3. Susan
Chapter three
Susan
T he bell above the door chimed a familiar tune as I stepped into Rosewood Cafe, the scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon teasing my senses. My heart was doing an awkward dance, fluttering between excitement and sheer terror. I scanned the room for my mystery date.
It was then that my gaze locked onto a figure etched deep in the archives of my teenage diary. Nate Reynolds, Emily's older brother, who unknowingly starred in all my high school daydreams. He sat there with his phone in hand, looking as handsome as ever.
"Is this some kind of cosmic joke?" I muttered under my breath. The idea of fleeing crossed my mind, but before I could retreat, our eyes met.
His expression mirrored mine—a mix of surprise and something I dared not decipher. Nate's eyes widened a fraction, and for a moment, he seemed to falter like the steady doctor had misplaced his usual composure.
"Get it together, Susan," I chided myself silently. Just stay cool. You've got this.
I took a deep breath and willed my legs to move. His lopsided smile still made my knees weak .
Nate casually sat his phone on the table and stood up as I approached, his smug composure back in full swing.
"Hi, Nate," I managed to say, a smile squeezing its way through the nervousness.
"Hey, Susan." His voice was calm, a gentle tone that always seemed to ease others. "I guess the app has a sense of humor."
"Or a twisted sense of irony," I quipped back, trying to match his lightness.
Nate pulled out my chair, ever the gentleman. This was not how I imagined my first date in years going—not even close. I took a seat, my pulse still fluttering as our eyes met again.
We sat down simultaneously, and I couldn't help but steal quick glances at him – the way his dark hair fell just over his forehead, how his blue eyes seemed more pronounced against the wooden backdrop of the cafe wall. It was all too easy to let my thoughts drift back to those teenage years when I'd scribble 'Mrs. Susan Reynolds' in the margins of my notebooks, only to erase it moments later.
"So, um, how've you been?" Nate's voice broke into my thoughts.
"Good, good. The library's been keeping me busy," I said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "And you?"
"Same old. The hospital's always bustling." He tapped his fingers on the table, a rhythmless beat betraying his nerves.
"Nice weather we're having," I blurted out, cringing internally at the dryness of my words. Was I really resorting to talking about the weather?
"Definitely. Spring's finally showing up, huh?" He glanced out the window where the evening sun cast a golden hue over Rivermint Cove's quaint streets.
"Sure is. Love the... uh, blossom smell." My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Was 'blossom smell' even a thing?
"Me too," he agreed, his lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. Did he find my awkwardness amusing or endearing? I hoped for the latter but expected the former.
As our conversation stumbled forward, I caught myself watching the way he held his coffee cup – with a kind of gentle sureness. I remembered Emily telling me once how Nate would practice sutures on oranges during med school; his hands were always steady and precise. And now here he was, probably wondering how an app could think we were a match.
"I never thought I'd be sitting across from you at Rosewood Cafe on a... well, you know," I said, trailing off.
"Date?" he supplied, the word hanging between us like a delicate soap bubble, ready to pop.
I was about to respond when the cafe door swung open, the cheerful bell above it jangling. My stomach dropped as I recognized the blond-haired woman gliding in.
Tiffany Wells, Rivermint Cove's resident socialite and Nate's number-one fan, locked eyes with me, and hers narrowed into a glare. Before I could react, she made a beeline for our table.
"Of all the coffee shops in Rivermint Cove," I muttered under my breath, watching as Tiffany's gaze sharpened upon seeing us together. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor like a metronome, counting down to an unavoidable confrontation.
Tiffany nearly purred as she stopped beside us, batting her obviously fake eyelashes. "Nate! Fancy seeing you here." Her gaze flitted to me, her tone cooling. “And Susan, what a surprise. I thought you were Emily’s little friend."
I shrunk under her scrutiny, cursing my horrible luck. Of course, she would show up and get the wrong idea.
"We were just catching up," Nate explained with an air of nonchalance that contrasted sharply with the tension I felt. "It's been a while since we've had the chance to chat."
Tiffany's smile never faltered, but it was evident that she didn't buy it for a second. Her curiosity was as plain as the gleam in her eyes. "I didn't realize you two were close."
"Life's full of little surprises." I forced a smile while wishing I could disappear into the depths of my chair. My hands fidgeted with the napkin on my lap, twisting it into a tight spiral.
"Indeed, it is." She locked her eyes onto mine, searching for something I wasn't prepared to reveal.
"Tiffany," Nate's voice cut through the tension. "I appreciate you stopping by, but Susan and I were just getting to the heart of something pretty important."
Her brows knit together, a frown tugging at the corners of her perfectly glossed lips. The look she shot me was sharp enough to slice through concrete. It was a look that said she wasn't used to being sidelined, especially not for someone like me.
She put on a strained smile that looked like she had just had an injection of botox and couldn’t move her face. "I wouldn't dream of interrupting." She cast one last lingering look before finally turning away, leaving a trail of expensive perfume and unspoken questions behind her.
As Tiffany's presence receded, I allowed myself a quiet exhale, not realizing how tightly I'd been holding my breath. Nate's gaze met mine, a wordless conversation passing between us—one of relief, shared disbelief, and a hint of newfound friendship.
Nate gave me a reassuring smile. "Well, that was..."
"Awkward? Mortifying?" I supplied, eliciting a laugh from him.
"I was going to say 'unfortunate,' but yes, awkward and mortifying work too."
We laughed together, bonding over the absurdity of Tiffany's dramatic entrance and exit. Though my cheeks still burned from her scrutinizing gaze, I could feel myself relaxed again in Nate's presence.
"I'm impressed at how you handled that," I admitted. “You were so composed."
