Chapter 7 Two Bagels and Latte

I stared at him.

"..."

"Emily."

"What?"

"Smile."

How exactly was I supposed to smile?!

You were hugging me and you were acting like it was the most normal thing in the world!

The click of the camera finally came.

I almost sighed in relief.

Done. Saved. Survived.

Except Austin didn't move.

If anything, he shifted a little closer.

A little too close.

My brain immediately restarted the panic I had just managed to shut down. His arm was still around my shoulder, and when he adjusted the angle of the phone, our heads ended up almost touching.

Which somehow felt worse.

"We need more."

More?!

"M-More? You already took seven!"

I could practically feel my face losing all its color.

"Those are you," he said calmly. "Not couple."

"Excuse me?"

"Two more," he continued, completely focused on the phone screen. "Then we're moving."

Two more.

Two more pictures where Austin Wood was standing this close to me like we hadn't spent two years carefully avoiding each other.

"You're unbelievable," I whispered.

"Hm."

"That's all you have to say?"

He glanced at me.

"Smile."

I wanted to tell him that smiling was currently the least possible thing my face could do.

Because apparently Austin Wood had forgotten one important detail.

I wasn't an actress.

And he wasn't supposed to feel this familiar anymore.

When Austin finally checked his phone, I felt like the emergency alarm inside my head finally had a chance to calm down.

"The results are good."

He looked back at me.

"Should we go to the fiction section?"

I stared at him.

Fiction section.

Right.

Books.

Normal things.

Things people did when they weren't trying to convince an entire family they were engaged.

"I..."

My brain was still trying to reconnect all the wires Austin had somehow managed to unplug.

"I think I'm tired."

His eyebrows pulled together slightly.

Not annoyed.

Worried.

"Are you okay?"

Great question. Terrible timing.

Because how exactly was I supposed to explain that I was tired because my best friend of ten years had casually hugged me for a fake engagement photo and somehow made my brain forget how breathing worked?

"I just need a minute," I said instead.

Austin studied me for a second before nodding.

"Do you need to rest? There's a café upstairs."

Then, like he couldn't help himself, he added,

"The bagel is still the most popular."

I went quiet.

Again.

And again.

Because apparently today was the day Austin kept pulling old memories out of places I thought I had already packed away.

And for once, I wanted to do the same. I wanted to prove that I remembered too.

"You..." My voice came out quieter than I expected. "You still like their americano?"

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Surprise. Maybe something softer.

But just as quickly, it disappeared behind his usual calm expression.

"Yeah," he said. "I do."

I looked away, pretending to be interested in the shelves beside us.

For some reason, I wanted to know if it meant something to him.

That I remembered.

A few minutes later, we were sitting at a table near the café's wide windows, my favorite spot in the entire bookstore.

The street outside moved like a movie playing on mute. Cars passing by. People walking with coffee cups in their hands. Everything looked ordinary.

Which was slightly unfair. Because nothing about today felt ordinary.

I scrolled through the pictures Austin had taken while he ordered our food.

There I was.

Me, looking nervous, awkward, and completely obvious.

And Austin...

Austin looked exactly like Austin.

Calm. Composed.

Like the two years between us had somehow missed him.

I stared at one picture a little longer than I should have. The strange thing was, I couldn't decide whether that made me feel better or worse.

A small sigh escaped before I could stop it.

And that was the problem.

"Bagels and latte for Ms. Smith."

The tray appeared in front of me, interrupting my thoughts.

I looked up.

My order. And beside it... An iced americano.

"Two?" I frowned as I looked at Austin, who was already sitting beside me.

Beside me.

Close enough that I could still remember how normal this used to feel.

He blinked at the drink, then seemed to realize something.

"Ah."

A tiny pause.

"You always ordered two bagels back then."

Back then.

Two simple words that somehow carried too much history.

Austin glanced at the second bagel.

"Sorry. Habit." He looked almost apologetic, then reached toward the tray. "I'll eat the other one."

Of course. Austin Wood's solution to accidentally remembering my old habits was simply to take responsibility for the extra food.

No awkward explanation. No big reaction. Just fixing the problem.

Like he always did.

And somehow, that was exactly what made it harder.

"I can still eat two bagels."

Austin looked at me for a second. Then the corner of his lips lifted. Barely. But enough.

"Of course you can," he said. "Two bagels are easy for you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me. Are you judging my bagel capacity?"

"I'm stating a fact."

I placed a hand over my chest, pretending to be offended by his words.

"But since I am a kind-hearted woman..." I picked up one of the bagels and pushed it toward him. "I'll share my precious bagel with you."

For a moment, Austin just stared at the bagel. Then he looked at me. 

And something unexpected happened.

He laughed. It wasn't loud. Just a quiet, genuine laugh that escaped before he could stop it.

That made something inside my chest loosen. Maybe because I hadn't heard that laugh in a long time. Maybe because I'd forgotten how warm it sounded.

Neither of us said anything after that. We simply ate. The silence wasn't awkward. It never had been, at least not between us.

Occasionally I'd point out someone carrying an absurdly large stack of books, or Austin would make a dry comment that earned another reluctant smile from me. The conversation wandered nowhere important, yet somehow that made it feel more dangerous.

For a little while...

we weren't collecting evidence anymore.

We were just sharing coffee and bagels.

Like we used to.

When we finished, Austin gathered the empty tray before I could reach for it.

Another habit.

I watched him walk toward the return counter, weaving between tables without looking back.

Before I could think twice, I lifted my phone.

Click.

Austin never noticed.

I looked at the picture.

It wasn't particularly good. The lighting was uneven. Half the tray blocked his arm.He wasn't even looking at the camera.

Still, I didn't delete it.

Great! Apparently I was collecting evidence too!