Chapter 4 #2
“Miss Delilah spilled her coffee on Mr. Rock Star,” Ellen reports. “And then he said something mean and she got mad. It was very dramatic.”
“I didn’t say something mean,” I protest.
“You kinda did,” Ellen says. “No offense.”
“Ellen, sweetheart, why don’t you go get some napkins from Michelle?” Hazel steers her daughter toward the counter.
“But this is just getting good—”
“Napkins. Now.”
Ellen trudges off, casting longing looks over her shoulder at the drama she’s being forced to abandon.
“I’m so sorry,” Delilah says again. She’s grabbed a wad of napkins and is dabbing uselessly at the table. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’ll pay for your dry cleaning. Or a new shirt. Or whatever you need.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
“It’s obviously not fine. Your notebook is all—”
“The notebook was empty anyway.” I say it harsher than I mean to, frustration bleeding through. “Nothing worth saving.”
She stops dabbing. Looks at me. “Still blocked?”
“Still blocked.”
Something shifts in her expression. The embarrassment fades, replaced by something almost like sympathy. “That must be hard. For someone who’s made their whole career on writing.”
“It’s not ideal.”
“Have you tried—” She stops herself.
“Tried what?”
“Nothing. It’s not my place.”
“Delilah.”
She sighs. “I was going to say, have you tried not forcing it? Sometimes when I’m stuck on an arrangement, I have to walk away. Do something else. Let my brain work on it in the background.”
“Everyone keeps giving me advice today.”
“Sorry. I’ll stop.”
“No, it’s—” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s fine. It’s good advice. I’m just not great at not forcing things.”
“I remember.”
The words hang between us. Heavy. Loaded.
Michelle arrives with a fresh towel and a mop, because apparently the coffee situation has escalated beyond napkin territory. “You two okay over here?”
“Fine,” we say in unison.
Michelle raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
From across the room, I hear Ellen’s great grandma’s voice carry over the general murmur of the coffee shop: “Hazel, isn’t that the flower girl and the rock star? Why do they look like they want to kiss and kill each other at the same time?”
“Great-Grandma Hensley ships it!” Ellen calls out helpfully.
“Ellen!”
“What? She does!”
Delilah’s face has gone red again. “I should go. I have to open the shop.”
“You didn’t get your coffee.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Let me buy you a new one. It’s the least I can do since I’m wearing most of it.”
She hesitates. Every instinct is probably telling her to run, and I wouldn’t blame her.
“One coffee,” I press. “To apologize for...what I said. It wasn’t fair.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it.”
Ellen has abandoned the napkin mission and is watching us with open fascination. Hazel is trying to wrangle her back, but even she keeps glancing our way. Grandma Hensley has given up all pretense and is just staring, a delighted smile on her face.
We have an audience. A very invested, very nosy audience.
“One coffee,” Delilah finally says. “And then I really do have to go.”
I wave Michelle over and order Delilah’s usual—a chai latte, extra foam. I remember. Of course I remember.
Delilah notices. I see it in the flicker of surprise across her face.
“You remember my order?”
“I remember a lot of things.”
Another loaded silence. Michelle delivers the chai with a knowing smile and retreats.
“So,” Delilah says, wrapping her hands around the cup. “Monday.”
“Yes,” I agree.
“Did you survive the weekend?”
“Barely. You?”
“Same.” She takes a sip. “I deep cleaned the entire shop. Mom’s going to come back from Florida and not recognize the place.”
“When does she get back?”
“April. A few weeks.” Delilah’s expression shifts. “She’s going to have opinions about...everything.”
“Including me being in town?”
“Including that.”
I want to ask what those opinions might be. I want to ask a lot of things. But Ellen is edging closer, and Grandma Hensley is practically vibrating with matchmaking energy, and this doesn’t feel like the time or place.
“Book club’s Tuesday, Miss Delilah!” Ellen calls out. “You’re coming, right?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Cool. You can tell everyone about how you spilled coffee on the rock star.” Ellen grins. “It’s gonna be legendary.”
“Ellen.” Hazel’s voice has reached maximum mom exhaustion. “We talked about giving people privacy.”
“But this is way more interesting than privacy!”
Delilah finishes her chai faster than is probably advisable. “I really do need to go. Thank you for the coffee.”
“Thank you for the shower.”
She almost smiles. Almost. “I am sorry about that.”
“I know.”
She gathers her things and heads for the door. I watch her go, because apparently I have no self-control whatsoever.
Just before she pushes through, she glances back. Our eyes meet.
And then she’s gone, the bell chiming behind her.
“Dude.” Ellen has materialized at my elbow. “You’ve got it so bad.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re literally still staring at the door.” She shakes her head with exaggerated pity. “That’s, like, peak down bad behavior.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Nope.” She slides back into the booth across from me, apparently settling in for the long haul. “So. That’s the girl, huh? The one you need to fall in love with to find your muse?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“There you go with ‘complicated’ again.” Ellen props her chin on her hands. “What’s the deal? Did you guys used to date?”
“Something like that.”
“Did she break your heart?”
I don’t answer.
“She totally did.” Ellen’s eyes go wide. “That’s why you said that mean thing! Oh man. This is just like Kira’s K-dramas.”
“It’s not like a K-drama.”
“It’s exactly like a K-drama. Star-crossed lovers, dramatic tension, everyone watching.” She gestures around the coffee shop. “Great-Grandma’s already planning the wedding, I can tell.”
“There’s not going to be a wedding.”
“That’s what they always say in episode one.” Ellen shrugs. “And then by episode sixteen, they’re making out in the rain.”
“Ellen!” Hazel has finally extracted herself from Grandma Hensley’s clutches. “Leave the poor man alone. He doesn’t need a eight-year-old relationship coach.”
“I’m providing valuable insights.”
“You’re being nosy.”
“I learned from the best.” Ellen beams at Grandma Hensley, who waves proudly from her booth.
Hazel sighs the sigh of a mother who has accepted her fate. “Come on. I have to open the boutique. The tourists are already lining up.”
“But I want to see what happens next!”
“Nothing’s going to happen next. Mr....” She looks at me questioningly.
“Levi.”
“Mr. Levi is going to drink his coffee and work on his music, and you are going to help me fold scarves.”
“Spring break is supposed to be fun, Mom.”
“Spring break is supposed to be a week off school, not a week off helping your mother survive tourist season.” Hazel practically drags Ellen toward the door. “Sorry about her. Day one of spring break and I’m already exhausted.”
“Age is just a number, Mom!”
“Get in the car, Ellen.”
The door swings shut behind them. The coffee shop feels suddenly quiet.
I look down at my soaked shirt, my water-stained notebook, my cold coffee.
Then I pick up my pen.
She crashed into me like she always does—
I stop. Stare at the words.
They’re not good. They’re not even close to good.
But they’re something.
I keep writing.