Page 78 of The Write Choice

I arch my eyebrow at her. “She told you about the books she reads?”

“Oh, no. Never.” She shakes her head vehemently. “But I worked here all through high school. Mom was always the one to ring her up, but I figured it out eventually.” Her face lights up as if something just occurred to her. “Is it true her and Coach are finally a thing?” Her wide, blue eyes bounce quickly back and forth between Daniel and me.

“Finally?” I ask, just as Daniel says, “Yes.”

“Should you be talking about teachers’ personal lives and reading habits with former students?” I ask him.

“Probably not.” He dips his chin to give Aimee a pointed look.

“I’m an adult now. It’s fine,” she insists. We both continue to stare at her in silence. When she realizes she’s not getting any more gossip out of us, she sighs, resigned. “Would you like anything to drink, Katie?”

“Just black coffee, please.”

“Oh good. That’s way easier than Mr. Evans’ order,” she says as she pours me coffee in a mug and brings it over. “On the house,” she says as I reach for my wallet. Having no more customers, she bounces past me to the front of the shop. I get up to put a five-dollar bill in the tip jar to compensate, then sit back down, cupping the warm mug with my hands and resting my feet on the bottom rung of the chair. I’m effectively curling into the warmth of the shop and the coffee. It feels good after the emotionally draining days I’ve had.

Daniel drops the pen he’s been holding, then leans back in his chair. “How are the Conleys?”

“Good.” I respond automatically, but Daniel has known me for a long time. He crosses his arms and waits, his gray-blue eyes soft.

“Really. We’re good,” I insist.

“Pole dancing was as effective as couples therapy, then?” he teases.

My face flames at the memory of what happened after we got home that night. Daniel smirks. His damn writer brain doesn’t miss anything.

I trace my finger along the spine of one of my books. “It ended up being good for us, I think.”

He’s still smiling to himself, but he nods. “Glad to hear it.”

We sit in awkward silence for a minute. I sip my coffee for something to do, turning my attention to the mismatched tables in the café, noting how they somehow all look like they belong here, even though not one of them is the same as another.

Daniel leans forward in his chair, his forearms resting against the table. “Brandon is like a brother to me. You know that. But that makes you my de facto sister-in-law, Katie. I care about you, too.”

I’ve always liked Daniel. He was a little lost when I met him, but he has always been genuine, and now is no exception. He doesn’t need anything from me, and he’s not after any information. He’s not even looking out for Brandon right now. He simply wants me to be okay.

My gaze falls slowly to my hands, which are clasped on the table in front of me. I’m surprised when my inhale is a little shaky. “How did you know you wanted to stay here?” My voice is quiet and unsure, but somehow, I know he’ll have the answer I’m looking for.

“Mac was here,” he says simply. “It was the easiest decision I’ve ever made.”

“She could have come back with you,” I suggest, though I know she probably wouldn’t have.

Daniel shakes his head, confirming my suspicion. “This is her home. She has roots here.” He pushes back away from the table and runs a hand through his hair. A lock of it falls over his forehead. “I don’t really think I’ve ever had roots anywhere.” He pauses, then smiles softly. “Until now.”

He does have roots here. It’s a quiet realization, but I see it clearly. Even if that small conversation with Aimee a few minutes ago didn’t prove it, his demeanor would. He seems settled, relaxed. Where there used to be doubt and chaos brewing, now there’s contentment. Happiness. Belonging.

I chew on the corner of my lip. “Didn’t you miss New York?”

“A little, at first.” He lets out a breath through pursed lips, looking skyward. “But I think you and I both know there wasn’t anything left there for me. Not really.”

I nod, falling silent. I grip my coffee mug again, taking another slow sip. Daniel tilts his head, watching me. I carefully set the mug down on the table and press my palms flat against it, letting the cold tabletop ground me.

“Do you miss New York?” he asks.

“I thought I did.” I give him a sad smile. “But I think maybe what I really missed was who I was when we were there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was fun, you know? And then I was head-over-heels in love and a new mom at the same time. Now…” I trail off and shrug.