Chapter 22 - Day 4 Bonus Features #2
The café was small and bright, with outdoor tables shaded by enormous umbrellas.
Adrian parked.
We got out.
And for one strange second, walking beside him toward the entrance felt-
normal.
Too normal.
Like this was something we did.
Saturday morning.
Coffee.
Breakfast.
Sunshine.
No Vale Architecture.
No coworkers.
No conference room.
No Mr. Vale.
I immediately stopped thinking about that.
Inside, we joined the short line.
I looked at the menu.
Adrian didn't.
Of course he didn't.
"You know what you want?"
"Food."
"Specific."
"I'll decide."
When we reached the counter, the woman smiled.
"Good morning. What can I get started for you?"
I ordered my waffle.
Strawberries.
Blueberries.
Whipped cream.
Powdered sugar.
Maple syrup.
Adrian ordered an omelette with toast.
Simple.
Of course.
The woman looked between us.
"And anything to drink?"
"Large hot latte," Adrian said. "Whole milk. Two shots of espresso. Two pumps vanilla, one pump caramel, one sugar, light foam, extra hot, whipped cream-but not too much, and cocoa powder sprinkled on top."
I stared at him.
Hearing it was different.
Every morning, a cup had appeared on my desk.
Perfect.
Exactly the way I liked it.
But the cup had always just been-
a cup.
I had never heard him say the order.
Whole milk.
Two shots.
Two pumps vanilla.
One pump caramel.
One sugar.
Light foam.
Extra hot.
Whipped cream, but not too much.
Cocoa powder.
Every stupid, unnecessary detail I had accumulated over years of ordering coffee exactly the way I liked it.
Coming out of Adrian's mouth.
Like he didn't even have to think about it.
That felt different.
Much more different than it should have.
"And black coffee."
Of course.
The woman behind the counter nodded.
"Anything else?"
"That's it."
He reached for his wallet.
I was still staring at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I'm processing."
"What?"
"The fact that you just gave that woman a verbal dissertation on my coffee."
His expression didn't change.
"It's your order."
"I know it's my order, Adrian. How do you know it's my order?"
"I've bought it enough times."
"That's not what I asked."
He handed the woman his card.
I waited.
He took it back.
"Adrian."
"What?"
"Since when do you know my coffee order?"
He looked at me.
"A while."
"How long is a while?"
He picked up the receipt.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I want to know."
We moved away from the counter.
I followed him.
"How long?"
He stopped near an empty table.
Then looked at me.
"Before I started buying it for you."
I stared at him.
"What?"
He pulled out a chair.
I didn't sit.
"You knew my coffee order before you started bringing me coffee?"
"Yes."
"How?"
He sat down.
I remained standing.
"Angelica."
"No. Don't Angelica me. How?"
"You order coffee."
"I am aware."
"I've heard you."
"When?"
He looked toward the counter.
I followed his eyes.
Our drinks weren't ready.
I looked back at him.
"When?"
"Around the office."
My eyebrows pulled together.
"You've heard me order that entire thing around the office?"
"Yes."
"How many times?"
"I don't know."
"Enough to memorize it?"
He didn't answer.
I stared at him.
Something strange settled in my chest.
"How long have you known?"
His jaw shifted.
"A while."
"How long is a while?"
"Long enough."
"That is not an answer."
"It's the one you're getting."
"Why won't you tell me?"
"Your coffee is ready."
I didn't move.
"Adrian."
He stood.
"Coffee."
Coward.
I watched him walk toward the counter.
And suddenly every cup that had appeared on my desk felt different.
Not because he knew my order.
Because apparently-
he had known it long before I knew he was paying attention.
He came back carrying both coffees.
He put mine in front of me.
I looked at it.
Then at him.
I took a sip.
Perfect.
Obviously.
I hated that too.
Our food arrived a few minutes later.
My waffle arrived first.
Adrian looked at it.
Strawberries.
Blueberries.
Whipped cream.
Powdered sugar.
Maple syrup.
Then he looked at me.
"That's breakfast?"
"Yes."
"That's dessert."
"Nobody asked you."
His omelette and toast arrived thirty seconds later.
I looked at his plate.
Then at him.
"Of course."
"What?"
