Gary took a sip of his drink and immediately regretted it.

The cold hit his tooth like a personal attack. He winced so hard his vision sparkled.

“Okay,” he said, setting the glass down. “No more cold things.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re drinking beer.”

“Yes,” Gary said. “But I was hoping my mouth wouldn’t notice.”

She laughed. “You’re terrible at self-care.”

“I prefer to think of it as commitment to bad habits.”

Despite the pain, Gary found himself relaxing. Talking to her was easy. She asked questions that weren’t invasive but weren’t shallow either. Work. The pub. Why she’d moved to the area.

When she asked about him, he hesitated.

“I work,” he said vaguely.

She smiled. “That’s a bold statement.”

“I like to keep things mysterious.”

She rolled her eyes, amused. “You’re very avoidant.”

Gary shrugged carefully. “Only when things hurt.”

That earned him a look. A thoughtful one.

“Still,” she said, “you’re handling this better than most people.”

Gary blinked. “I am?”

“Most people panic,” she replied. “You’re… coping.”

That might have been the nicest thing anyone had said to him all night.

Let the moment deepen → Page 31

Self-sabotage with another joke → Page 33