Chapter 2

The bell above the door chimed softly as another customer stepped in from the Nashville morning. Ella wiped her hands on the apron tied at her waist and glanced at the clock. She had cut her shifts back months ago, but the familiar rhythm of the small independent shop still felt like home in a way few other places did. The scent of fresh espresso and warm pastries hung in the air, and the low murmur of conversations blended with the occasional hiss of the steam wand.

She liked the steadiness of it. Even with Serge providing the safety net she had longed for, she had kept a few shifts. It gave her something of her own — a small pocket of independence that balanced the more feminine, dependent role she had slipped into so gratefully with him. The credit card he had added her to covered most things without her ever feeling like she had to ask. Clothes, the little self-care things she enjoyed, even things for their apartment. She cooked and cleaned because she liked the way it made their home feel, not because she had to. Still, there was comfort in earning something, however modest.

Meagan emerged from the back with a fresh tray of mugs, her red hair pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. At twenty-eight she was only a year younger than Ella, and in the two months since she had started they had fallen into an easy rhythm together. Something about the way Meagan moved — quietly capable, a little guarded at first — had drawn Ella in. They clicked in that rare, unforced way that sometimes happens between women who recognize pieces of themselves in each other.

“Busy already,” Meagan said, setting the tray down. Her blue eyes flicked toward the small line forming at the counter. She had the lean, fit build of someone who had once been a serious swimmer; it still showed in the way she carried herself, even after years away from the pool. She had stopped competing at nineteen, and she still mentioned it the way people mention a language they used to be fluent in—lately she’d been talking about finding a masters club, getting back in the water for no reason other than that she missed the person she was in it.