Page 13 of After the Rain

"That's actually a really valuable trait. The ability to visualize three-dimensional relationships without relying on external templates—that's advanced spatial reasoning."

I found myself leaning forward, genuinely interested in his perspective. The way Ezra talked about education, about Cooper's development, made me see my son in new ways. But more than that, it made me want to keep listening to Ezra's voice, keep watching the way his eyes lit up when he discussed something he was passionate about.

"I should probably head home," Ezra said, glancing at his watch. "I have some lesson planning to catch up on."

Disappointment hit me harder than it should have. We'd been talking for over an hour, and it felt like we'd barely gotten started.

"Of course. This was really helpful. Thank you."

I reached for my wallet, but Ezra waved me off. "My suggestion, my treat."

"At least let me get the tip."

"Deal."

The casual coordination of our exit felt both natural and awkward—like we were figuring out the etiquette of whatever this relationship was becoming.

"We should do this again sometime," Ezra said as we stood. "I mean, if you have other questions about Cooper's development."

The suggestion felt like both a lifeline and a test. "I'd like that. I'm sure I'll think of more questions."

"I'm sure you will."

There was something in his smile that suggested he understood we weren't really talking about Cooper anymore.

We walked out together, but the easy conversation from inside didn't follow us onto the sidewalk. The transition from private booth to public street seemed to remind us both that we were teacher and parent, that there were boundaries.

"Your truck?" Ezra asked, stopping next to my Ford F-150.

"Yeah. That your Honda?"

"Guilty as charged. Not as practical as a truck, but it gets me where I need to go."

We stood there for a moment, both clearly reluctant to end our time together but uncertain about how to extend it.

"Well," I said finally. "Thanks again for the insights about Cooper. And the coffee."

"Thank you for taking the time. It's nice to connect with parents who are so engaged."

We shook hands goodbye, and I noticed how neither of us seemed to want to let go first. There was definitely something happening between us, though I wasn't entirely sure what.

As I watched him walk to his car, I found myself studying the way he moved with quiet confidence. When he glanced back as he got into his Honda, our eyes met briefly, and I felt that same flutter of possibility I'd been trying to ignore all afternoon.

Driving home, I replayed the afternoon's conversation, surprised by how much I'd enjoyed talking with him despite the awkward moments. There had been something genuine about Ezra that I hadn't experienced in a long time—the sense that he was actually interested in what I had to say.

But there had also been a carefulness to our interaction, like we were both aware that we were walking a line.

After Cooper's bedtime routine,I sat in my living room with a beer, ostensibly reviewing plans for the Henderson project but really processing my afternoon with Ezra. The time had passed more quickly than I'd expected, and despite the awkward moments, I found myself already looking forward to the next excuse we might have to talk.

The realization was both thrilling and terrifying.

Was I developing feelings for another man? At thirty-eight, after fifteen years of marriage to a woman? The possibility seemed absurd, but I couldn't deny the way my pulse had quickened every time Ezra smiled, or how disappointed I'd felt when our time together ended.

I thought about my marriage to Sarah, how comfortable it had been but never exciting. How we'd been good friends who'd tried to build a romance on a foundation of compatibility rather than passion. The relief I'd felt when she'd suggested divorce had probably told me everything I needed to know about what we'd had together.

But this afternoon with Ezra had felt different. Charged with possibility in a way that was both new and somehow familiar. Like discovering a room in a house I thought I knew completely.

I finished my beer and headed upstairs, more questions than answers swirling in my head. Whether what I was feeling was friendship, attraction, or something else entirely, I knew I wanted to explore it further.

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