Page 50 of Buttons

“And it feels strange,” I admit. “I haven’t made social plans in years.”

She studies me with the same gaze she uses on challenging rescue cases. “Coffee isn’t complicated, Fallinger.”

“No,” I agree. “But friendship is.”

Her eyes soften. “Sarah’s a good person. She’s direct and doesn’t play games. Aside from you, she’s my favorite volunteer.”

“Aww, Beatrix!”

“No sap. Now, text Sarah.”

“Alright, alright.” I take a breath and type:Coffee tomorrow at Brewed and Sizzle? My treat to celebrate finishing the proposal.I press send before I can overthink it further.

“Done?”

I nod, feeling oddly accomplished.

“Good.” She returns to her paperwork, then glances up again. “First friend date in a while, huh?”

Friend date sounds so adolescent, but true. “Yes,” I admit.

My phone buzzes with Sarah’s immediate reply:HELL YES. 10 a.m. sister! I’ll save us the good corner table.Followed by a string of celebratory emojis.

As I leave Beatrix’s office, my bag heavy with notes but my steps unexpectedly light, I realize I’m making progress both professionally and personally. Small victories that are adding up to something that feels suspiciously like a real life. My life. Not Julian’s. Not anyone else’s.

Just mine.

Brewed and Sizzle buzzes with morning energy. No one gives me a second glance as I step inside, my curls slightly damp from my shower. No one cares that my sweater is last season’s or that my boots have scuffs on the toes. In the corporate world, these details would matter, but here, no one even gives it a second glance.

I scan the room, happy to get some adult mommy time. Meredith and Leo are with their father, leaving just me, meeting a friend for coffee. Such a simple thing that shouldn’t feel life-changing, yet somehow is.

“Elowen! Over here!”

Sarah waves enthusiastically from a corner table. She’s claimed the comfy spots with comfortable armchairs in front of the fireplace instead of wooden seats.

“I saved our spot and ordered your drink,” Sarah announces as I reach the chairs. A steaming mug waits for me on the small circular table in front of the fireplace. “Oat milk latte with raspberry syrup? Or was it almond milk you prefer? Damn, I should’ve checked.”

“Oat is perfect,” I assure her, settling into the chair and unwinding my scarf. “How did you remember?”

She grins, lifting her mug with a mountain of whipped cream. “I pay attention. Plus, I’ve overheard your order before.”

The fact that she’s noticed this small detail about me creates a gentle glow in my chest. In my former life, preferences were things to be managed, accommodated, or politely suppressed. Julian knew how I took my coffee because it was his job to know, not because he cared.

“So,” Sarah leans forward, her eyes bright with excitement, “the proposal’s officially submitted?”

I nod, cradling the warm mug between my palms. “As of midnight. Beatrix actually sent me a text this morning. ‘Good work, Fallinger,’ but from her, that’s practically a cake and a party.”

Sarah laughs. “Consider yourself blessed.” She takes a sip of her drink, leaving a whipped cream mustache that she wipes away. “You know what this means, right? We have to celebrate properly.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?”

“You’re kidding. We can get coffee any random day. I’m thinking we need a real girls’ night. Drinks, maybe dancing. When was the last time you went out dancing?”

The question catches me off guard. Dancing? Knowing Sarah, she doesn’t mean the waltz.

“I can’t actually remember,” I admit.

“That settles it. We’re fixing that tragedy as soon as possible.”