Marcus’s POV
I wasn’t avoiding Betty. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. But I wasn’t exactly going out of my way to see her either. Running into her outside the studio had stirred something I wasn’t ready to deal with—something messy and unresolved. Especially not after what I’d seen at the farmhouse.
She and Brent were a done deal. I’d accepted that. Or at least I thought I had. But seeing her again, with that fire in her eyes and the sharpness in her voice, reminded me of why it was so damn hard to let go.
Still, I had my own problems to handle. Stacey had asked me to join her for dinner, probably another attempt to play mediator in whatever silent war was brewing between me and Betty. I’d agreed, figuring it was easier to humor her than argue.
But when I walked into the café, it wasn’t just Stacey waiting for me.
Betty was there too.
I froze in the doorway, my chest tightening as I took in the sight of her. She was sitting across from Stacey, a cup of tea in her hands, her posture tense but composed. Stacey spotted me almost immediately and waved me over, completely oblivious to the tension crackling in the air.
“Marcus,” she said brightly. “You’re late.”
Betty didn’t look up from her tea, but I caught the slight twitch in her jaw. She wasn’t thrilled about this ambush either.
“This wasn’t part of the plan,” I muttered under my breath as I slid into the seat across from them.
Stacey smirked, leaning back in her chair with a level of satisfaction that made me want to strangle her. “You two need to stop avoiding each other. You’re adults, not rival high school cliques.”
Betty finally lifted her gaze, her eyes locking onto mine with a sharpness that felt like a challenge. “This wasn’t avoidance,” she said coolly. “I just didn’t think we had anything to talk about.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I shot back, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. If she wanted to throw punches, I wasn’t going to back down.
Stacey groaned, rubbing her temples like a tired parent dealing with squabbling kids. “Can we skip the snark? I asked you both here because I think we need to clear the air. For all our sakes.”
The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that felt louder than any argument. I could feel Betty’s glare boring into me, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. This was exactly why I hadn’t sought her out. Every interaction was a minefield, a battle of unspoken accusations and unresolved feelings.
“Fine,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “Let’s clear the air. What exactly do you think needs saying, Stace?”
Stacey’s gaze flicked between us, her smirk replaced by a rare look of seriousness. “I think you both need to stop pretending you’re fine when clearly you’re not. And if you won’t talk to each other, then I’ll make you.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “This isn’t high school drama, Stacey.”
“Exactly,” she shot back, her voice firm. “So stop acting like it.”
Betty’s voice cut through the tension, low but sharp. “There’s nothing to resolve here. Marcus made his choice, and I made mine. End of story.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I forced a smirk, even though it felt hollow. “Glad we cleared that up, then.”
Stacey’s sigh was loud enough to draw stares from the nearby tables. “You two are impossible,” she muttered, leaning back in defeat.
The silence returned, thicker than ever. Betty’s gaze dropped back to her tea, and I stared at the table, wondering how the hell I’d let Stacey drag me into this. Whatever had existed between me and Betty—whatever could’ve existed—it was clear now that the door was shut.
Still, the way her voice had wavered ever so slightly didn’t escape me. And for reasons I didn’t want to admit, that waver stayed with me long after we left the café.