Page 129 of Matchmaking On The Menu

So I leave. Not because I don’t want to see, but because I do. And I’m not sure I can handle it all at once.

The air outside feels cooler against my skin, and I stop on the library steps, my body lagging slightly behind the moment my life apparently changed. Which feels dramatic, but also accurate. Ten minutes ago, it was still mine. Mine to tweak and stress over and obsessively reread at two in the morning. Now, it belongs to everyone else.

I start walking toward the diner, my feet moving automatically while my brain continues short-circuiting in the background. People are reading it. Right now. Actual people. Voluntarily. And Grandma is on the front page looking like the patron saint of diners and emotional resilience. She didn’t even complain about the photo. Honestly, that alone should qualify as modern journalism’s greatest achievement. I turn the corner, seeing a woman on a bench, tossing crumbs to a cluster of birds at her feet while her husband sits beside her, the paper spread open in his hands as he reads something out loud, and whatever it is makes his wife laugh. Those are my words they’re reading. And suddenly, it feels significantly more terrifying than it did five minutes ago.

My chest tightens again, but this time it’s different. A few steps farther and the café comes into view. Two people at a small table, coffee cups in hand, both leaning over the same spread, pointing at something, talking quietly between sips. One of them turns the page with careful fingers like it matters. Because it does.

A man walking his dog passes me, the leash loose in one hand, the paper tucked under his arm so casually it catches me off guard. Like it belongs there. Like Boudica Springs having a newspaper again is the most natural thing in the world.

My heart squeezes painfully around that thought.

I stop walking. Oh my gosh, I did it. I actually did it. Not perfectly. Not dramatically. Not with fireworks or some big, life-altering moment that changes everything all at once. But I did it. I became the thing I’ve been circling for years. And I didn’t need anyone to hand it to me. I built it. We built it.

I swipe quickly at the tear that escapes before anyone can accuse me of becoming emotional in public before nine in the morning. Frankly, that feels like a dangerous precedent.

I blow out a breath and start walking again, faster this time, because there’s somewhere I need to be.

The diner looks strangely quiet from the outside.

Too quiet.

I glance through the window and immediately narrow my eyes. Everyone is sitting far too normally. Shelly is pretending to drink coffee while visibly vibrating in her seat. Luke is grinning into his menu like he has a secret. Even Quadri looks composed, which somehow makes her the most suspicious of all.

And then I spot Teddy near the back booth.

He’s leaning against the wall, coffee in one hand, watching the whole thing unfold with a look that tells me he knows exactly what’s about to happen.

Traitor.

His mouth curves slightly when our eyes meet, and warmth blooms instantly through my chest anyway because apparently my survival instincts are deeply compromised where this man is concerned.

I point at him through the glass.

“You knew,” I mouth accusingly.

His grin widens. Oh, he absolutely knew.

I push the door open.

“Surprise!”

I jump. Like a full-body, heart-in-my-throat, tray-dropping kind of jump. Thankfully, I’m not holding anything because that would’ve been so embarrassing. Which is dumb since I suspected something was going to happen.

The entire place is packed. Shelly, already halfway through a cheer. Mary bouncing like she might combust. Quadri leaning casually but with that unmistakable glint of satisfaction in her eyes. Luke by the counter with a grin that says he’s been waiting for this moment specifically.

“Are you kidding me?” I breathe, my hand pressed to my chest like I can physically calm my heart down.

“No,” Shelly says immediately. “We are not kidding you. This is a very serious celebration.”

“You did it,” Mary adds, like she still can’t quite believe it.

Teddy stays slightly back while the others crowd around me, but every time I glance up, I catch him watching me with pride in his eyes, which makes my chest feel too full all over again. Like this matters to him almost as much as it matters to me. Which is… a lot to process before coffee.

“We did it,” Quadri corrects, but her gaze stays on me, letting me know she sees me.

Tears prick my eyes. God, these people. I barely have time to process it before someone steps forward from the side, someone I don’t immediately place until she speaks.

“Hey.”