Chapter 20 Warren
TWENTY
WARREN
Peaches is a quaint coffee shop on Main Street, in the heart of Iris Meadows. I’m not a city boy by any means, living in a suburb of Nashville, but small town life isn’t for the fainthearted.
The second I climbed out of my truck, three strangers wished me a good morning and asked how my day was going. One woman even asked if I was single, and, quote, unquote, “Fresh meat gets snatched up quickly in this town.”
Everyone was smiling and dying to pry into my personal life. The stares and whispers as I entered the coffee shop were far from subtle, and I cursed myself for being ten minutes early.
I didn’t know what Harriet drank and didn’t want to risk buying her something that would trigger her nausea. Was she allergic to anything? Was dairy her only food aversion? The list of questions grew as the minutes ticked by, as did the worry I’d get something wrong.
“Good morning,” the woman behind the counter greets me. “What can I get for you?”
The words on the chalkboard behind her jumble into a mess of letters. “Um, what dairy-free drinks do you have?”
“Lots. Tea—herbal, fruit, green. We’ve got smoothies. Fresh-squeezed juices. Coconut water…” The list continues.
“I’ll take that,” I interrupt before we’re here all day and Harriet catches me fumbling like an idiot.
“Which one?”
“All of them. A tea. A juice. A smoothie. Oh, and a cappuccino, please.”
She blinks at me before tapping in my order and ringing me up. Crisis hopefully averted, I find a two-seater table and wait.
When the time reads 10:13 a.m., I grow anxious. She doesn’t live far from here, and I haven’t received a text to tell me she’s running late. Is she okay? Sick?
As if my racing thoughts summon her, the bell above the door chimes, and Harriet materializes. I stand, knocking my knee into the wooden table and sending the saltshaker toppling over. A bad omen. Fucking perfect.
Wrapped head to toe in wool, she spies me and smiles. A smile I’m far from deserving, but fuck, if it isn’t the prettiest, framed with flushed cheeks and sparkling blue eyes. She stops in front of me, unraveling her scarf from around her neck, slightly breathless.
Rather than ask how she is or tell her she looks nice, like a normal person, I blurt the first thing that springs to mind.
“You’re late.” I wince and go to retract my blunt statement, but Harriet raises a mittened hand.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious. If you must know, my jeans didn’t fit, which caused me to spiral and hate everything in my wardrobe.” She plucks at the collar of her cable knit dress with a defeated look in her eyes. “This was the only thing that passed.”
If I despised myself earlier, I want to climb into the pits of hell and make my eternal bed now. This happens when you don’t socialize outside of colleagues and family. Anything I say now will come across as a pity compliment, so I keep quiet.
She shrugs out of her coat and drags her mittens off with her teeth. “Do you want a coffee?”
“I’ve already ordered. I hope that’s okay.” Just then, my name is called. “Sit, get comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
She taps a slender finger to her lips, the movement distracting. “That’s very presumptuous of you. How do you know what I like?”
She won’t be teasing me when she finds I’ve ordered half the menu in my moment of panic. “Sit.”
She smirks, my prickly welcome forgotten. “Yes, sir.”
Yeah, she needs to not say that. Ever. I ignore the blood shooting south, and collect our drinks. With the tray in hand, I glance over at our table, and my hackles shoot skyward.
A suit-clad man with perfectly coiffed blond hair stands far too close to Harriet, looming over her while wearing a smug smile. From her body language, the visitor isn’t welcome, and he isn’t getting the hint.
I march over, white-knuckling the tray, and stop on Harriet’s other side, making it clear she isn’t alone. I’ve no right to be furious. She isn’t mine. This isn’t a pissing contest, yet the protective surge racing through my veins is overwhelming.
Harriet’s shoulders relax when she meets my gaze.
“Babe, c’mon, one drink. It’ll be good to catch up.” The man ignores my arrival, his attention still on Harriet. Even his voice is grating. What really irks me is the familiar way he addresses her.
“And I said no, Peter. N-O.” She narrows her eyes in annoyance. “Which part do you not understand?”
His arrogant smirk grows more irritating. “Always with the snappy comebacks. This is why it didn’t work out.”
This is her ex?
She scoffs. “It didn’t work out because you’re a liar and a cheater.”
“Liar? I told you, it’s business. It isn’t my fault you failed to listen.”
I’m done standing idly by and resist the urge to slam the drinks onto the table.
“Ah, good. I’ll take an Americano to go. A splash of oat milk.” He flicks a credit card from the front pocket of his suit and holds it out to me. “No sugar.”
I scowl at his hand. “Do I look like a fucking barista?”
Harriet squeaks a laugh.
“Excuse me?” His tiny eyes bug out of his head.
The chair legs scrape across the hardwood floor as I drag it closer to Harriet and slowly lower myself. I’ve got at least seven-inches and eighty pounds on this guy, and even with him standing over us, he’s hardly intimidating.
“You’re excused. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, we’re in the middle of something.”
His mouth snaps open and closed like an idiotic goldfish before he scampers away, muttering to himself until he disappears out of the front door.
“See, this is where your whole do-not-approach act comes in handy.” She snickers, and I don’t take offense.
“Please tell me you didn’t date that moron?”
“Guilty.” Harriet dips her chin. “In my defense, he was sweet at first and also works in the music industry. I’m ashamed to say I saw an in, which is a lesson learned.”
“What do you mean?” I don’t move my chair away, and neither does she, leaving a couple of inches between our hands.