"Nothing. Your breakfast looks exactly like you."
His eyebrows pulled together.
"What does that mean?"
"No unnecessary joy."
He stared at me.
I pointed at his plate.
"Not even one strawberry."
"I don't need a strawberry."
"That's exactly what someone who needs a strawberry would say."
He stared at me.
For a long moment.
Then slowly looked down at his omelette.
As if reconsidering every decision that had led him to breakfast with me.
For a while, we ate.
And something strange happened.
Nothing.
No argument.
No project.
No emergency.
No Maya.
No Ben.
No Ethan.
No Claire watching us thoughtfully from across a conference room.
Just breakfast.
Adrian ate like a normal person.
Which was honestly one of the more surprising developments of the week.
I pointed my fork at him.
"So."
He looked up.
"You actually eat breakfast."
"Apparently."
"You should do this more often."
"Why?"
"Because humans require food."
"I eat."
"Coffee doesn't count."
"I had dinner yesterday."
I narrowed my eyes.
"What?"
"Dinner."
"I heard you."
"Then why did you say what?"
"Because I'm shocked."
He continued eating.
"Did someone make you?"
"No."
"Did you order it?"
"Yes."
"Was it actual food?"
He looked at me.
"Angelica."
"I'm gathering evidence."
"For?"
"To determine whether you can survive without cheerful carrots."
His eyes changed.
And there it was.
The smallest smile.
The dimple.
My stupid heart reacted immediately.
I stared.
I had seen that dimple before.
Once.
At the ice cream shop.
With his children.
But never here.
Never with me.
Adrian Vale did not smile at me.
His mouth twitched.
Almost-smiled.
Threatened to smile.
But this-
this was a smile.
Small.
Real.
And apparently, on top of everything else, the man came with a fucking dimple.
Because being six feet tall, ridiculously handsome, and built like that hadn't been enough.
No.
Apparently God had looked at Adrian Vale and thought,
You know what this asshole needs?
A dimple.
Completely unnecessary.
Deeply unfair.
And much, much worse when the smile showing it was directed at me.
"What?"
I realized I was staring.
"Nothing."
His smile started disappearing.
"No, wait."
His eyebrows pulled together.
"What?"
"I didn't know you came with a smiling feature."
His expression went flat.
"Apparently I do."
"And a dimple."
He stared at me.
"You knew I had a dimple?"
Shit.
"I've seen it."
"When?"
"At the ice cream shop."
He was quiet for a second.
"You noticed."
That sounded entirely too much like an observation.
"You were smiling. I have eyes."
His gaze stayed on mine.
"You've never smiled at me before," I added.
Something in his expression shifted.
I immediately regretted saying that much.
So naturally, I made it worse.
"It's very inconvenient."
"My dimple."
"Yes."
"Is inconvenient."
"Extremely."
"Why?"
I pointed my fork at him.
"Because your face was already doing entirely too much. You didn't need bonus features."
He stared at me.
The corner of his mouth moved again.
And there it was.
The dimple.
"See?" I said. "Unnecessary."
His smile widened by approximately half a millimeter.
"You seem very concerned about it."
"I am. Someone should file a complaint."
"With whom?"
"God, probably."
That did it.
The dimple deepened.
Oh God.
I looked down at my waffle.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"You know what."
"I don't."
Liar.
"Those carrots were ridiculous."
"You ate every single one."
"They were food."
"You specifically said you liked them."
"I said the dinner was good."
"You said especially the cheerful carrots."
"I don't remember that."
I stared at him.
"Oh, now your memory doesn't work?"
He picked up his coffee.
"Selective."
I laughed.
He looked at me over the rim of the cup.
And for a second-
just a second-
he looked happy.
Not CEO happy.
Not I approved a building happy.
Not that tiny almost-smile he gave me when I irritated him.
Just-
happy.
Then he looked away.
And I remembered.
Ten days after today.
That was all.
We reached Solara shortly after eleven.
The site looked different on Saturday.
Quieter.
Still active, but without the weekday swarm of consultants, deliveries, and people moving in every direction.
The sun was bright enough that neither of us removed our sunglasses.
I adjusted the strap of my bag and looked toward the building.
Adrian came around the car carrying the drawings.
He looked at my shoes.
I caught him.