Page 103 of A Taste of Vanilla

“Great,” I say.

“Good,” he says.

“Perfect.”

“Yes.”

I look at the ground.

Marley picks up the bag Warren gave her and her coffee. “I’m going to sit at the table in the back before I say something that damages us all permanently.”

She walks back and Oliver follows.

And we’re alone.

Not truly alone. Marley and Oliver are just yards from us.

But it feels like it’s just us.

Warren stands near the cooling rack, sleeves down, bun tootight, his tattoos hidden and face controlled as ever. A man I’ve seen completely undone now fully back together.

“I really didn’t know,” I say, my voice low.

“I know. I didn’t either.”

I nod.

He glances to the back where Marley and Oliver are speaking in hushed voices, and then back at me.

“I’m sorry.”

It surprises me. “For?”

“For making things harder with your friend.”

The directness of his words hits me.

“I should have asked your name.”

“I technically gave you one.”

“I knew it wasn’t your real name.” He shrugs with something that can almost,almostbe called a smirk.

My brows furrow. “What?”

“Oliver did not seem pleased you used it.”

My lips thin.

“But you were clear about what you wanted.”

Silence settles between us as my cheeks heat.

“Well, we’re adults. And we can survive awkwardness.”

His chin lifts. “Yeah.”

“We can be normal.”