Soon, I was sent on endless dates with women who cared more about status than substance.
After one particularly exhausting dinner, I wandered into a small café downtown, desperate for something real.
That’s where I saw her.
Claire.
She laughed easily, remembered every order, teased customers kindly, and treated everyone with warmth.
When she came to my table, she smiled. “Rough day?”
“You could say that.”
She poured my coffee. “The secret is extra sugar. On the house. I’m Claire.”
I studied her for a moment.
Then I said, “Do you have five minutes later? I have a strange proposal.”
She tilted her head. “My break’s in two hours. If you’re still here, we’ll talk.”
For the first time in months, I wanted to stay.
