Page 33 of Veil

“Spencer,” the barista says.

Spencer reaches around me, grabbing two cups off the counter. He nods, raising one in what I guess is a mock salute. “Good to see you.”

My brows pinch in annoyance. “Uh, yeah… you too.”

Stepping around him, I make my way over to the table in the corner where Heather is waiting.

I set our coffees on the table and take a seat across from her.

“Who was the hottie?” she asks, bringing the cup to her lips.

“Spencer.”

She raises her brows. “The guy who ghosted you?”

“Yeah.” I make a sour face as I reach for my cup. “That was super awkward.”

“What did he say?”

“Sorry I never called,” I mock, rolling my eyes, and she laughs.

“How was your date last night?” I ask, propping an elbow on the table and tucking my fist under my chin.

Heather smiles, eyes bright. “It was perfect. We went to that little Italian restaurant, Antonio’s. There was a quartet set up in front of the fountain, so we sat outside on the patio and watched the show.”

“That sounds nice.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip.

“It was really nice. Jesse is….”

“Nice?” I grin.

“Yes.” She snickers. “You were right.”

“About?”

“I’m not broken.” She turns her head to stare out the large window overlooking the sidewalk, but I don’t miss the somber expression on her face. “Or maybe I am. I shouldn’t like him this much after one date.”

“Don’t do that,” I chide softly.

She turns her face to me, brows pinched. “What?”

Crossing my forearms on the edge of the table, I lean forward. “Don’t downplay your feelings. You’re afraid.”

“Terrified,” she admits, sinking back in her chair. “I feel too much already. I don’t want to get hurt.”

“Heather.” I reach across the table and cover her hand with mine. “You can’t push him away because you’re afraid of getting hurt. I know it’s hard to let people in, but you have me now, and if anyone hurts you, I’ll kick their ass.” I grin, prompting her to laugh. “Is he worth the trouble?” I ask.

“Ugh.” She drops her head back. “Yes.”

“Good,” I chirp.

Pushing back from the table, I get to my feet and grab my coffee. “Let’s head back. I have some adulting to do before my interview tomorrow.”

On the way back, Heather gives me a mock interview, drilling me with ridiculous questions that I’m certain will not be asked. By the time we walk through the gate, we’re both laughing.

A black box is leaning against the outside door. “What’s that?” she asks as she picks up her pace. “Is that another flower delivery?”

Just like the one before, the box is long and slim. Inside is a blue rose.

---