Nate shrugged, a glint of humor in his eyes. "Occupational hazard. I've had plenty of practice dealing with overbearing personalities."
I couldn't help but giggle. "Well, thank you. If I were alone, I probably would've just pretended to get a fake phone call to escape."
"Anytime," he laughed. "I could tell she was making you uncomfortable."
I was touched by his thoughtfulness. Nate had been kind when we were younger, but he was a little aloof and self-centered. I was seeing a new protective, assertive side to him that I found surprisingly attractive.
We settled back into easy conversation. The earlier awkwardness was gone.
For the first time, I felt like I was getting to know Nate beyond his role as Emily's brother. And the more we talked, the more captivated I became.
"So, it turns out we both have a thing for lavender mochas," I said as we sipped our intricately crafted drinks. "Who knew?"
Nate grinned. "I didn't peg you for having such adventurous taste in coffee."
"Are you saying I seem boring?" I feigned mock offense.
"Not at all," he replied seriously. “I just never saw this quirky side of you before, but I like it."
I told him about my love for discovering hole-in-the-wall cafes and their unique drink creations.
Nate leaned back in his chair, a familiar jazz tune humming quietly on his lips. "You surprise me," he began, mischief sparkling in his blue eyes. "Here I was thinking you stuck to the classics: books and black coffee."
"Appearances can be deceiving," I replied, matching his playful tone. "While I do love a good classic, there's something exciting about trying new things."
"Well, in that case," he proposed, raising his cup to clink against mine, "to trying new things."
Flushed from the laughter and warmth of our conversation, I tapped my cup against his and echoed, "To trying new things."
Nate listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and making me feel truly seen. Soon, I found myself talking about my dreams of starting a blog and the challenges I faced putting myself out there.
"You should do it," Nate nudged gently. "I can see how much you love reading and writing. "
In turn, he confided in me about his own struggles - the pressures of being a doctor and his perfectionist tendencies. I was struck by his honesty and humility. Underneath his charm lay a complexity I never expected.
"You really love what you do, don't you?" My admiration grew with each story he shared.
"More than anything." I could see a softness touching his features as he spoke about his work. "It's not just a job. It's a part of who I am.”
For a fleeting second, I allowed myself to imagine this wasn't our only date—that maybe, just maybe, Nate Reynolds saw something in me beyond the quiet librarian he thought he knew.
But before I could linger on the thought, he cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "Speaking of work. I should probably head home," he glanced at his watch. "Early shift tomorrow."
I tamped down the disappointment that threatened to seep into my words. "Thank you for tonight, Nate. It was...unexpectedly nice."
"Likewise." He stood and offered me a hand up. "And Susan? About that blog—I meant what I said. You should write it."
We made our way to the door. Nate reached out, his fingers brushing against mine as he pulled the door open, sending an involuntary shiver up my arm.
"Thank you." I stepped past him onto the sidewalk, trying to hide the thrill I felt from his touch.
"Goodnight, then." He offered a half-wave, awkwardness creeping into his voice.
"Goodnight, Nate. "
And with that, he was gone, swallowed up by the shadows of the evening. I wrapped my arms around myself, taking the first steps toward my house, which wasn’t too far from town. The familiar streets of Rivermint Cove were quiet, allowing me the space to think.
I had always seen Nate through the lens of distant admiration, a figure just out of reach. But tonight, he was tangible. It was strange as if the world had tilted slightly on its axis.
I paused outside, staring at the house, its windows glowing with the soft light of domesticity. In one deep breath, I tried to suck in the courage that seemed to have deserted me somewhere between Nate's smile and his awkward goodnight.
My key turned in the lock with a satisfying click, but the warmth that welcomed me did little to thaw the frost of doubt encasing my heart. I hung my keys on the key rack beside the door and crept to my room, trying not to disturb my mom. It was awkward living with my mom, but when my brother left for the military, it just made sense to move back home. My mom never liked living alone, plus she couldn’t really afford to keep the house by herself.
"Ridiculous," I murmured to the empty room, chiding myself for the flicker of hope that danced perilously close to reality. Nate Reynolds, the epitome of compassion wrapped in a disarmingly handsome package, had no reason to call again. Our date was a product of chance, a quirk of technology – nothing more.
Of course, I would tell Emily everything. The thought twisted in my gut, souring the remnants of coffee that lingered on my tongue. We'd laugh about it, her laughter more genuine than mine, while I'd conjure up every ounce of indifference I could muster. "Imagine being matched with your brother on ' Find Your Mate on a Blind Date' ! What are the odds?" I’d say, my voice light, betraying nothing of the secret wish that nestled deep within me, a wish that he might feel even a fraction of what I felt.
Slipping out of my jacket, I draped it over the back of a chair. The mirror by the door caught my reflection, blue eyes staring back at me, searching for the strength to face tomorrow. I'd go back to my books, to the quiet predictability of Dewey Decimal numbers and hushed corridors. There, in the ordered rows of literature, I could pretend that Nate's gaze didn't ignite something wild within me, that his presence wasn't a song I longed to hear on repeat.
"Get a grip, Susan," I scolded my reflection. A rueful smile tugged at my lips as I watched the hopeful gleam in my eyes dim into resignation. He was just being polite, wasn’t he? That’s what people do when they realize they’ve accidentally stumbled on a date with their little sister's best friend.
I reached for the light switch, plunging the room into darkness, save for the moonlight that spilled through the window. The moonlight cast shadows that played across the floor like whispers of what might have been.
In the quiet of my room, the world outside seemed a distant memory, a realm where anything was possible. But here, surrounded by my carefully curated sanctuary, reality lay bare. Dreams were luxuries that someone like me couldn’t afford to indulge in.