Chapter 15
Chapter 15
I plod down the hallway toward the kitchen in my bare feet, hoping Jason is still asleep. The gods seem to be against me in all things these days, so I’m barely surprised when I spot him making a pot of coffee in the kitchen.
He turns to face me, coffee pot and mug in hand. “You don’t look set to join the ‘merfolk lifestyle’ this morning, McCarthy. Shall I go get your monofin for you?”
I shake my head and let out a defeated sigh. What made me clutch my sides in laughter last night lands like a lead balloon today.
There’s no use pretending. I’d lain awake half the night, dramatic thoughts like “there are no good guys left in the world” and “I’ll never fall in love” and my personal favorite, “I was born alone and I will die alone,” rolled through my mind like deafening and persistent thunder.
“Don’t. I had a crappy night, and I fully expect to have a crappy day. I don’t know why I agreed to do a shift at the café today.” I nod at the coffee. “Is that for me?”
“It can be.” He pours some coffee into the mug and passes it to me. “The milk is already in there.”
I take it in my hands. “Awesome.” I take my first sip as I sink down onto one of our two kitchen stools. “It’s good. Thanks.”
“Well, drink up. With a shift at the café to get to, you’ll need to be caffeinated to the gills.” His face creases into a smile once he realizes his fish reference has gone down like an oyster. I hate oysters. “Sorry. That wasn’t intentional.”
“But last night’s endless quips were?”
“The guy’s a merman, Soph. A merman .”
Maybe it’s the caffeine hitting my bloodstream, or maybe I’m delirious from the potent combination of feeling depressed and a lousy sleep, but a giggle builds up inside me until it bursts out, sending my mouthful of coffee both up my nose and out onto the counter in front of me.
So ladylike. Mum would be proud.
Jason furrows his brow as he chuckles. “There’s no need to spurt a perfectly good cup of coffee around the kitchen, McCarthy. Here.” He hands me a paper towel and I pat myself down and then the counter.
I rub my nose. “Oh, that hurts.”
“Well, as a doctor, I have it on good authority that coffee is designed to go down the esophagus and into the stomach, rather than up through the nasal cavity and out through the nose.” He uses useful hand gestures to illustrate his point.
“You’re a genius then, aren’t you?” I give my face one more wipe before balling the paper towel up. “And you’re an almost-doctor, not the real deal.”
He shrugs. “Semantics, McCarthy. Semantics. I’m not the one redecorating the kitchen with coffee shot from out of my nose right now.”
I lift the coffee mug to my lips and pause. “Don’t say anything funny for the next five seconds, okay? I need this caffeine in my bloodstream to face my day.”
He mimes zipping his mouth up, attaching a padlock, locking it, then placing the key in his jeans pocket.
I shake my head. “You’re such a dork, Christie.” I take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes as I let the warm liquid slide down my throat. When I open my eyes again, Jason has a concerned look on his face.
“Permission to unzip?” he asks out of the corner of his mouth with his teeth clamped together.
I nod.
“Good, because not being able to talk has got to be the worst torture.” He pours himself a mug of coffee then comes to sit next to me at the counter. “Okay, spill. Is this all about Davy Crockett of the fish-loving merfolk?”
I let out a heavy sigh, incapable of smiling. “Him, Andrew, Oliver. There must be a decent guy out there for me to date. And you know what? That’s all I need: one normal, nice, decent, non-weirdo guy. Is that too much to ask?”
“Apparently, it is, if the last handful you’ve picked are anything to go by.”
“Maybe it’s me? Maybe I attract the weirdos? And no jokes,” I warn. “I can’t take you ribbing me this morning.” I drop my head and feel the cool kitchen counter under my forehead.
“Listen up, McCarthy. It’s not you. No way. You’re one cool chick. You’re just having a bad run, that’s all. We all have them.”
I raise my head a few inches from the counter to look at him. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble in doctors and nurses paradise?”
He shrugs. “No trouble. My point is, it’s just a frustrating phase. Nothing more. And believe me when I say there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me? Jason Christie, you sweet talker. No wonder you get so many dates.” I straighten back up and take another sip of my coffee. A girl can only rest her head on a kitchen counter for so long before it becomes tragic. And I don’t want to be tragic.
“You know what I mean. You’ll find the right guy for you. You know what they say, he’ll turn up when you least expect it.”
“And until then, I get to enjoy my boyfriend-less existence, running a business that’s losing customers, with pressure from my family to ‘do something important’ with my life. Cool.”
