Gary decided light was good.

“So,” he said, leaning back slightly, “how does one end up tending bar when they’re fully qualified to judge my life choices professionally?”

She smiled. “Temporary gig. Pays the bills. Less screaming than dentistry.”

“Debatable,” Gary said. “Have you met pub customers?”

She laughed. “Fair point.”

The conversation flowed more easily now. Work stories. Bad customers. Awkward moments neither of them wanted to relive in detail. Gary found himself enjoying this—genuinely enjoying it—despite the steady ache in his jaw.

For a while, he even forgot about the tooth.

Then the food arrived.

The smell alone made his mouth water, which was unfortunate given the circumstances. Gary took a careful bite, testing the limits. Soft. Manageable.

Relief washed over him.

“Success,” he said quietly.

She smiled. “Told you we’d work around it.”

They ate slowly, talking between bites. Gary kept his movements measured, his enthusiasm restrained. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was working.

Still, the pain crept back as the meal went on. Subtle at first. Then more insistent. Gary paused, fork hovering, breathing through his nose.

She noticed.

“You’re hurting,” she said gently.

“Yeah,” Gary admitted. “But I’m okay.”

She studied him for a moment. “You don’t have to pretend.”

Gary exhaled.

This was the moment. Stay light and risk pushing through. Or acknowledge the reality and see where that led.

Downplay it and keep eating → Page 50

Admit it’s getting worse → Page 49