Page 72 of Fractured Loyalties
Lydia gives a single nod and leaves.
I stand, stretch the tightness from my shoulders, and move to the small closet in the back of the office. There’s a charcoal suit pressed and ready. Nothing memorable. Dark. Quiet. Sharp enough to belong, soft enough to vanish.
I peel off my shirt and change without looking in the mirror. By the time I’ve buttoned the last cuff, I’m no longer the man from Mara’s morning. I’m whatever I need to be for the next hour.
Outside, the sun is down. The streetlights are the only color left in the city. I drive to the dinner location with no radio, no sound but my own breath.
It’s a corner building—one of those upscale restaurants that tries too hard. Glass panels, exposed beams, industrial lighting tangled with fairy string. The kind of place where people come to be noticed by pretending they don’t care.
I don’t park out front.
I take a side street, then double back on foot and find a spot two buildings over. A florist’s shop closed for the evening gives me cover. A recessed brick alcove shields my side angle while giving me a perfect line of sight through the wide windows.
Inside, I see movement. Laughter. Glasses raised. Mara hasn’t arrived yet, but the table is being set. Alec’s already there. He leans against the wall like he owns the space. Celeste is beside him, animated and effortless.
I watch.
I don’t move.
Mara will come. She’ll walk in like nothing has happened.
And I’ll be here.
Unseen. But always seeing.
Chapter 15 – Mara - The Dinner
The restaurant smells like basil, wine, and candle smoke trying too hard to be warm.
I step inside like I’m not made of tension.
Like there wasn’t a note waiting on my desk this morning. Like Elias didn’t try to talk me out of coming here.
Celeste waves me over. Her smile is real, but her eyes move quickly, checking me like she’s counting vertebrae.
I reach the table and pull out a chair. The others greet me like nothing’s off. Small talk. Laugh lines. Glasses are already half full.
Alec leans back in his seat. “You made it.”
“Barely,” I say, forcing a small grin.
“We were about to order drinks,” Celeste says, handing me a menu. “Want anything?”
“Club soda. Lime.”
“Not drinking?” Alec arches a brow.
“Headache,” I lie.
He nods, easy. No pressure. Still, I feel like I’m under lights.
The room is all exposed brick and string lights. Every wall is a window. Every seat faces somewhere vulnerable. I sit where my back’s against a corner beam. I can see the entrance, the servers, the mirrors angled behind the bar.
There are eight of us total. Admin, tech, Celeste, Alec, and a few from the counseling wing. Normal enough. But my skin itches like there’s something else here. Like static just under my pulse.
Alec starts talking about a new software integration project, and someone chimes in about shifting appointment load across departments. The words blur. I sip my club soda like it’s a sedative.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I don’t look. But I know it’s him.
