Page 101 of Matchmaking On The Menu

It hangs there between us, bigger than I meant it to sound.

I swallow hard. “I mean… not just the program. Everything that came with it.” I grip my phone tighter. “Getting out of here for a while. Writing somewhere bigger. Seeing if I could actually do this for real instead of just…” I gesture vaguely toward the window and beyond, toward the diner, toward town, toward my entire life.

His silence somehow makes it easier to keep talking.

“I didn’t tell anyone because saying it out loud made me feel selfish.” I laugh weakly. “I should be grateful for what I have.”

“You’re allowed to want more than one thing, Dannica.”

The words hit me embarrassingly hard.

I blink quickly, looking down at the bright blur of my phone screen.

“I think part of me knew if I applied, if I actually got in…” My throat tightens. “I might’ve left.”

There. It’s out now.

The room goes quiet except for the sound of our breathing.

“And that scares you?” he asks gently.

I let out another soft laugh that doesn’t sound much like one. “Everything scares me lately.”

“Fair.”

I finally turn to look at him properly, hair messy from sleep, eyes still heavy, one arm stretched toward me across the sheets as if he’d reached for me before he was even fully awake.

And suddenly this hurts in a completely different way. Because now there’s him. Not just the diner. Not just Grandma and Mom. Teddy.

“I don’t even know what I would’ve chosen,” I admit quietly.

His expression softens further, something careful and understanding settling there.

“You don’t have to figure out your whole life this morning.”

I huff out a weak laugh. “That’s good because I’m doing a terrible job so far.”

His thumb brushes lightly against my back again.

“I think,” he says slowly, “missing one application probably isn’t the thing that decides the rest of your life.”

For some reason, that makes me want to cry.

I shake my head, pressing my lips together. “I did this to myself. I kept putting it off, and now it’s just… gone. I ruined it before it even started.”

“That’s not true.”

“It kind of is,” I mutter.

His hand slides up my arm, gentle but firm enough to get my attention. “Dannica, look at me.”

I hesitate, but I look at him.

He’s fully awake now, watching me with that same steady focus he had yesterday, like he’s not going to let me dodge this.

“One application closing doesn’t ruin anything,” he says.

“It was the application,” I argue. “The one.”