The tea shop was quiet, a welcome change from the whirlwind chaos of the matchmaking convention. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the polished wooden tables and shelves stacked with colorful tins of loose-leaf tea. For the first time in weeks, Ava felt like she could finally exhale.
Or so she thought.
"Are you going to keep pacing, or should I set up a lap counter?" Ryan's voice came from the back corner, where he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and watching her with an amused grin.
Ava stopped mid-step, glaring at him. "I'm not pacing."
Ryan arched a brow. "You've been circling that table for the last five minutes. Pretty sure even Harold could beat that time, and he's still recovering from the convention's dessert-cart collision."
Ava groaned, running a hand through her hair. "I just… need to think."