A customer comes in, and Dani maneuvers around me to check in with them. Meg’s smile slips for a half second. But she hitches it back up, and if I hadn’t been watching so closely, I probably would’ve missed it. I hop down from my stool, taking the brownies and placing them on the counter before steering Meg by the elbow to the back room.

“Am I allowed back here?” she whispers.

“Are you really working next door?”

“I am?” It sounds like a question, and my stomach clenches in pity for her.

“Relax. I only meant that if you are, you can be back here. Dani is a silent partner of the coffee shop. She’s technically your boss.”

Meg’s lips form a quiet “Oh.” She looks around, her hands fidgeting with her striped T-shirt dress. I try not to notice how well-shaped her legs are. I fail. She turns to face me, skirt flaring mid-thigh. I blink. Twice.

“Dani is super nice, so that’s great.”

“She’s the best,” I agree.

“This is all happening very fast. I’m not usually this impulsive,” she admits. “The opposite, actually. But I met my great-grandma the other day, right after I first met you”—she gives me a little smile before continuing—“and I love her. Is it crazy to love someone you’ve met only once? And soon I’m going to meet my uncle. I have an uncle!” She full on grins now, self-deprecating. “I’m rambling.”

“You are.”

“It must be you. You unsettle me. All I do is ramble around you.”

“I’m honored.”

She presses her lips together. “I know you didn’t mean for me to hear whatever that was … but if you meant it—or even if you didn’t—I would be interested in talking church trauma some time. Wow.” She shakes her head. “You’re right. That sounds terrible.”

“Worst hangout ever.”

“For real. But I can offer brownies.”

I don’t know why I say it. I don’t know if it’s her (adorable) rambling or the glimpse of her legs or her complete lack of self-awareness or that for the first time I do want to talk about my issues, not even for my sake, but maybe for hers …

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Really? Already. Um…”

“Not the trauma talk,” I rush to clarify. “For something else.”

She tucks a section of black hair behind her ear. “Oh. Okay. I have training early all week, but Maria said I’d be done before the lunchtime rush.”

“I have a canoe tour at nine but should be done around one. Meet you here?”

“Sure. I’ll bring sandwiches.”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m asking about?”

She flushes. “Right. Yes. I’m an idiot.”