The lunch was pleasant enough—light chatter, the occasional shared joke—but Simon quickly realized that half of Anna’s attention wasn’t on him at all. Her phone buzzed repeatedly, each time drawing a smile, a soft laugh, or a quick blush that made his chest tighten.

He tried to mask it, sipping his coffee slowly, leaning back in his chair, but the irritation gnawed at him. Who is she texting? What’s so funny? he thought, bitterly aware that he’d never been the one eliciting those reactions from her.

Anna’s fingers danced across her phone, thumbs flying as she typed rapid replies. Simon’s jaw clenched slightly. He reminded himself: it doesn’t matter.

He...