Page 16 of Kisses and Paperclips

Not right away.

Her gaze flicked down to her phone, lips parting slightly, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. And then I felt it—the shift. Small, but there. The way her body tensed, the way her shoulders squared just a little too much.

She was already leaving.

I just hadn’t realized it yet.

The silence stretched, thick enough to hold the weight of something unspoken. Something neither of us wanted to name.

Finally, she lifted her gaze, meeting mine with an expression I couldn’t quite read. And maybe that was the problem. Up until now, I thought I had her figured out. The quick wit, the teasing, the push and pull of a woman who knew exactly how to keep a man at arm’s length.

But right now?

She wasn’t teasing. She wasn’t pushing.

She was slipping.

“I had a great time.”

Even. Polite. But too smooth. Too rehearsed.

Like she was already folding the night away into some compartment in her mind, tucking it into a place where it wouldn’t touch her again.

I let out a slow breath, dragging a hand over my jaw.

She hesitated. A fraction of a second too long.

And that’s all it took.

She reached for her bag, wrapping her fingers around the strap like it was some kind of tether.

“It was nice meeting you Julien.”

Without hesitation or a second glance, I watched her turn and slip past the tables and right through the restaurant doors. She walked like she hadn’t just spent the last few hours unraveling something inside me I didn’t even know was wound too tight.

I reached for my glass, letting the ice hit my lips before I took a slow sip.

What the hell just happened?

I didn’t move from my spot. I’m not chasing her. I sat there, eyes tracking her through the floor-to-ceiling windows as she stepped into the lobby, pacing, phone pressed to her ear. My own personal view of her.

She was stranded.

I could see it in the way she moved—sharper now, more tense. The way she gripped her bag like she was bracing herself. Like she needed something to hold on to.

I thought maybe she was calling another man. Maybe she had someone waiting outside, some ride she forgot to mention.

But she wasn’t walking toward a car.

She was walking in circles.

Her fingers hovered over the phone screen, her brows pulling together, her mouth moving in quiet frustration before she muttered something under her breath and called again.

She was alone.

And I didn’t know why the hell that got to me.

I tried to force my eyes away. I focused on the drink in my hand and the fact that she had walked away. She made her choice.

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