He remembered how they used to talk about opening a bookstore together one day, the kind with beanbag chairs and walls covered in art from local kids. Seeing her here carrying plates instead of books made his stomach twist. But what unsettled him more was how easily she seemed to hide whatever was going on behind that smile. And he was starting to realize he wanted to know why. Renee came back a few minutes later setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him.
“On the house,” she said with a little shrug. “You don’t have to do that,” Matthew replied. “I want to,” she said sliding into the booth across from him again. “It’s not every day an old friend walks in here.” He studied her face while she poured him more coffee. There were faint lines near her eyes now, the kind you get from both laughter and worry. Her hands were rougher than he remembered and a small scar ran across the top of her knuckle.
“So,” she began stirring a packet of sugar into her own mug. “What’s real estate like? You flipping houses or something bigger?” “Bigger,” he said cautiously. “Apartments, commercial properties, that sort of thing. ” Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “That sounds intense.” “It has its moments.” She nodded slowly. “Good for you. You always did work hard. Remember how you used to help me with history even though you hated it?” He chuckled. “Still do. I only helped because you threatened to stop helping me with math.” Her laugh was real this time, not the polite kind.
“True. ” She sipped her coffee then looked down at the table like she was deciding whether to say something. “It’s weird seeing you here. Makes me think about all the stuff we used to talk about.” “Like the bookstore?” he asked. “Yeah.” She smiled faintly. “Guess life had other plans.” Matthew wanted to ask what those plans were, but he could feel the weight behind her words. It wasn’t the kind of thing you push for in a diner full of people who might overhear.
“How long have you been here?” he asked instead. She shrugged. “A while. Work’s steady. Pays the bills.” The way she said it, flat with no conviction, told him more than any long explanation could. A group of noisy customers walked in and Renee glanced toward them, her smile snapping back into place like a mask she’d worn a thousand times. “Duty calls,” she said sliding out of the booth. As she walked away, Matthew picked at his toast, his mind spinning.
