I walk to my car feeling lighter than I have in weeks. The path ahead isn't perfectly clear yet, but for the first time in a long time, I'm excited to see where it leads.
The coffee shop bustles with mid-morning activity, laptops open on wooden tables, the hiss of the espresso machine occasionally rising above conversations.
I spot Nate immediately—he sits in the corner, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. An attempt at anonymity in a public place. My stomach flips as I weave between tables toward him.
He looks up, his sweet eyes finding mine across the room. He smiles, and my heart does the same stupid little stutter it always does.
"Hey," he says, rising slightly as I approach. He's wearing a gray T-shirt, dark jeans, and those motorcycle boots I recognize from our first night together. The memory makes me tingle.
"Hi." I slide into the chair across from him, setting my purse on the floor. "Have you been waiting long?"
"Just got here." He pushes a ceramic mug toward me. "I ordered for you. Oat milk latte, right?"
The fact that he remembers this tiny detail about me shouldn't feel significant. But it does.
"Thanks." I wrap my hands around the warm mug, needing something to do with them before they begin shaking with nerves. "How are you?"
"Good. Really good, actually." He leans forward, elbows on the table. "But more importantly, how are you? Did you make a decision about the job?"
I take a sip of my latte, buying time. "I did. I accepted. I start in a little less than two weeks."
His face breaks into a genuine smile. "That's fantastic, Elena. Congratulations."
"You think so?" I search his expression for any hint of disappointment.
"Absolutely. The Steel is getting one hell of a psychologist." He sits back, still smiling. "And your dad? How'd he take it?"
"Better than I expected." I trace the rim of my mug with one finger. "He was disappointed at first, but we talked it through. He gets why I need to do this."
Nate nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm glad. That's important."
A moment of silence stretches between us, charged with all the things we've yet to say. A barista calls out an order. Someone laughs at a nearby table. Nate's knee bumps mine under the table, perhaps accidentally but maybe not.
"So," he says finally. "Is this where we pretend to be casual acquaintances having coffee? Or can we talk about what happens now?"
The directness makes me smile. "I thought small talk was a necessary evil."
"We’re way beyond that." His voice drops lower and he winks at me.
I take a deep breath, willing myself to slow down. "I told my dad I was leaving because I need my own identity. That's true, but it's not the whole truth."
"What's the rest?"
"You. Us." I meet his eyes steadily. "What happened between us made me realize I need clearer boundaries. But it also made me question if I was hiding behind my career, using professional ethics as a shield against actually connecting with someone."
His eyebrows lift slightly. "And what did you decide?"
"That I want both. My career and..." I hesitate. "And whatever this could be between us."
Nate looks directly into my eyes. "I want that too. More than I've wanted anything in a long time."
"But it has to be different this time." I lean forward, intent. "No sneaking around. No power imbalance. No pushing each other away when things get difficult."
"Agreed." He nods seriously. "Complete transparency."
"And I want it to be more than just physical." I feel myself blush. "That part is... well, it's obviously not a problem for us."
His lips twitch. "Definitely not a problem."
