Chapter 7 Chapter Seven: Lists and Loose Ends
By Saturday morning, Rowan was running on coffee, lists, and sheer determination.
Her passenger seat was buried under expo prep. Boxes of sample items stacked at uneven angles, shifting slightly every time she took a turn. Stacks of branded flyers slid against each other with a soft paper shuffle. Two separate bags sat wedged near the floorboard, both labeled clearly.
Giveaways.
Backup giveaways.
Because she did not trust anyone to remember what mattered when it actually counted.
Jess would laugh when she saw it.
Like she did last night.
“You’re packing like we’re going to war,” Jess had said, curled up on Rowan’s couch with a glass of wine, watching her move from list to list without pause.
“It is war,” Rowan had replied, not even looking up from her checklist. “Just with name tags and bad lighting.”
Jess had grinned, clearly entertained.
“You love it.”
Rowan had paused then.
Just for a second.
The pen in her hand hovering over the paper.
“…I like being prepared.”
Jess had not pushed.
She never did.
Now, as Rowan pulled into a small strip center parking lot, she exhaled slowly, cutting the engine. The quiet that followed felt almost too still after the low hum of the drive.
“Okay,” she muttered, her voice soft but steady. “Last stop.”
Coffee, then one more supply run.
Then she could finally be done.
Or at least feel like she was.
She sat there for a second longer than necessary, her hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. The lists were still running through her head, items checking off automatically even when she was not looking at them.
Pens.
Samples.
Backup signage.
Everything had a place.
Everything was accounted for.
So why did it still feel like something was missing?
Rowan pushed that thought aside, grabbing her phone and keys before stepping out of the car.
The bell above the café door chimed softly as she stepped inside, the sound gentle but clear against the low murmur of conversation.
The scent of roasted coffee wrapped around her immediately.
Warm.
Familiar.
Exactly what she needed.
She stepped into line, rolling her shoulders slightly, trying to shake off the lingering tension that had followed her all morning. It sat just beneath the surface, not strong enough to demand attention, but persistent enough that it never fully disappeared.
It was not anything specific.
Just that feeling again.
Like she was forgetting something.
Or someone.
Rowan frowned faintly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“Probably just stress,” she murmured.
That made sense.
It always did.
The line moved forward, slow but steady. When it was her turn, she ordered without thinking, the words automatic.
Same drink she always got.
Same size.
Same everything.
Routine.
She stepped to the side to wait, her phone already in her hand before she consciously decided to check it.
It buzzed.
Jess.
Jess: Tell me you remembered the pens this time
Rowan snorted softly, her thumb moving across the screen.
Rowan: I have three boxes of pens
Jess: You’re ridiculous
Rowan: You’ll thank me when everyone else runs out
She could practically hear Jess’s voice in her head, amused and just a little exasperated.
There was a brief pause.
Then another message came through.
Jess: You, okay? You’ve been kind of off
Rowan stared at the message for a second longer than necessary.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
She typed something.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Rowan: Just tired. Expo stuff.
That was easier.
Cleaner.
Simple enough that it would not invite more questions.
Jess’s reply came quickly.
Jess: You’ve been “just tired” since I met you
Rowan smiled faintly despite herself.
Jess: Also, your taste in men is trash but that’s a separate issue
Rowan let out a quiet laugh under her breath, shaking her head slightly.
“Not wrong,” she muttered.
Because it was not.
Her relationships never lasted.
Not really.
It was not for lack of trying. She showed up. She gave it time. She followed through the way she did with everything else.
But something always slipped.
She lost interest.
Or they did.
Or it just… stopped fitting.
Something always felt off.
Like she was only halfway there.
Jess said it was because she overthought everything.
Rowan said it was because she refused to settle.
The truth was probably somewhere in the middle.
“Rowan?”
She looked up, startled slightly, the shift in attention sharper than it should have been.
“Sorry,” the barista said, holding out her drink. “I called your name twice.”
Rowan blinked, stepping forward quickly.
“Oh, sorry. Thanks.”
She took the cup, her fingers tightening slightly around it as the warmth settled into her hands.
Twice?
“I didn’t hear you,” she added, her voice quieter now.
The barista just smiled politely, already turning back to the next order.
“Happens.”
Rowan nodded, stepping aside to clear the pickup area.
But that feeling crept back in.
Stronger now.
She turned slightly, scanning the café without meaning to.
People talking.
Typing.
Laughing softly over half finished drinks.
Normal.
Everything looked normal.
Still.
For a split second, she could have sworn someone was watching her.
Not obvious.
Not direct.
Just there.
A presence that did not belong to anything she could see.
Rowan shook her head, pushing the thought away as she headed for the door.
“Get it together,” she muttered.
The bell chimed again as she stepped outside.
The air felt cooler.
Clearer.
She took a sip of her coffee, focusing on the taste, letting the normalcy of it settle her.
Lists.
Supplies.
Expo.
That was what mattered.
Everything else was just stress.
It had to be.
She walked back toward her car, the weight of the morning settling back into something manageable, something she could control.
Across the street, unnoticed, a figure stood just long enough to watch her leave.
Still.
Quiet.
Observing.
Then turned away.
