Chapter 7
HARLOW
Pablo, Poppy, and I work in unison in the busy coffee shop. It’s almost a work of art how easily we mesh and manage to keep things moving at a fast pace. It’s no wonder, Tessa the owner and Jasper’s mom, always tries to have the three of us scheduled together to handle the busiest times of day.
“Is Hot Nerd stopping by?” Poppy stirs an iced coffee and caps it with a lid. “He’s normally been here by now. Corey!” She calls out the customer’s name for the iced coffee.
I shake my head, adding milk to the macchiato I’m making. “He’s in LA today so he won’t be back until this evening. Tiffany!” I yell out for the customer and pass the yellow-blond woman with bubble gum pink lips her coffee while she practically yells into her cellphone.
The door chimes with more customers entering, but the hush that falls over the place is unexpected.
This place is never quiet. Poking my head around the espresso machine, I quickly lay my eyes on the culprit.
Spencer stands in the back of the line, head downcast, his copper waves poking out from beneath a faded blue LA baseball cap.
He’s dressed like he was when he picked up Roe this morning, baggy athletic shorts and an old t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
Despite his inconspicuous look, he’s anything but.
Everyone in the coffee shop is murmuring about Spencer Shaw. The Spencer Shaw one lady whispers in awe, amongst their midst.
Spencer catches my gaze and steps out of line, walking right for me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What does he want?
I wipe my palms on my blue apron.
“Hey.” His voice is a tad breathy for some reason. “I was wondering if we could talk?”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
He shrugs, giving me that mega-watt smile that has women all over the world swooning, but not me. Not anymore. “Because we haven’t in a while.”
“I’m kind of busy.” I point out. “I’m at work.” I wave my hand around me to encompass the chaotic shop. “I can’t exactly leave them one woman down.”
Poppy scurries over to me, placing her chin on my shoulder and hugging me from behind.
“Don’t worry, girl. Pablo and I will hold down the fort while you’re gone.
It’s time for your break anyway. Here, eat a sandwich.
” She grabs one of the ready-made turkey sandwiches from the refrigerator to my left and shoves it in my hands.
“Go, go.” She waves me on with a delighted smile, enjoying my misery way too much.
Knowing I have no choice now, I turn back to Spencer, forcing a smile. “Well, I guess I have time to talk.”
“Somewhere more private?” There’s a pleading note to his voice and looking around it’s easy to see why.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, is staring at him.
I’m sure a few people might not know who he is, but they’re drawn in by other’s curiosity.
I spot a couple of people with their phones up, obviously recording or snapping photos so they can post on their social media later with proof that they were in the same coffee house as Spencer Shaw.
I’m surprised the paparazzi haven’t shown up yet, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.
This right here was one of my biggest deterrents when it came to Spencer’s sudden desire to become Hollywood royalty. I don’t like being the subject to this kind of scrutiny.
“There’s a room in the back,” I finally mutter. “This way.” I point him toward the hinged, hip height door built into the counters so he can come back.
He falls into step behind me as Poppy sing-songs, “Have fun.”
I’m going to throat punch her later.
In the breakroom, I swipe a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and take a seat at the table against the wall. Spencer pulls out the seat across and sits down.
“What brings you to these parts?” I sweep my fingers lazily, looking down at the saran-wrapped sandwich. I should be hungry, starving, but my appetite is gone.
I can’t believe I once spent so much time in this coffee shop with him as teenagers in love, blissfully ignorant of the real world, and everything that comes with it.
The face that stares back at me is more sculpted and angular than it used to be.
His eyes have a few lines forming around the corners and his cheeks have a light dusting of reddish-brown hued hair.
When we were young, we could talk about anything for hours on end, just happy to be together. I wanted to spend every moment with him and couldn’t get enough.
Now, my stomach always feels queasy when we need to have a conversation.
Spencer is a good guy, I would never lie and say he’s not, but we’re not together anymore and we do share a daughter but we’re completely out of balance when it comes to money.
It might seem stupid, but any time he wants to ‘talk’ my brain immediately goes to what if he wants full custody?
I can’t imagine Spencer ever taking Roe away from me, but that what if hangs over my head like a shiny guillotine.
