Jean waited for the right moment.
Tyler was still speaking with the waiter, his attention briefly diverted as he reviewed something on the wine list. His posture was relaxed, but even now, Jean could feel it—his awareness of her was never fully gone.
Still, this was the only opening she was going to get.
She placed her napkin neatly beside her plate and leaned slightly toward him.
"I'll be right back," she said softly. "Washroom."
Tyler glanced up immediately. For a split second, something sharp flickered behind his calm expression. Not refusal—calculation.
"How long?" he asked gently.
"Five minutes," Jean replied, keeping her voice steady. "I just need to fix my makeup."
A pause.
Then Tyler smiled faintly, as if satisfied by her predictability. "Don't take too long."
He leaned in slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't like not seeing you."
The words were soft, almost affectionate.
But they tightened something cold in Jean's chest.
