Chapter 13 Danger
Danger.
The new barista stood at the edge of our table, her notepad trembling slightly in her grip.
She was young. El thought she was probably still in college, and judging by the way her eyes darted between us and the counter, she was still getting the hang of things.
“So, two mocha lattes. One with almond milk, one with oat milk,” she repeated, her voice shaky.
I could practically hear Lizzie barking at her from behind the counter. This was only her second day, and Lizzie already had her taking orders at tables.
“Yes, thank you,” El and I said in unison.
“Okay… be ready soon.”
She turned quickly and scurried back toward the counter, nearly colliding with a server carrying a tray of their delicious croissants.
El smirked, shaking his head. “Lizzie is torturing the poor girl.”
I shrugged. “She’s gotta learn somehow.”
He sighed. “I guess you’re right.”
“I usually am.”
He scoffed. “Anyway. Now that we’re friends, I wanna plan something for us to do together.”
I arched a brow and teased. “Who said we were officially friends?”
Elliot gave me a knowing look. “You did. It’s been a week, and you’re still here. That pretty much solidifies things.”
Damn it. He was right.
Every day this week, we met for coffee, and honestly, it became the highlight of my day.
The conversations were easy because he was a great listener.
He even gave me some mature business advice, for which I was very grateful.
I kept my personal life under wraps, though, deciding it was best to store the details of my messy breakup to myself.
As far as he knew, I didn’t have a sister, and I was never engaged.
Which, at this point in our building friendship, was for the best.
However, I did learn that he had two brothers, one older and one younger, who both lived with his Dad back in New Orleans.
I tilted my head, playfully. “Eh, you still have until the end of this coffee date to mess things up.”
He laughed, a deep, easy sound that made my chest warm. “True. But until then, besides working, what do you like to do for fun?”
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice as if sharing a secret. “Friends usually know these things about each other.”
He mirrored my movement, matching my tone. “Well, maybe if you talked about something other than the salon, I’d know more about you.”
I scrunched my nose up and leaned back. “Fair enough.”
“Hm.” I took a moment to think before answering. “Um… I love to cook, actually.”
El’s brows lifted. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yeah. My dad used to love to grill, but I was in charge of everything else. I guess I just got used to it. What about you?”
He leaned back in his chair, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I prefer takeout.”
I gave him a pointed look. “I meant, what do you like to do for fun?”
“Oh, right.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “I like watching really old detective movies and shows.”
I blinked. “What?”
He laughed. “Random, right?”
“Completely.” I glanced down at my lap, a small smile pulling at my lips. “My dad liked detective shows too.”
El’s voice softened. “The man had good taste.”
I chuckled a little before looking back up at him. “Why do you like them?”
He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but there was something calmer in his expression now. “I used to watch them all the time with my Dad growing up. He said he used to watch them with my mom, so… I don’t know. It makes me feel closer to her in a way.”
His words hung over, and suddenly, my chest felt heavy.
I thought of Sunday afternoons by the grill, of Daddy handing me a wooden spoon and telling me to “taste as you go.” I thought of the way he always pulled me into a side hug after dinner as we sat on the couch.
He would rub his belly as we watched the same cops run around in pursuit of that week’s villain, then he’d murmur, “We did good today, Ellie.”
I swallowed against the dull ache creeping up my throat, and my eyes burnt with the memories of him. “Yeah… I get that.”
El studied me, his gaze quiet and knowing. “You miss him.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Every day.” I nodded slowly. “But it’s nice to have memories to revisit, right?”
El let out a short, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t know. I never met my mother.”
My eyes widened at my carelessness. He didn’t know his mother? Why didn’t I know that?
Perhaps it was because I spent this entire week talking about my salon and Hair Expo updates instead of getting to know him. Here I was, giving him backlash for not knowing a lot about me, when I didn’t really know a lot about him in return.
I hesitated, feeling full regret for bringing it up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No need to be.”
Still, there was something in his eyes—something heavy. A sadness had settled there, aging his youthful face with sorrow.
“Wanna change the subject?” I offered.
“Please.”
