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I glance down at the napkin again, considering it. “I think… maybe we’re all both. We act because we’re supposed to. Because it’s what people need from us. But sometimes, we slip out of the role, and that’s when we’re real.”

His gaze lingers on me, like he’s seeing me differently, more clearly than before. I don’t know what to do with this sudden intensity, so I lift my glass and drain the last of my gin.

“Guess I’m not the only philosopher in the room tonight,” he teases.

I roll my eyes but can’t help but laugh. “Blame the gin.”

“Blame the company,” he counters, and there’s something almost tender in the way he looks at me.

I reach for the napkin and slip it into my pocket. Something about those words—scrawled in his messy handwriting, passed across a sticky table—hits me in the chest. I don’t know why. But it feels like a question I’ve been avoiding for a long time. One I’m sure I don’t have an answer for.

“So, what about the rest of your life, then?” he asks, a teasing glint in his eye. “Are you one of those career women who doesn’t believe in relationships, or have you just been fending off a line of suitors?”

I chuckle, leaning back in the booth. “A few blind dates here and there. Usually set up by friends who think they know what I need better than I do.”

He grins. “And do they?”

“God, no.” I shake my head with a laugh. “They’re always nice enough, but never… wow. You know? We’d have a perfectly civil evening, eat something overpriced, laugh at the right moments. Then we both go home and never call each other again.”

Dan lifts a brow. “Ghosted?”

“No, it’s more mutual apathy.” I smile wryly. “Like we both quietly agree to let the whole thing die a dignified death.”

He laughs, warm and unguarded. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re great company.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Careful, Dan. Sounds like you’re flirting.”

He spreads his hands innocently. “Just making an observation.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “What about you? Have you dated since…?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. There’s been no one serious. No one, period, if I’m honest. Between Chloe and the motel and… everything, it never felt like the right time.”

“That’s understandable,” I say gently. “But… maybe it’s time you thought about going on a date. You’re good company too. Funny, decent. Not bad on the eyes. Maybe invite a potential special someone to the party.”

He smirks. “You’re laying it on thick tonight.”

“Well, I’m in PR,” I grin. “Selling people is my job.”

He sobers slightly, tapping the side of his glass. “It’s not that I’m closed off to the idea. It’s just… Chloe. I don’t want to confuse her. She’s already had enough upheaval. And what if someone does come along and it gets messy?”

I nod, understanding. “Yeah. My mom dated another teacher from her school once and I tell you, Claire and I were awful about it. Acted up, gave her such a hard time. To this day, I don’t know if it came to a natural end, or if we just made it impossible for them. Unforgivable, really. It was years before she tried again.”

Dan gives a small smile. “Exactly.”

There’s a quiet moment between us, not awkward, just thoughtful. Then he lifts his glass again. “But… I promise to consider it.”

“Good,” I say. “And I promise to go on another blind date… in, oh, about four months, when I have a free hour in my schedule.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You really know how to romance a guy.”

“I aim to impress,” I reply, raising my glass to clink against his again.

We step out of the bar and into the crisp night air, the briny scent of the ocean drifting in on the breeze. The streets are quiet, lit by the soft amber glow of the streetlights. I hug my coat tighter around me as Dan unlocks the car.

“That was fun,” I say, glancing over at him as we walk. “Thanks for the company.”

He casts me a look that’s all soft edges and crinkled eyes. “Thanks for saying yes.”