A tired sigh blows past her lips. “Peter is a well-known publisher in the city, and we met at an event, got talking, flirted a little, and he offered to pass one of my recordings to producers in his network. Ten months later, nothing.” Her lips curl in disgust. “I swear, I didn’t date him purely for that reason, and I should’ve seen the signs miles away.
He didn’t take me seriously and probably never intended to do anything with my songs.
The cherry on top? I caught him cheating on me with the receptionist. It couldn’t be more cliché. ”
“He shouldn’t have made promises he can’t keep. After that brief interaction, I see why he’s your ex. He’s a fucking tool.”
“Hmm,” Harriet agrees noncommittally before moving her attention to the tray of drinks. “Um, did you place an order for the entire cafe?”
Heat prickles my neck. “Not quite. I wasn’t sure what you like and didn’t want to buy you something that would make you sick.”
“That is…very sweet, Warren. Thank you. I would’ve settled for water.”
I shake my head while reaching for my coffee. “You shouldn’t settle for anything.”
I take a long sip as she stares at me like I have six heads.
She surveys her choices before choosing the berry-red smoothie.
We’re silent as we drink, and when I raise my gaze to meet hers, I’m gifted with a beautiful melody, the same one I listened to blindly when trapped in a haunted house. Is it normal to have a favorite sound?
She claps a hand over her mouth as she laughs freely.
“What’s funny?” I scan the room for a clue.
“You.” She gestures around her mouth. “You’ve got a little something here.”
I wipe at my chin, which only makes her giggle harder.
“Here, let me.” Flowers, sweet fruit, and crisp winter air surround me as she leans over and swipes her index finger above my top lip. She holds up her hand to show it covered in foam.
I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t overly aware of our proximity and how her pupils dilate a little.
The freckle beside her cupid’s bow taunts me.
We stare at one another, the people and surrounding noises fading away as I’m transported back to the Ferris wheel.
Harriet’s eyes sparkle as if we’re sitting underneath a starry sky, reminding me how she teased me as she licked the ice cream from her lips.
If we were to kiss now, would it taste like strawberries? Or raspberries? Or something uniquely her?
A plate smashes, snapping us out of the spell.
Fuck. This cannot happen. She can’t be the Harriet from the fair anymore. I’m certainly not the same man. He was a temporary facade. Whatever pull is skewing my senses has to go.
We’re in unfamiliar waters, and my head is barely above the surface as it is. I can’t allow my attraction for Harriet to weight me down, dragging me deep into the abyss. I’ve been there once before, and I won’t survive it a second time.
“I appreciate you speaking up like you did. I’m not one to act the damsel in distress, but I’m way too tired for Peter’s bullshit.” She smiles nervously. “Onto the reason we’re actually here…”
“Right. Of course.” I settle in my chair and nod for her to begin.
It’s clear she has a speech prepared. “Our lives are about to change drastically, and I appreciate I’ve had longer to process it all than you.
” She raises her chin. “If this co-parenting thing is going to work, we need to find some common ground. I want to avoid a custody agreement and lawyers. We’re equal partners in this, and I think the first step to a successful arrangement is to become friends. ”
I blink, unsure if I heard her correctly. “Friends?”
“Yeah. You know, the people you text in a crisis and share PMS stories with.”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” I reply dryly. “Can’t say I’ve discussed my ovaries with many people.”
“Take this as your official invitation to discuss all your woes with me, awkward boners and all.”
Harriet times the last comment right as I raise my cup to my mouth, and my shocked choking sends coffee spraying across the table like a geyser.
She’s pleased with herself, smirking behind her hand, eyes brimming with mirth.
A foreign sensation takes over my body, and my shoulders shake uncontrollably.
It surprises Harriet, pausing her laughter before she joins in.
Her ability to change the mood so effortlessly, taking an unpleasant encounter and flipping it into a lighthearted moment, is refreshing.
I’d forgotten how good it feels to laugh.
It’s there, with coffee on my pants and a genuine smile on my face, that I’m at ease for the first time since the bombshell of Harriet’s pregnancy dropped.
“I can’t remember the last time I made a new friend, so I might be a little rusty.
But I also want you to know custody arrangements and lawyers are the last thing I’ll be pursuing.
I’ll take your lead.” Because I haven’t the faintest fucking idea of what being friends with her involves. “Whatever you need from me, I’m here.”
“I’m still going to work at the bar.” She abruptly changes the subject and her posture turns defensive. Toward me? “Getting my music out there and building a strong presence online was my goal before, and I want to stick to it even after the baby is here.”
“And I’ll support that.”
She blinks at me. “You will?”
Jesus, what kind of men has she dated?
“Harriet, I’m not your keeper or in any position to tell you what to do.” I lean forward, expression earnest. “I don’t expect you to move in with me, walking around barefoot while carrying my child, or to have dinner ready on the table every night.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “Good, because I can’t cook for shit.”
“Noted.”
The tenseness around us ebbs.
“What are your plans for New Year’s Day?” If I don’t ask now, my mother will only make me call Harriet for an answer. When I told my parents about the baby, they were obviously surprised, hiding their concern well, but they’re also ecstatic for me and itching to meet Harriet.
“Nothing special. Why?”
“My parents host a small get together every year, and they’d love for you to come. It’s nothing extravagant, just some finger food and board games.” I lower my cup before it slips through my clammy fingers. “I hope it’s okay I told them about you.”
“And the baby?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s difficult keeping any secrets from them or my siblings.”
“Mine are the same. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone from my hometown knew already.” She grins fondly. “I’d love to meet them.”
“Great.” It’s a shitty thought, but perhaps with Harriet at my side, even as platonic co-parents, my folks will get off my back about entering the dating pool again.
She releases a breath. “Guess I’m meeting the parents.”