I would never be able to afford an attorney that could compete with his.
“I was in town,” he jokes with a smile, interrupting my thoughts.
I roll my eyes. “Dumb joke.” But I smile anyway, hoping I don’t look as tense as I feel. Unwrapping the sandwich with shaky fingers, I ask hesitantly, “What do you want?”
He takes his hat off, smoothing his fingers through his shaggy hair in need of a trim and then replaces the hat, only backwards this time. A weary sigh echoes in his chest. “We can’t just talk and hang out like we used to?”
I narrow my eyes, peeling the chunks of avocado off the sandwich.
Why is avocado on everything these days?
“I’m at work,” I point out, holding his gaze.
He cocks his head to the side and reaches for my water bottle, removing the cap and taking a large sip.
“That was my water,” I accuse.
A tiny smirk plays on his lips as he slides the bottle back to me, but keeps a hold on the cap, spinning it around his long elegant fingers.
“I don’t have cooties, Harlow. Besides, we’ve swapped a lot more than spit in the past.” Damn him, now I’m blushing. “You should eat.” He dips his head at my sandwich. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”
I wish he’d stop dragging this along and get to the point. There has to be some point, right? I guess, but maybe not. Not everything has to have an ulterior motive.
I frown down at the turkey sandwich like it’s personally offended me somehow before picking it up and taking a giant bite. Chew. Swallow. “Happy now?”
He arches a brow, not a single hair out of place. I bet he’s forced to get them waxed.
“Immensely.” He sets the bottle cap down but taps his fingers against the tabletop. “You look good.”
This time it’s me arching a brow, disbelief written on my face. “Thanks, the steam from the machines is basically like a five-star facial only free.”
He blows out a breath, leaning back in the chair. “It was a compliment.”
I shrug, taking another bite of sandwich. “Doesn’t change the fact that I look like shit right now.”
He narrows his eyes, staring at me unblinking for a moment. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve always thought you were beautiful no matter what.” I nearly bite down on my tongue. “I miss you, Harlow.”
I push my half-eaten sandwich away. I don’t like where this conversation is headed. It wouldn’t be the first time Spencer has tried to get back together. “I’m with Jameson now.”
“I know.” He stares at me and I swear I start to wither a bit under his too-blue eyes. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or that I still love you.”
I wish I could say I was surprised by his declaration but I’m not.
Ever since we broke up four years ago, he’s made it very clear that I was the one who broke things off and he never wanted to and hasn’t stopped loving me since.
I still love him too, how could I not, but I’m not in love with him and there lies the difference.
But that hasn’t stopped him from occasionally trying to convince me to give us a shot again.
“I’m with Jameson,” I repeat slowly like he’s too dense to grasp the words.
“We were friends once. I want us to be friends again. I miss you. Is that so wrong?”
We both know we were only ‘friends’ because we both had a crush on one another.
A long echoing sigh blows out of my lips. “Spencer, you and I … we … it…” I struggle to find words but none of them are right.
“We can be friends,” he continues, ignoring my stuttering. “There’s nothing wrong with that. We have history, sure, and a daughter. But don’t you think for her sake we should be friends?”
I frown at his words. My fingers work to remove the tomato from the sandwich I most likely won’t be finishing. “You make it sound like we’re enemies.”
He shrugs. “We’re not, but things could be better with us, don’t you agree?” He cocks his head to the side like an eager golden retriever waiting for a treat.
I don’t answer, because he’s right. They could be better and that’s entirely on me. I’ve kept my distance from Spencer over the years, keeping conversations solely to Roe besides basic pleasantries.
He continues, ignoring my silence like it isn’t glaringly obvious. “Come on, Low, let’s try to get to a better place.”
I purse my lips at the nickname he hasn’t uttered in years. “How do we do that?”
He grins like somehow, he’s already won, though I had no idea this was any competition of sorts.
“We’ll start simple.” I blink at him, waiting for him to elaborate. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of asking. “Are you working tomorrow?” I shake my head. “Meet me at my house after I take Roe to school.”
I shake my head, knowing this is bound to be a bad idea.
“Okay.”