25. Chapter 25

Chapter twenty-five

T he streets outside the coffee shop bustled with late-morning energy, a mix of business professionals and students weaving their way through the sidewalks.

Two painstaking weeks had crawled by since the wedding, each day stretching endlessly.

Luckily, work had been her saving grace—a relentless, all-consuming distraction she clung to like a lifeline.

After Caleb had cancelled the meeting, Howard had rescheduled for a couple weeks later. And they’d spent every waking moment of that time poring over details. But finally, that morning, she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed a break. Just a few minutes to clear her head before diving right back in.

Sam tucked her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, the crisp air nipping at her face as she turned the last corner to the nearby coffee shop.

And right when she did, she froze, her lips parting in surprise.

Jess was walking toward her from the opposite way, about to open the door.

Jess’ eyes flicked to Sam, then darted away just as quickly. Her body tensed, and for a moment, it looked like she might turn around and flee the opposite direction.

“Hi,” Sam said before Jess could escape, her voice coming out more rushed than she intended.

Jess hesitated, her lips pressing into a tight line before she nodded slightly. “Hi.”

Sam stepped forward, opening the door and holding it for her. Jess hesitated again, then slipped inside with a quiet, “Thanks.”

The line was uncharacteristically short for what she expected at that time in the morning, with just two people ahead of them.

Jess stood in front of Sam, her shoulders stiff and her gaze fixed firmly on the menu board above the counter. Sam studied her for a moment, the uneasy silence stretching between them.

They didn’t need to talk. Sam could’ve waited there in silence, gotten her coffee, and left. She could’ve written it off as just one more bullet on the long list of poorly timed surprises.

Really, it would’ve been for the best. There was nothing else to say between them, anyway.

But still, standing there behind her, catching the faint scent of her familiar perfume, she couldn’t help herself. Even if it was just a few words, she wanted to hear her voice.

“How’ve you been?” Sam asked finally.

“Fine,” Jess replied, the word clipped as she remained with her back to her.

Sam swallowed, trying to keep the conversation going despite the brick wall of tension between them. “How’s work been?”

“It’s fine,” Jess said again, her tone no warmer than before.

Sam bit back a sigh. She didn’t know what she’d expected—that two weeks of silence would be wiped away with a few polite questions?

When they reached the front of the line, Jess stepped forward and placed her order—a black coffee, nothing else. As the barista started ringing her up, Sam stepped beside her, pulling out her wallet.

“I got it,” she said quickly, adding her and Caleb’s coffee orders to the order.

Jess glanced at her, but said nothing as she stepped aside to let Sam finish paying.

The barista handed back Sam’s card with a look that felt more than friendly. “Here you go. I’ll remember your order for next time so you can skip the line.”

Sam forced a polite smile, mumbling, “Thanks,” as she grabbed the receipt and moved to the pickup counter beside Jess.

“How’s it been with the wedding planning being over?” Sam asked quietly, not sure if she could handle another clipped response but feeling the need to try.

“Less busy,” Jess muttered.

Sam opened her mouth to say something else, but the barista called out their orders before she could. She reached for the cups, grabbing two at random as Jess picked up the third.

Jess turned the cup in her hands, eyes narrowing as she spotted something written on the side.

Her lips pressed into a tight line, and she rolled her eyes, holding the cup out toward Sam. “This is yours.”

Sam’s brows knitted in confusion as she took it from her. Then she saw the phone number scrawled in black ink on the side.

Jess pushed the cup into her hands before taking a stiff step back.

“Jess—” Sam started, but Jess had already turned, making a quick exit for the door.

Sam rushed to follow, her heart already thudding in her chest. She quickened her pace, catching up to Jess just as she strode down the sidewalk. “Jess, wait.”

Jess slowed to a stop but didn’t look at her, her eyes fixed on the street ahead.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, the words tumbling out. She hesitated, her breath unsteady as she scrambled for the right way to say how she felt.

Jess stiffened, her head tilting ever so slightly in acknowledgment, but she didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” Sam continued, her pulse racing. “About how things were when we first met.”

Jess turned to look at her then, her brow furrowing in confusion as if that specific apology was the last thing she’d expected. “What?”

Sam swallowed hard, wondering where she’d gone wrong. “I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, her voice catching as Jess stared up at her, eyes narrowed in a deep, questioning gaze.

She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to say. But she needed to say something. She couldn’t leave their last conversation untouched. Not when those words had so clearly hurt Jess.

“Sam,” Jess said, her tone soft but firm. She stepped closer, her eyes searching Sam’s face. “Did you mean what you said?”

