Tessa.
I froze.
I literally blinked, like my brain was trying to reboot. But when my vision cleared, nothing changed.
She was still there. He was still there. Her hand was still on top of his.
He gave her this soft look I’d seen a thousand times—on my mom’s face.
My stomach dropped.
No, I thought. No way.
For a second I thought I might throw up. Or pass out. Or both.
Then Tessa laughed, leaned in, and Mark ran his thumb over her hand.
And they kissed.
Not a quick peck. Not a stupid “oops” moment. A slow, familiar kiss between people who’ve done it before.
Something hot and sharp ripped through my chest. My ears were buzzing. The menu in my hand crinkled because I was squeezing it too hard.
My best friend.
My stepfather.
Together.
I wanted to march over and flip their table. To scream. To drag Mark outside by his collar and call my mom on speaker.
Then another thought slid in, cold and clear:
If you just rush over, they’ll lie. They’ll say you misunderstood. They’ll twist it, make you look crazy. You need someone else to witness this with you.
No. They didn’t get to hide behind confusion.
They wanted to act like a couple in public? Fine. They could get exposed in public.
I slid out of my booth and walked toward the bar. My legs felt weird, almost numb, but my mind was steady.
A young waitress was refilling water glasses.
“Hey,” I said. “Can I ask kind of a weird favor?”
She looked up. “Sure?”
“Can I send a dessert to another table? With a note?”
She smiled. “Yeah, of course. Special occasion?”
“You could say that,” I said.
I nodded subtly toward Mark and Tessa. “The couple by the window.”
She glanced over, then back at me, face neutral. “Okay. What kind of dessert?”
“Something small. Chocolate. Two spoons.”
She pulled out her pen. “And the note?”
I took the pen and wrote on the back of the order slip:
“To my stepdad and my best friend. Enjoy your date. —Natalie”
Her eyebrows lifted just a little as she read it. She didn’t comment.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said quietly.
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