to run.”
Chance blows out a slow breath but obediently slides toward the window. He’s suddenly very interested in his coffee.
“Jen,” I groan. “This really isn’t the time.”
“It isexactlythe time,” she says, taking my coffee and sipping it. “This’ll be quick. Painless. Mostly.”
I sigh. “What are you even doing here?”
She rolls her eyes. “In case you forgot, I work down here too. I was grabbing a coffee and a breakfast sandwich before heading in.” She looks me over, taking in my casual attire, then narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you not in work clothes? Is that a Boston shirt?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat and throw Chance an apologetic look. There’s no stopping this trainwreck.
Jen's eyes bounce between us. Then she elbows him. “Wait—do youlivedown here? You do, don’t you?” Then she gasps, “Holy shit. You had a sleepover!”
I rub my hands down my face. “Ohmigod.”
She raises her eyebrows, waiting. There's no sense in lying. She'll know.
“Yes. There was a sleepover.”
I peer over at Chance. He normally carries himself like a man who’s faced down mobsters without flinching. Because he has. But right now? He looks like he’s hoping to disappear into the booth and become part of the upholstery.
To be fair, I feel the same.
Then Jen lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a squeal and a full-body shriek. Half the restaurant turns to look.
Chance visibly flinches.
I groan.
“I’m so happy right now!” Jen practically shouts. “This is the best thing ever.”
She looks at me, giddy. “It’s aboutdamn time.”
“Wait, you’re not—” I start.