Sam stiffened, the question twisting into her gut. She thought back to the argument, to every word she’d spoken. She had meant it—all of it. But she hadn’t meant to upset her, to bring up old wounds in a way that felt so raw.

“Yeah,” Sam admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She dropped her gaze to the sidewalk, unable to meet Jess’ eyes. “But I’m sorry for how I said it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jess sighed, her expression softening. “Of course it hurt.” She looked down at the ground between them, staring for a long moment. “I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you back then. And I hated knowing I’d done that. But—” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “You don’t need to apologize for telling me the truth.”

Sam blinked, her throat tightening as the words washed over her.

“Listen to me,” Jess said firmly, enunciating every word.

She stared deeply into her eyes, like she was trying to force her to understand something even deeper than what was between them. Like all she needed in the world at that moment was for her to listen. To really hear what she was about to say.

“Sam, it wasn’t your fault.”

The intensity in her voice settled deep in Sam’s chest, a balm to the rawness she hadn’t realized was still there. And by the way she said it, the deep look in her eyes, she wondered if she was still talking about them. Or if she was talking about something else entirely.

She nodded slowly, her lips parting to say something, but before she could, Jess’ gaze shifted, her guarded walls sliding back into place.

“I have to go,” Jess said, stepping back. Her voice was steady, but the way she avoided her eyes was enough to let her know how forced that was.

Jess swallowed, her jaw flickering. “Good luck with everything.”

Then she turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the crowd.

***

The coffee was lukewarm, barely touched as it sat between her and Caleb on the conference room table. The papers spread out before them blurred together in her mind—legal jargon and dotted lines that felt more like shackles than opportunities.

“Okay,” Caleb said, staring down at the organized chaos, “so remember, we need to ask about the details on page three.” He flipped through the copy of the agreement he’d printed and scribbled notes all over. “And we probably need to clarify this section on page twelve, also.”

Sam sipped the stale coffee, barely processing what he’d said as her mind replayed the run in with Jess that morning.

She looked up, blinking, when she realized he’d gone quiet.

He stared at her, as if waiting for an answer to a question she’d missed.

“Sorry,” she muttered, straightening up in the chair. “What?”

He let out a deep sigh, dropping his pen on the table as he leaned back. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Keep going. I’m listening.”

He frowned. “You haven’t listened to a single thing I’ve said since you got back.”

She sighed, grinding a palm into her tired eyes. “I’m sorry. I just—I feel like I can’t think straight right now.”

He watched her for a moment, then flipped the stapled contract closed. “Wanna take a break and go over some of the other work stuff we need to talk about instead?”

She nodded, finally feeling some small ounce of relief. Talking about the software always made her feel better. Something about focusing on the fine details and inner workings of the code calmed her. It all made perfect sense, even when the other things in her life didn’t.

“Okay,” he said, letting out a breath. “Starting with the bad news.”

She glanced up at him, the ease she’d felt just a moment before instantly evaporating.

“Han quit.”

“What?” Sam hissed.

Han was by far her favorite developer on their team. He was one of the people she loved working with. It was people like him who made all the work they collaborated on so enjoyable.

And that was one of the reasons why she loved doing what she did—collaborating with exceptional minds who pushed her to think in entirely new ways about what she was trying to build.

“Yeah,” Caleb muttered with a tight frown. “Sorry.”

He continued onto the next string of things they had to catch up on. But Sam couldn’t grasp any of it.

All she could think about was what the next two years of their lives would look like.

Relentless work with none of the people they enjoyed.Working for a huge corporation where they were just one of thousands of tiny pieces on the board.In another new place. A place where they wouldn’t have anyone they knew.

No one they cared about.

Caleb leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her carefully. “What’re you thinking?”

Sam rubbed her temples, staring down at the contract but not really seeing it. “I’m just trying to think it through,” she muttered.

“Are you?” Caleb asked, his tone curious rather than accusatory.

Sam looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no judgment in his expression, only concern. She hesitated, then leaned back in her chair with a long sigh. “I miss how it was at the beginning.”

He watched her for a moment, then sighed. “I miss it too. Sometimes.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “You do?”

He loosed a breath, frowning. “Sometimes I wonder if we made the right call.” He gave her an apologetic look, and for the first time, she could see an edge of remorse in his eyes. “I know I pushed it on you. When we first started getting clients. All the moving and—”

He stopped, shaking his head. “Those first few months after we left New York,” he continued, his voice soft and careful in a way she rarely heard. “You seemed so— miserable .” He shook his head, staring down at the table between them. “I thought maybe it was because you’d left Jess.”

Her body constricted instinctively at the sound of her name.

