Page 6 of Take Two

“That’s reassuring,” he says. “I was worried I’d accidentally ordered something embarrassing.”

A laugh slips out before I can stop it, short and genuine. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You’ve clearly never watched a grown man order a strawberry daiquiri with extra whipped cream.”

“Fair point,” I reply, and the corner of his mouth lifts.

My God, he smiled. His first smile. Small, not entirely committed, but real. It changes his whole face when it arrives, loosening something in the set of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes. I didn’t know I need to witness it, but the wait for it was absolutely worth it.

I find myself smiling back before I’ve made any conscious decision to do so.

“Tough day?” I ask.

His laugh is quiet this time. It carries more exhaustion than amusement, more recognition than humor. “That obvious?”

I glance at the tie hanging over his shoulder and bite back a full grin.

“You look like you lost an argument with your suit.” I keep my expression mostly neutral.

He glances over his shoulder at the wayward tie, then exhales another tired laugh, the sound a little rougher around the edges than the first one.

“That’s probably the nicest thing anybody has said to me all day,” he replies with a shrug.

I frown at that. One look at this man and nice things are all I can produce. Whoever has been making his day difficult has a lot to answer for. “Your day was worse than I thought.”

“You have no idea.” He shakes his head once.

Something flickers across his face for a moment. Exhaustion, yes, but this is something else weighing heavily on him. Whatever it is, he pushes it back almost immediately, smoothing it over with the practiced ease of someone who has learned to push it down and away from prying eyes.

I recognize the move. I’ve been doing it myself all evening.

“Let me guess,” he says, redirecting his attention toward me with an expression that sharpens slightly. “You’re one of those annoyingly optimistic people.”

I arch a brow and purse my lips. “Not even close.”

“No?” he asks, studying me with a hint of skepticism.

“No.” I give him my full attention, which feels surprisingly easy to do.

He looks at me for a moment, really looks, the way people rarely bother with strangers. It’s the kind of look that takes inventory. He considers me, like he’s turning a puzzle over in his hands to find the edge pieces.

“Bad day?” he asks.

I swirl what remains of my ice around the bottom of the glass. “Something like that.”

His gaze follows the movement before returning to my face. “Work?”

“Work,” I confirm, keeping it deliberately simple.

He nods slowly. “Mine too.”

I smile. “That’s convenient.”

“What’s convenient?” he asks, brows pulling together slightly.

I point between the two of us. “If we keep everything vague, neither of us has to explain anything.”

That earns me a genuine laugh, fuller than the ones before it, igniting something warm in the middle of my chest before I can do anything about it.