Page 61 of Ashes of Us
"But it didn't."
"No. It didn't." He paused. "When did you know?"
I thought about the pool. About seeing Liam and feeling my entire world tilt sideways. About coming home and texting Danielmiss you toowhen I wasn't sure I meant it.
But that wasn't entirely fair, was it? I had cared, and Ididcare. I liked his company, the way he made me laugh, how he always remembered to bring me coffee on his way to my bakery. I liked the way he folded his socks into neat pairs and how he'd text me pictures of dogs he saw on calls. All good, real things.
It just wasn't enough. Something essential was missing, and I didn't know how to make it appear.
"I think I've known for a while," I admitted. "I just didn't want to admit it."
"Yeah." He nodded, like that made sense. "I get that. It's easier to keep going than to stop and ask if you actually want to be going in the first place."
The waiter appeared with the calamari neither of us had confirmed we wanted. Set it down between us with a cheerful "Enjoy!" that felt wildly out of place. We both stared at it.
"Should we…” I gestured at the plate.
"Might as well." Daniel picked up a fork. "Seems like a waste to let it go cold just because we're breaking up."
I laughed. Of course he'd be practical about this. That was Daniel. Steady, reasonable, and always making the hard stuff easier just by being himself.
We ate in silence for a minute, like we were still just two people having dinner.
"So," he said finally, setting down his fork. "Portland. Six weeks. Which means we should probably..." He made a vague gesture.
"Make this official?"
"Yeah." He wiped his hands on his napkin. "I don't want this to be weird. We work in the same town, we're going to run into each other. And I'd like to think we can still be.. I don't know. Friends? Eventually?"
"I'd like that too."
"Good." He picked up his wine glass, held it up slightly. "To being mature adults who can have an amicable breakup over overpriced Italian food?"
I picked up mine, clinked it against his. "To being mature adults."
We both drank.
"You know," Daniel said, leaning back against the booth, "you deserve someone who makes you feel more than comfortable."
I looked up.
His expression was kind. Knowing, but not accusatory. "I don't know what that looks like for you. Maybe you don't either yet. But you should have it. Whatever it is you're actually looking for."
My throat felt tight. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being... this. About all of this."
He smiled. "What, mature and emotionally healthy? I'm an EMT, Piper. I've seen what happens when people don't communicate. Figured I should at least try to practice what I preach."
We finished the calamari, ordered entrees we barely touched. When we were done, we split the check down the middle—his insistence, even though I offered to cover it. The waiter probably thought we were the most depressing date he'd served all night.
Outside, the October air was cold enough to see our breath. The parking lot was half-empty now, the dinner rush winding down. Daniel walked me to my car, hands shoved in his pockets.
"So," he said when we reached my door. "This is it, I guess."
"Yeah." I unlocked the car but didn't get in. "Good luck in Portland. Really. I hope it's everything you want."