“Now you’re sounding like a total drama queen, McCarthy.”
“I know.” I slump my shoulders. “I don’t mean to sound dramatic. It’s just that Sean and the others agreed to give me eight months to make something of my new job at High Tea, and Bailey’s been telling me it’s losing customers and she doesn’t know why. Jas, if High Tea goes out of business, I could end up as an unpaid intern, living in my old bedroom in my parents’ house until I’m, like, forty. With no dates!”
“We’ll have to do something about the terrible state of your life, then, won’t we?”
“Any suggestions? I’m open to everything.”
“Well, first up, I suggest you finish your coffee, taking extra care not to snort it up your nose. Then, have a shower, go to work, and figure things out with Bailey. You’re a smart girl, I know you can do this.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy. And Soph? You’ve got this.”
As our gazes lock, I notice for the first time that his brown eyes have flecks of gray and gold. It gives them a certain depth and makes them sparkle.
Strange. I’ve never noticed that before.
The skin around the edges of his eyes begins to crinkle as a warm smile grows on his face, and a sense of hope builds inside me for the first time since before the David ‘merfolk lifestyle’ debacle last night.
I square my shoulders. “Yeah, you’re right, Jas. I do. I’ve got this.”
“That’s the Sophie McCarthy I know and love.”
I swallow the last of my coffee and climb down from the stool. I begin to make my way down the hallway to my room, when I stop, turn back, and say, “Thanks, Jas. You’re the best.”
He gives a self-deprecating shrug. “It’s all purely selfish, you know. I don’t want my roomie moping around all day, and I definitely don’t want to have to replace her if she moves back to live with her parents.”
I let out a laugh as I resume walking to my room. “You’re so predictable, Christie.”
During my commute into the Cozy Cottage, which involves me sitting in a long stream of traffic and occasionally crawling through the streets of Auckland, I push obsessing over my inability to meet a nice, normal guy to the back of my head. What’s the point in beating myself up about it? Jason’s right, one hundred percent. There are great guys out there. I’ve just got to stop looking and one will appear.
Maybe I can magic him up?
Ha! If only.
I turn my mind to High Tea’s lack of customers. As I wait behind an SUV at my fifth set of red traffic lights so far, I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. I need to find a fix. Bailey said she had no idea why the customer numbers had been falling, and on the surface at least, it’s not at all obvious. One thing I know for sure is it’s not the quality of the food. Bailey and Paige are fantastic cooks, and the Cozy Cottage Café is famous throughout the city for its delicious cakes. But, at the risk of sounding like a cross between Sean and Yoda: cake does not a high tea make.
I pull into my parking space and take the short walk to the café. It’s Friday morning, and I’m pulling a super lengthy one at the café today. Friday nights have long been the Cozy Cottage Friday Night Jam, with local musician performances each week and an open mic night once a month. They’re a lot of fun and a lot of work.
I push through the door to the kitchen and am immediately greeted by the aroma of freshly baked cakes. Bailey turns and greets me with a bright “Hello” accompanied by a beaming smile, oven gloves on her hands as she transfers a freshly baked chocolate cake to the counter.
There are some major perks to working at the Cozy Cottage.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this long shift today, Sophie. You’re a total lifesaver, and I’m going to pay you double for tonight.”
“Thanks! I could do with the cash.” I pull a laundered Cozy Cottage Café polka dot apron from under the kitchen counter and slip it over my head. “I love the open mic night. You never know what’s going to play out in front of your eyes.”
“Like Marissa singing a love song to win Nash’s love?”
I place my hand over my heart. “Oh, that was so romantic.”
Bailey lets out a sigh. “I know. My sister-in-law knows how to pull off a super grand gesture, that’s for sure. Speaking of romance, you went on a date with a new guy, didn’t you? That guy from High Tea?”
An image of David wearing a monofin and a Davy Crocket-style hat pops into my head, and my insides twist. “It didn’t work out.”
She pulls out another cake from the oven and places it on the counter next to the chocolate cake. “That’s a shame. Was it the vetting or did you just not click?”
“It was more his lifestyle. He told us all about it during the Vetting Process. He’s a merman.”
“A mer what?”
“A merman. It’s the male equivalent of a mermaid.”
Surprise registers on her face. “Oh.”
“Oh exactly. Not my thing. So,” I say with a sigh, “I’m back to boring old single Sophie.”
“You’re never boring, Sophie.” She puts her hands on her hips and bites her lip, clearly pondering something. “What about that cute guy that comes in here all the time?”
