Jessa

Lunch had been… almost normal.

Almost.

The table was crowded in that familiar way now—Noah leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him, Jackson was halfway listening and halfway scanning the room like a quarterback still reading defenses, and Mariah was doing what Mariah did best: talking enough for three people.

I was mid-bite of my fries when one of the guys—Shane, I think—cleared his throat.

It wasn’t loud.

But it was the kind of sound that made the whole ...