Avery had never said that.
She continued:
“I think.”
“I don’t know.”
“I was little.”
Sophia’s eyes filled.
“You don’t have to know.”
Avery nodded.
“I know.”
That was enough.
Years later, Avery found herself on the same mountain road where Jake first met Sophia.
She was twenty-three.
Home from college.
Her old Jeep overheated.
She called Jake.
He answered.
“Where?”
“Mile eleven.”
“Temperature?”
“High.”
“Steam?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it off.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
“I’m coming.”
Sophia’s voice came through background.
“Ask if she has coat!”
Jake shouted:
“Do you have coat?”
“Yes!”
“Your mother wants to know.”
The word landed.
Your mother.
Jake had begun using it occasionally when referring to Sophia, but only after Avery did first.
Avery smiled.
“Tell her yes.”
Forty minutes later, Jake and Sophia arrived together.
Jake climbed out with tools.
Sophia brought thermos.
Avery laughed.
“This feels familiar.”
Sophia looked around snowy road.
“Your father collects stranded women.”
“Terrible hobby.”
Jake opened hood.
“You two can walk home.”
They laughed.
The radiator hose had split.
Jake replaced temporary section.
Avery watched.
Sophia stood beside.
No billionaire twist.
No blind date.
Just family.
Ten years after Jake and Sophia met, Evergreen Café celebrated thirty years.
Maya forced them to sit in original booth.
A plaque? No. Jake refused.
Maya put tiny framed note under table anyway:
WHERE TWO PEOPLE REALIZED THEY WERE LATE FOR EACH OTHER
Jake discovered.
Hated.
Sophia loved.
Maya won.
At dinner, Avery—now twenty-five and engaged herself—asked:
“Did you really both plan to leave after one drink?”
Jake and Sophia answered together:
“Yes.”
Avery laughed.
“What if Dad hadn’t stopped?”
Sophia looked toward window.
Snow fell lightly.
“Then I would’ve arrived late.”
“Your father would’ve been annoyed.”
“He might have left.”
Jake said:
“I would’ve waited.”
Sophia raised eyebrow.
“You told me you were leaving after one.”
“Different.”
“You lie.”
Jake smiled.
Avery asked again:
“What if?”
Jake thought.
There were questions life never answers.
Different road.
Different five minutes.
Different choice.
Maybe nothing.
Maybe later.
Maybe never.
He looked at Sophia.
“I don’t know.”