Page 14 of Outspoken Hearts
"Let me guess—owned by the Adams family?"
I laugh. "No, the O'Malleys. Same family five generations later."
Megan, our server who's known me since childhood, approaches.
"James Adams. Haven't seen you in a while."
"Been busy. How's your dad?"
"Stubborn as ever." She glances curiously at Eva. "Who's your friend?"
After introductions and ordering drinks, Eva says, "So this is what it's like being out with Meadowbrook royalty."
I wince. "Hardly royalty. Just been here a long time."
"Sorry, that came out wrong."
"It's fine. Sometimes I wish I could just be James. Not James Adams, community leader, motivational speaker, descendant of founders."
"The curse of being known," she nods. "Or known for a specific version of yourself."
"Exactly. You get it."
"More than you might think. In my last job, I was labeled 'difficult' for challenging bad design decisions."
Over burgers, our conversation flows from work to personal histories. I tell her about taking over my household at eighteen when my mother got sick.
"That explains why everyone sees you as the steady problem-solver," she observes.
When I ask about her, she explains she moved to Meadowbrook by chance, taking over a friend's lease.
"Just like that? You moved to a town where you knew no one?"
"I'm impulsive about big decisions. It's small ones that paralyze me."
"We're opposites then. I analyze major decisions to death but know exactly what I want in small things."
"Maybe that's why we work well together," she meets my eyes. "Balance."
Walking back to our cars, Eva promises, "Next time's on me."
Next time. The promise warms me more than it should.
"I had a really good time," she says as we reach her car.
"Thank you for coming. And for your brilliant work."
"We make a good team."
As I watch her drive away, I feel an unfamiliar lightness—anticipation rather than obligation when thinking about our next meeting.
For the first time in years, I'm not just going through motions. I'm feeling the uncertainty, connection, and possibility.
And for now, that's enough.
CHAPTER SIX
I tap my pen nervously, checking the time. Ten minutes until our meeting. James suggested his place (more space, fewer distractions). Logical reasons that shouldn't make my stomach twist, but here I am, checking my appearance again.