I leaned forward again, resting my elbows on the table. “Okay, but I’m gonna ask something really personal.”
He grinned. “Fire away.”
I hesitated for half a second before deciding to go for it. “Why did you and your ex-wife get divorced?”
His grin didn’t falter, but something in his eyes flickered—briefly, almost microscopic. “You’ve been thinking about that for a while, huh?”
I shrugged, trying to keep my tone casual. “I have, actually.”
“Why?”
I met his gaze. “I’m curious about the type of man I’m getting involved with.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Worried I wouldn’t be a good partner?”
“No, that’s not it.” I studied him. “And stop avoiding the question.”
“Fine,” he sighed, rubbing his jaw. The rough scrape of stubble was audible in the quiet space between us. “We just grew apart.”
I gave him a flat look. “Seriously? Do you think that answer is going to satisfy me?”
“It’s the truth,” he said, his voice measured.
“Half of it,” I countered.
Something in his expression shifted, the air between us tightening. When he spoke again, his tone had an edge to it. “And it’s enough, Ellie.”
I caught the change immediately. The slight tension in his posture, the way his fingers curled into a fist a little too tightly—this reaction was different from when we talked about his mother. The previous softness was replaced with regretful shame.
“Okay,” I said softly, backing off.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before shaking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s fine. I pushed.”
He hesitated before speaking again. “It’s just… It’s a long story, and I don’t think I can explain it all right now.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Well, now I’m interested.”
“Hm. You sure?”
I tilted my head toward the counter, and he followed my gaze, where the new barista was still fumbling with the espresso machine. I chuckled, “We’ve got time before the trainee figures out how to work the machine. Go on.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him before he leaned back in his chair, his expression turning more serious.
“Well, we’d been together since college and got married young.
We were happy together for the most part.
Then, I got diagnosed. I told her right then and there that I didn’t want kids.
It was too big of a risk with passing it on, you know.
It felt irresponsible. And initially, she agreed.
Until our ten-year anniversary came around and she told me she wanted to start a family. ”
My face pulled down at that reveal, and he laughed at that reaction.
“I know, right? I guess she thought I’d grow out of my stance.
So she pushed. And pushed. And I got anxious about the whole thing, but she didn’t care.
Eventually, I gave in, and we tried for months to get pregnant.
But it didn’t work out. That frustration and disappointment built up, and we argued constantly.
The marriage was falling apart. In the end, I had enough of the runaround and the constant compromising, so I did something drastic. ”
“What did you do?” I asked.
His jaw tensed slightly before he admitted, “I got a vasectomy behind her back.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“El! What were you thinking?” My voice rose slightly, but I quickly reined it in. “I mean, I understand not wanting kids, but to have a procedure like that without telling her—”
He shook his head. “It was fucked up.”
“It was!”
“I know,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I wish I had handled it differently, but I was scared. I thought it made sense. Unfortunately, she didn’t see it that way.”
“She found out on her own, or you told her?”
His fingers drummed lightly against the table. “I told her. The next day, her wedding ring was on my pillow, and her bags were packed by the time I got home. The divorce papers came a month later in the mail.”
I studied him, searching for any sign of remorse. “Do you regret the decision?”
He shook his head without hesitation. “Not one bit. I regret how I went about it, of course, but I don’t think not having a kid was a bad thing.
Diabetes is not always easy to deal with, and I would feel guilty about potentially putting my kid through that.
But in regards to my ex, I don’t think we had a bad marriage either.
We just didn’t agree on something that wasn’t up for negotiation.
That’s why it’s so important to know exactly what you’re getting into when you marry someone. ”
I exhaled, nodding. “I hear that.”
The trainee brought our drinks over, setting them down with careful hands before retreating to the counter. I lifted my cup and took a sip, only to pause at the strange aftertaste. Across from me, El frowned into his own drink.
“Your’s taste weird too?” he asked, his dark brows pulling together.
I smacked my lips. “Yup.”
El exhaled, shaking his head. “Lizzie has now started torturing us.”
I let out a soft laugh, setting my cup down with a quiet clink.
El leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him as his fingers tapped absently against the table.
“What about you, Ellie? You want kids?”