21. April
Chapter 21
April
Two months later …
A s I walk through Kensington Gardens, I take in the breathtaking sight. The late-summer air is fragrant, filled with the sweet scent of roses and freshly cut grass. Flowerbeds dot the manicured lawns in bursts of oranges, yellow, and purple, their petals catching in the breeze.
The sun filters through the lush greenery of the trees and shrubs, forming speckled shadows on the ground. The gardens come to life with the sound of birds chirping their morning songs as dogs bounce around their owners, chasing each other and fetching balls. Swans and ducks glide across the waters of the Round Pond while children laugh and play, stopping to point and watch the animals with animated smiles.
I tilt my head up, letting the warmth of the sun heat my skin. Walking amongst the rich colours makes Wednesday mornings before work far more tolerable. Nothing worse than setting out on the tube while it’s dreary and drizzling.
It’s been months since I’ve had the strength to return to my favourite café, the Daily Grind, fearing it would bring back painful memories of Lucas. It’s where we met. I would come here every Wednesday morning for a coffee and almond croissant before work. One morning, the barista mixed up our coffee order, and when Lucas handed me my drink, he smiled in a way that could only be described as indecently charming. He had that whole movie-star thing going on. The moment I looked at him, I was a goner. I hadn’t noticed him there before, but after that, he would turn up every Wednesday morning until I gathered the confidence to ask him to join me at my usual table.
Each time I considered returning here since the break-up, tears would prick my eyes, and I couldn’t bring myself to face it. But now, I refuse to let his absence keep me from enjoying my Wednesday morning treat. I refuse to let his memory taint the place that once brought me peace and comfort. It might be where we first met and where our chapter began, but I get to decide how the story ends. I’m writing an entirely new book, and I won’t let sadness in.
The bell above the threshold chimes as I enter the café. I head to the counter, where I can’t help but ogle the display cabinet. I’m cloaked in the intoxicating scent of freshly baked pastries. The smell of buttery croissants, muffins, and Danishes fills the air, and my mouth waters.
I place my usual order and sit by the window, pastry in hand, to enjoy the lovely view of the gardens. After setting my handbag down, I pull out my latest romance novel and settle in to make the most of my morning.
I’m immersed in my book and sipping my coffee when the bell overhead sounds, and I naturally lift my head.
My eyes widen as I take in the striking figure entering the café. I watch as he strides over to the display cabinet, drawing the attention of every female in the room. My teaspoon rattles as I quickly drop my cup onto its saucer. I look around and notice the other women in the café shamelessly ogling him, even those with partners. I can hardly blame them.
His blond waves have grown out and curl at the nape of his neck, just peeking out from underneath a grey woollen beanie. He’s wearing dark jeans that hug his muscular thighs, Timberland boots, and a plain black T-shirt.
After placing his order, he pulls a guitar pick from his pocket and starts twirling it in his fingers before turning around to find a place to sit. I exhale, trying not to make a big deal of it as his eyes dart around the room before landing on me. My cheeks heat, and I shrink slightly in my chair. For a moment, I’m reminded of the first time I saw Lucas, except James’s presence feels different—more intense, more magnetic.
It appears not seeing or hearing from him for two months has done nothing to curb my attraction and appetite for him.
Fucking great.
My traitorous body is practically purring at the sight of him, and I could slap myself.
It’s so wrong . I never replied to his last message. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I figured ignoring it was my safest option.
His lips tip in a smile as he walks over to me, and his eyes bore into mine. When he finally stands in front of me, I have to tilt my head up to meet his stare.
“Hey, April,” he says, slipping his guitar pick back into his pocket. Ugh, his deep, resonant voice sends shivers down my spine.
“Hey, James,” I reply, doing everything I can to hide my emotions.
“Do you mind?” he asks, pointing towards the empty chair opposite me.
“Not at all,” I say as I close my book, shifting my bag closer to make room.
He raps his knuckles on the table as he sits down. I wriggle in my seat, my gaze falling to my hands as they hug my warm coffee cup. He leans back in his chair, one arm stretched out on the table. I can feel his eyes still fixed on me.
He clears his throat before speaking. “I haven’t seen you here.”
I look up to meet his emerald stare. “I didn’t know you came here.”
“I never used to.” He leans forward to cross both arms over the table.
“Oh.”
He’s not dressed in his usual work clothes, so it’s hard to believe he’s simply been onsite somewhere nearby.
“I always used to come here, every Wednesday morning,” I say.
“I know.”
The air rattles in my lungs, glancing up at him. “Have you been hoping to bump into me?”
He shrugs casually. “Figured it wouldn’t be the worst thing, seeing you again.”
I blush at his brazen honesty. His words touch me in a way Lucas’s never did, and I can’t figure out why. I’m so drawn to him.
“What are you reading?” he asks, nodding to my book on the table.
“Oh,” I say, surprised by his question. “It’s a romance.”
“What’s it about?” he asks, settling in.
“A single mum moving to Scotland and falling in love with a security guard.”
“Sounds good,” he says, shooting me a panty-melting grin.
“It is.” I smile shyly, then take a bite of my croissant.
“Almond. Good choice.”
“They’re my favourite,” I say around a mouthful, and he chuckles.
“I’m quite fond of them myself.”
I lower my pastry, threading my fingers together in my lap. “How’s your music going? Have you been playing many gigs?”
