NEVA POV
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The table was a round one.
I noticed this because everything about it was deliberate — the diner's other tables were rectangular, pushed against walls, the kind designed for people eating alone or in pairs who didn't need to look at each other. This one was in the center of the back room, round, nothing at its back, nowhere to put your eyes and pretend you weren't part of what was happening. The kind of table where everyone sees everyone.
Bekah brought coffee without being asked. Set a cup in front of each person with the practiced efficiency of a woman who had done this in many situations and stopped being surprised by what got discussed over her cups.
She set the last one in front of me.
Then she sat down.
I looked at her.
"You're staying?" I said.
"It's my table,"
