Page 40 of Micah

Because I haven't stopped watching her.

Sloane moves through the crowded bar like she's dancing to music only she can hear.

Table six wants another pitcher.

The couple at the high-top needs menus.

Some guy drops his fork.

Before anyone says a word, she's already there.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Checking on everyone.

She remembers names.

Favorite drinks.

Who's celebrating a birthday.

Who just got divorced.

Who likes ranch with their wings.

It's impressive.

No.

It's beautiful.

She's beautiful.

Not because of the way her jeans hug those soft, curvy hips that have invaded more dreams than I care to admit.

Not because every time she laughs I feel something tighten in my chest.

It's the way she makes people feel.

Seen.

Important.

Like they matter.

I know what that's worth.

Because I've spent most of my life feeling invisible.

She hustles from the kitchen, carrying three overloaded plates balanced on one arm.

Patrick brushes right past her.

Empty-handed.

Doesn't even hold the swinging door.