I’m at a coffee shop tucked between a bookstore and a wine bar on Columbus Avenue and it feels like what home should be. Warm. Lived-in. Full of people having conversations that matter.
I've been coming here for three weeks. Ever since I realized Elena might decide to walk past on her way to somewhere that isn't me.
Pathetic. Marcus would have a field day if he knew.
But I'm here anyway. Table in the back corner. Laptop open to quarterly reports I'm not reading. My coffee goes cold while I pretend I'm not waiting.
The bell above the door chimes and Elena walks in.
My heart stops, then remembers to beat again.
She's in business casual—tailored pants, silk blouse, hair pulled back in a way that means she's been in meetings all morning.
And she's not alone.
A woman follows behind her,
