chapter 7
A list of moments. The way he’d laughed when I spilled coffee on his startup pitch deck. The night he’d held me after my grandma died. The first time Lola had called him at 2 a.m. and he’d left without a second thought.
The list grew longer than I expected—a tapestry of joy and hurt woven together so tightly I’d never been able to untangle it.
My phone buzzed again. Another message from Kobe. I talked to Lola. She feels terrible about dinner. She said she’ll apologize to you tomorrow.
I scoffed. Apologies had never fixed anything. Not the missed anniversaries, not the nights he’d canceled plans to help Lola, not the way he’d looked at me like I was overreacting every time I asked for a little more of his attention.
I closed the document and grabbed my jacket. “I’m going for a walk,” I whispered to Sophie, even though she was sound asleep.
The rain was colder than I’d anticipated, soaking through my hair as I walked. The city was quiet, streetlights casting golden halos on the wet pavement.
I found myself heading toward the coffee shop where Kobe and I had first talked. It was still open, a warm glow spilling from its windows. The barista recognized me. We’d been regulars here during Kobe’s startup days.
“The usual?” she asked, smiling.
“A vanilla latte, extra foam.”
Kobe had always teased me for being basic, but he’d always ordered it for me anyway.
“Just a black coffee, please,” I said. Something about letting go meant letting go of the little things too.