He shifts in his seat. “We have, actually. It’s been good. The Mayfair Lounge has been great. They’re hiring us weekly. It’s nice to build a solid following and bring people to a local venue. It’s a win-win.”
“I don’t blame them. You guys are great.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You have that audition, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, licking his bottom lip. “It’s not too far away now. We’re getting excited.”
“I bet. It’s a big deal.”
He nods and as we fall into silence, my mind can’t shake the last words he wrote me.
I didn’t want to leave.
With him sitting before me, all I can see are his strong hands moving over my body.
“I’m sorry if my last message made you feel uncomfortable,” he says, breaking the silence.
I straighten up. Uncomfortable? I’m the one who should be embarrassed. I was a train wreck that night.
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all,” I assure him. “I felt so embarrassed for the way I behaved that night. And I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what to say.”
“You really need to stop apologising, April.”
I’m about to reply when the waitress interrupts us. “Strong latte?” she asks sweetly, batting her long eyelashes at James.
“Thanks,” James says with a polite smile. She lowers his cup to the table, making a show of dipping lower than necessary to showcase her prominent cleavage. He doesn’t respond to her blatant flirtations, instead turning his attention back to me.
The waitress drops her arm and her smile falters, clearly frustrated by his lack of reaction. She quickly moves on, barely concealing her annoyance as she tends to other patrons.
He pushes his drink aside, leaning in. “So, how are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Yeah?”
I laugh. “Yes. I promise. I’ve been doing well.” And I have. Work’s been great, so no complaints there, as usual—I love what I do. Anna and Gemma have been amazing, and I’ve been seeing them regularly. I’ve even started my weekly morning walks again. I used to enjoy them every week, but I stopped after Lucas and I broke up. Slowly but surely, I’m starting to feel like myself again. I’ve been diving into ceramics more these days, particularly after work. Painting my pieces in a kaleidoscope of colours and rediscovering the joy of sculpting and creating. I can already see a noticeable improvement in my technique. I’m starting to wonder if I could consider selling them at markets. Throwing clay ties me to Mum in a way that offers me solace.
Seemingly accepting my answer, he smiles softly, his eyes tender. “I’m really glad to hear it.”
My face transforms as it hits me. “Wait, have you only been coming here because you’ve been worried about me?”
He fiddles with the handle of his mug. “I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
I’m speechless.
Totally dumbfounded.
That night after the Mayfair, he looked at me like he really saw me. Having someone to talk to, someone who could relate to what I was going through outside of my usual circle, was refreshing in a way I haven’t experienced. But I hadn’t really allowed myself the indulgence of thinking much past the conversation we had that night, or even beyond what happened—or almost happened—between us.
I couldn’t.
But the fact that he cares enough to go out of his way just to bump into me, and check that I’m okay, triggers a flurry of hot embers.
“You could have just messaged me,” I whisper.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Just did.”
“Well, thank you. It means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
I exhale sharply. This isn’t something I’d ever thought would happen—I’m sitting in a café on an ordinary Wednesday morning, sipping coffee with James.
I peek at him over the rim of my mug. “Is this weird?” I ask.
I don’t want him to feel like he has to talk to me just because we’ve finally crossed paths and he’s not pulling me back from the edge, but I also can’t deny that I don’t want him to go. Despite the nerves I feel around him, I enjoy his company.
Although he doesn’t always say much, it feels like each of his words matter.
I think he gets me, like he truly listens.
I see a side that’s caring and attentive, and it makes me want more.
“Does it feel weird?” he replies.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It doesn’t.”
“Good.” He sips his coffee before setting the cup back on its saucer. Leaning forward, he drums his fingers on the table, gazing at me thoughtfully.
“What?” I ask, suddenly insecure.
“Come to my gig on Friday.”
“This Friday?”
His eyes dance with amusement. “Yeah.” He laughs. “This Friday. We’re playing a set.” He shrugs. “If you want to, I mean.”
“What will people think?” I ask, ducking my chin.
“It’s just a gig, April.”
I watch him attentively; his jaw tenses and his knee bounces under the table.
Is he as nervous as I am right now?
I nod. “Okay.”
Of course, I was going to say yes.
He smiles, and it’s breathtaking. He radiates sunshine, his whole face lighting up. “Good.”
James reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone to check the time. My heart races as I watch him type, because my mind leaps to a conclusion that sends a pang of unwarranted jealousy through me. Is he texting a woman?
The thought slices through me, reminding me of Lucas’s lies and deceit, but I shake it off when his gaze meets mine. “I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting the guys for rehearsal,” he says, standing. “But it was really good seeing you, April.”
I have no right to feel jealous or assume he’s seeing someone.
It’s none of my business.
So why does my body react like this around him?
I nod, trying to push the irrational unease aside.
“You too,” I say.
“I’ll text you the details for Friday.”
“Sounds good.”
He smiles softly, and I blurt the words out before I can stop them. “I didn’t want you to leave either.”
He pauses. Fire floods my chest. It takes him a second to understand that I’m referring to his last text, and when it clicks, his features ease. He gives a sharp nod, his hands flexing nervously before turning and walking out, leaving my heart ricocheting around my chest.
I shove my book into my bag and finish my pastry and coffee with jittery hands. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head home to get ready for work.