“You may need to be a little more specific, Bailey.”
“He’s tall, broad, got dark hair, and wears a suit and glasses all the time. He’s clean-cut but with a sporty edge. Looks like Clark Kent, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Clark Kent.” I visualize the guy with ease. I admit, I have noticed him before. What woman wouldn’t? With his tall, athletic physique and handsome features, he looks like a superhero in a suit, ready for action. It would be hard not to notice a guy like him. We’ve shared smiles and light conversation as I’ve made him coffee before, but it’s never gone anywhere.
“I wonder if he’s got his Lycra suit under his clothes?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Bailey Jones, you’re a married woman.”
“Oh, I know, a very happily married woman at that. I wouldn’t switch Ryan for any man on this sweet earth. But a woman can notice things, can’t she?”
“I guess.”
“He’s hot, though, right?”
“Do the Irish eat potatoes? Of course he’s hot! But Bailey, whether he’s hot or not isn’t the point. I’m no Lois Lane.”
“Oh, you’re much cuter than Lois Lane, honey. You should chat to him when he’s in next.” She picks up a fully frosted carrot cake and walks toward the café, pausing near me to add, “Which I bet will be today.”
As I collect the keys from the hook by the door and follow her out into the café, I’m not exactly feeling like putting myself out there with some new guy. My track record since starting the No More Bad Dates Pact has not been something to brag about, and I’m not sure I want to get my hopes up with some other guy, even if he masquerades as Clark Kent.
I pull the front door open and come face to face with a guy maybe a couple of years older than me, his hand raised in a fist to tap on the door. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a plain navy T-shirt, his wavy brown hair pushed behind his ears.
My jaw drops open as recognition hits me between the eyes. “Alex?”
His handsome face creases into a grin. “Sophie McCarthy!” He collects me in a hug, lifting me right off the ground. “I had no idea you worked here.”
“It’s your lucky day, then. Isn’t it?” I tease.
“Or maybe it’s yours. I’m working here now, too.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “What happened to the great photography career? I thought you were off traveling the globe, snapping photos, and living the high life.”
“Traveling the globe, snapping photos, yes. Living the high life? Well, I’m here to work as a barista. Is that ‘high life’ enough for you?”
“Do you two know each other?” Bailey says as she walks across the café toward us.
I grin at Alex and turn to Bailey. “Alex is my cousin.”
“Sort-of cousin,” he corrects. “We could never quite work it out.”
“His mum is my mum’s aunt. She had kids a lot later than my mum, which is why Alex is only two years older than me,” I explain unnecessarily. Really, calling Alex my cousin is where I should have left it for simplicity’s sake.
“Well, welcome to the Cozy Cottage Café, Sophie’s almost cousin. I had no idea you were related when I interviewed you last week.” Bailey extends her hand and Alex shakes it.
“Thanks, Bailey. I promise not to give her any noogies while I work here, despite the fact she’s my annoying younger cousin.”
I laugh. “Oh, you were good at the noogies. It didn’t help that you were always so much bigger than me.”
“Come with me, Alex. I’ll get you all set,” Bailey says.
As customers begin a slow but steady stream through the door, Bailey takes Alex out to the kitchen, and I greet a couple of our regulars as I begin my barista tasks for the day.
“Bailey didn’t mention an Alex Walsh was starting here today, huh?”
I look up from my jug of frothy milk at Alex. He’s standing behind the counter, still with that familiar grin plastered across his face, only this time he’s got his hair tied back and is wearing a frilly pink Cozy Cottage Café apron wrapped around his middle.
“Nice apron. The pink really brings out the color of your eyes.”
“I’m secure enough in my manhood to wear pink, you know.”
“I don’t want to hear about your manhood, thanks.” I chuckle. “What are you doing here, anyway? You’re a big deal photographer not a lowly barista like me.”
“Don’t put yourself down, Soph. That’s my job.”
“Is that right? Still with the banter, huh?”
“Hey, remember when we were kids and you used to turn up at our house in your pretty princess dresses and I’d make you play war?”
I smile at the memory. “I’d always end up covered in mud, and Mum would be furious with me when it came time to go home.”
“But it was fun, right?”
“Totally.”
“Well, imagine here at the café, I’m the one in the pretty princess dress and you’re the one getting me to play war.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Just show me what to do.”
“It’ll be my pleasure.” I grin at my cousin.
This is exactly what I need. Someone to mix it up with, to take my mind off of dating disasters and High Tea problems.
Maybe my day is looking up, after all?