Chapter Eleven Coffee Interrupted #2
My heart pounds as I listen to her confession, every emotion swirling into the perfect storm inside my head. The tips of her
fingers barely touch mine, her hand tense like she’s forcing herself not to move it any closer. Her attempt at comfort lying
aborted between us.
“You don’t have to believe me, not yet,” Nikki says.
“But I’m not that person anymore. I’m not holding on to excuses either.
I just . . . for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.
I’ve wanted to say that to you for a long time.
” Our eyes meet and she pulls her hand back.
“That’s why I came back. Regan’s right, at least about me.
Pretending it’s about anything else is ridiculous.
If you want me to leave permanently this time, I will.
You have my word. I just couldn’t do it without you knowing how very, truly sorry I am for all of the pain that I caused. ”
“Nikki, I—”
Before I can get my thought out, the door to the coffee shop is shoved open. Hard. Johnny walks in with a fiery look in his eyes, as an apologetic-looking Regan scrambles in right after him.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Johnny asks, storming up to our table. Nikki looks baffled by the giant man in
mechanic’s overalls racing toward us. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“Johnny,” Regan says, pulling on his arm.
Nikki looks between us. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“No, and you don’t deserve to either,” he snaps.
“Meet my other best friend, Johnny McFarlane,” I say, wishing I could climb under the table and wait until this awkward moment passes. “He’s
a little protective.”
“Got it,” Nikki says, and then points at Regan. “So, you’re the good cop in this scenario and he’s the bad one? Is that what
we’re doing?”
“Do not bring Regan into this. While we’re at it, leave Annie out of it too. You can’t keep coming here and screwing up their
lives whenever you get bored of counting money in your little mansion.”
“Their lives?” Nikki says, her eyes shooting to mine. “Is Regan your partner?”
“Yes,” Johnny says, at the same time as I say, “No.”
Nikki looks utterly confused. “I don’t—”
“Business partner,” Regan pipes up awkwardly behind me. “Business partners and best friends. Nothing romantic.”
Nikki turns back to Johnny. “Then you’re pissed off because . . . ?”
“Because Annie and Regan are too fucking nice, and you’re too fucking Hollywood. You’re not going to sit here and smooth talk
Annie until she consents to being mentioned in your stupid book.”
“I don’t actually need her permission to write it,” Nikki says, clearly getting pissed. “Do you think Justin Timberlake signed a release for Britney
Spears to put all the stuff about him in her book? That’s not how it works. As long as I can prove anything I write, it doesn’t
matter if I have her blessing or not.”
“Real nice, Nik,” I say.
She looks back at me, worried. “I don’t want to write anything you don’t feel good about or comfortable with—that part still
stands! I just need you to understand that I’m not here because of the book!”
“Sure, you’re not,” Johnny says, and Regan turns to respond.
“Okay, enough,” I say, holding up my hands toward both Nikki and Johnny in an effort to get them to stop. “I believe you,
Nikki,” I say, ignoring Johnny’s eye roll. “But if it was just an apology, you could have DMed or called the shop. Why did
you come all the way back here?”
Her eyes soften. “Am I allowed to say I missed you?”
“No,” Johnny answers for me.
I turn back to him with a sigh. “Johnny, I love you, but I can handle myself. You’re going to get us kicked out of your new
favorite coffee shop. Plus I really, really don’t want to draw any more attention to the person who’s sitting at this table with me than we already have. That will make my life harder.”
Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose like he does whenever he’s trying not to lose it. And I know, I know his heart is in the right place. My frustration dissipates in the face of his obvious internal war. Johnny has seen firsthand
the devastation Nikki caused and had a front-row seat to my attempts to rebuild—to him this must look like I’m throwing my
storm doors open and inviting a hurricane in for a drink.
“I know you can, Annie,” he finally settles on. “I’m not trying to make things worse. I just—”
“Why don’t you and Regan grab a few beers and some pizza and meet me back at my place in like thirty?” I offer. “We can hang
out and decompress?”
He flicks his eyes to Nikki and then back to me. “If that’s what you want to do.”
I nod. “It is.”
Regan links her arm firmly with his. “Come on, you’re buying after all this,” she says, leading him out the door with a quick
wave and a mouthed apology behind his back.
Nikki watches them until the door clangs shut behind them. “Charming guy.”
“I think so.” I sigh. “Sorry, Johnny can be intense, but he means well. He’s had a rough go of life too—I met him like the
day after I got here and we did that whole found-family, bonding over past traumas thing. I was pretty messed up when I left
you. I couldn’t eat or sleep, I would stumble to the bar like a little zombie and . . .” I shrug, watching Nikki’s fingers
curl into fists on the table before she drags them back into her lap.
“I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“It was,” I say, not bothering to hide the truth anymore. “Johnny helped me get back on my feet. He’s the one who introduced me to Regan and cheered me on when I applied to work at In Bloom. They’re honestly the best friends I could ever hope for.”
“You sure it’s friendship he’s after with you? He came off a little jealous.”
I laugh. “Yeah, he’s wholeheartedly in love with Regan. I know that was a horrible introduction to him, but I promise he’s
a good guy and an even better friend.”
Something flashes across her face, distrust or maybe jealousy, but just as quick as it comes, it’s gone again. “Good, I’m
happy that you have him, then,” she says, but I can’t tell if she means it.
“I should probably get going,” I say. “I need to pick up my apartment and feed Gouda before everybody gets there.”
“I don’t suppose I could get one of those impromptu party invites?”
I laugh. “I’m pretty sure everyone in attendance is planning to shit-talk you tonight, so it might not be the best idea.”
“Even you?”
“Probably,” I joke, giving her a little smile so she knows I don’t mean it.
“Want to know a secret? That’s not really a deal-breaker. I can shit-talk myself with the best of them. I’m still in, if you’ll
have me.” Her voice is teasing, but her eyes are sad.
My stomach clenches around the thought that she probably really means that. “Nikki . . .”
She tips her head away, running her tongue over her teeth. “It’s fine, Anne,” she says, my new name rolling off her tongue
like a razor. “Maybe I’ll see you around, yeah?”
I didn’t notice it before, too caught up in my reaction to seeing her again to analyze the state of her.
To anyone else, she probably looks fine, but I’m not anyone else.
I know—knew—every expression, every curve of her lips, every raised eyebrow.
I could always read her like a book even if she hadn’t said
a word. And reading her now, I can tell there’s something very off.
“One drink,” I blurt out before I can change my mind.
“One drink?” she asks, crinkling her forehead.
“You can come over for one drink, but then you have to go. Less than that, if you and Johnny can’t pull it together.”
She nods quickly, like she’s worried the invitation might disappear if she doesn’t acknowledge it fast enough.
“Should I meet you there or . . .” She trails off.
“You can walk with me,” I say. “But let’s go now. Gouda will kill me if her dinner’s any later than it already is.”
“Okay,” she says quietly, clearing the table and carrying both of our messes over to the bins.
I shoot a text to Regan, warning her about the extra guest and praying she can help Johnny get a grip before they come over.
Then I quickly try to remember anything embarrassing I might have left out in my apartment for her to see . . . but mostly,
I just try really hard to ignore the tug down low in my belly—the one that’s preening over the fact that Nikki cleaned up
the table; that Nikki is taking care of me again, the way she used to before it all went wrong.