“But then,” he continued, “after we hired Han and some of the others, you seemed—better. I thought maybe you just needed more help. And if we kept getting new clients and hiring, then you’d go back to your old happy self.” He looked up at her. “And you did. Or—well, you mostly did.”

She swallowed, thinking back to that first year after New York. He was right. She had been miserable. She’d thrown herself so deeply into the work that she couldn’t see anything else—couldn’t think about anything else. And she was happy—or at least, content. In her own way.

Caleb stared at her, his lips pursing. “Do you remember what I told you when we first quit and started this company?”

Sam let out a dry laugh. “That we were broke and needed money?”

Caleb chuckled. “Okay, yeah, I probably said that too,” he admitted. “But no. I’m talking about when you asked me what my vision for all of this was. What I wanted out of it.”

Sam’s brow furrowed as she thought back. She could still picture the dingy apartment they’d rented, the smell of takeout that had fueled those late nights. But slowly, the memory came into focus.

“That all you wanted was to work with the most brilliant people in the industry,” she said, her voice soft with the recollection. “To see how they thought, and felt, and operated. What drove them to be who they were.”

Caleb nodded, his eyes taking on a fond look she’d never seen in him before. “Do you know who I was talking about?”

Sam blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—I don’t know. The clients?”

Caleb smiled softly. “I was talking about you.”

She stared at him, her brow crinkling as she absorbed the words. “Me?”

Caleb nodded, his smile softening into something more earnest. “I knew it the day I met you. That first time we talked—you just—had it. The way you think, the way you solve problems, the way you care about the work and the people doing it. That’s almost impossible to find in a person.”

Sam looked away, her throat tightening.

Caleb was quiet for a moment before releasing a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t care if we eventually sold, or if we just coasted along, or even if we went bankrupt. Because every day, I got to do what I always wanted from the start.”

Sam swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the emptiness in her chest.

“Maybe you need something more than that,” Caleb continued, his tone gentle. “But I can’t imagine anything greater than what we’ve already built. Not because of the company, but because of the people in it. And because of you.”

She stared down at the table, the words turning over in her mind.

She thought about everything she’d been chasing—the deals, the contracts, the validation that came with success. But sitting there, with Caleb’s unwavering belief laid bare, she felt something crack open inside her.

“What if it’s not enough?” she asked quietly.

Caleb’s expression softened, but kept its serious edge. “What if it is?”

The words hung in the air, sinking deep into her chest. She thought about the long hours, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices she’d made to get there. And then she thought about the team they’d built, the people who had come and gone. The ones who stayed.

“It’s a lot to handle,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I used to love it. Building something bigger than myself. Now it just feels—I don’t know. Different.”

Caleb smiled, quiet and understanding. “Then let’s change that. You don’t have to do it all alone. You never had to.”

The warmth of his words easing the icy knot in her chest. “Thank you,” she said, swallowing. “Not just for this. But—for everything.”

“Anytime,” he replied easily, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin.

She glanced down at the papers on the table once more, her eyes flitting across them. “I think I need to clear my head,” she said quietly. “Go for a ride and think about things.”

He smiled knowingly, as if he’d expected that from the start. “Do whatever you need.”

***

The city skyscrapers blurred past as she wove through the streets, the rare warm air of the day drifting over her bare arms. The rides were a reset button. A way of finding clarity when everything felt like too much.

But this time, it wasn’t working.

She pushed harder, twisting the throttle and feeling the surge of power beneath her. The engine’s roar drowned out the noise in her head, but it didn’t quiet it. Her thoughts chased each other in endless circles: the deal, Caleb’s words, Jess, the wedding, the fight. It all spun together in a chaotic storm she couldn’t outrun.

She turned down a familiar street, one that usually soothed her with its winding arcs. But even the rhythm of the ride—leaning into the curves, shifting gears, letting the machine and the road work in harmony—didn’t bring the relief it usually did.

Frustration bubbled under her skin like a restless itch. She gritted her teeth, hands tightening on the handlebars as she accelerated onto an open stretch of road. The wind tore past, sharp and burning, but it did nothing to cut through the raw cold in her chest.

The traffic light ahead turned red, and she slowed, her breaths coming shallow and uneven as she looked down at the glowing controls of the bike.

Then one unexpected thought made its way into her head, swirling with the others. And even when she tried to shut it out, it persisted. Something she didn’t want to do—but for some reason, felt the overwhelming need to do.

She released a frustrated breath, shaking her head as the light turned green. Then she twisted the throttle again, the engine snarling in protest as the bike shot forward.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, she made a U-turn, heading to the last place she would’ve expected to want to go.