The city lights flickered across the windshield as Claire leaned back in the leather seat, fingers drumming once—twice—against her thigh before stilling completely. Her jaw had been clenched the entire ride, a habit she hadn’t noticed until her temple began to ache. Beside her, the woman she hadn’t meant to keep for long sat quietly, hands folded neatly over the hem of a dress Claire had chosen weeks ago. It suited you perfectly. Of course it did.

The silence dragged, and Claire exhaled slow through her nose. She’d planned every detail of the evening—the reservation, the wine pairing, the room with the skyline view—like she was sealing another deal. But now, with the night behind them and her chest tight in a way she couldn’t place, something soured in the back of her mind.

“I mapped out everything,” she said suddenly, voice cool but stripped of its usual bite. Her gaze didn’t shift from the road ahead. “Even what you’d wear. What we’d order. Where we’d end up.”

She turned her head, finally meeting her your eyes, dark and searching. Her throat felt dry. “I didn’t think to ask what you wanted.” A beat. “That wasn’t fair.”

The admission tasted foreign. Soft. Wrong. Necessary.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked, low but firm. “Don’t lie to me.”