Daniel turned immediately. “I’ll go get it.” Clare shook her head, firmer than she felt. “No. You should go. I need the restroom again anyway. The wine didn’t sit right. I’ll grab my bag and take a taxi home.” They protested. Eleanor frowned. Brooke offered to stay. Clare waved them off, already turning back toward the entrance.
It felt important—urgent—that she do this alone, though she couldn’t have said why. Inside, the restaurant was quieter now. Chairs stacked. Lights dimmed. The warmth from earlier had drained out, leaving behind a hollow stillness that made her footsteps echo. She had taken only a few steps when a voice stopped her.