Chapter 43
Chapter forty-three
Yosh
There’s nothing like the scent of coffee beans and cinnamon on a cold day. This little café in the heart of Amsterdam takes me back to winter mornings on campus, hiding in a corner, trying to make myself invisible as I studied my notes with a steaming mug of coffee warming my hands.
The place is filled with people escaping the cold.
I’m sitting at a table by the window, the glass fogged from the temperature difference on either side.
From here, I can see how alive the city is, and I have to say, I’m fascinated by the way Amsterdam moves. It’s a chaotic collection of little events.
Next to the café there’s a group of activists chalking slogans onto the cobblestones. A tram rounds the corner, startling me as it appears out of nowhere.
A couple of tourists jump an inch off the pavement when the bells clang. Those same tourists stop on the bridge to take a selfie, pissing off locals when they block the walkway.
And then there’s also a tulip vendor, two dalmatians walking their owner, and a mom with three kids on her bike. They almost crash into the same path-blocking, almost-run-over-by-the-tram tourists who are now reading their map upside down.
I close my eyes for a moment, something I’ve done more than once today.
I don’t notice Tom until he sets two mugs on the table and drops into the chair beside me.
“Here you go. Your fancy vegan soy-whatever matcha spice no sugar latte. I’m surprised you didn't ask them to leave the liquid out.”
That smug grin, that cocky tilt of his chin. Sometimes I just want to strangle him.
“Two months. Two months of us together and I still haven’t figured out if that’s flirting or a cry for attention.”
“My sincere apologies, love. You do something to me. My filter disappears and suddenly I’m spouting the dumbest shit. I think you could call it a bit of both. I’m a flirt and I always ache for your attention.”
I glance at his mug. Plain black coffee.
“As dark as your soul I presume?”
He clicks his tongue. “See? You can do it too. I love it when you pretend to be mad at me, call me by my last name, and boss me around all at once.”
He wets his lips before taking a sip.
“Piss off, McKenna,”
“That sounds very British coming from that American mouth of yours. Am I corrupting you?”
I really have to try not to laugh. He’s been a little shit all day, which means my Sapphire’s in a good mood. And I get it, he’s back home, in the city that feeds this side of him.
Before I get the chance to respond, someone calls Tom’s name from the other side of the café.
Nothing new. Every street we turn, he gets recognized. By people he knows, but mostly people who know him. That part makes me a little nervous.
Strangers stop him out of nowhere, and Tom never says no. He has this switch he flips that makes everyone feel seen.
It’s genuine, none of it is fake charm. Making people happy fuels his energy, Cameron the fan-cam always included.
It takes getting used to, but I knew what I was signing up for.
As long as they leave me out of it, I’m fine. The last thing I need is people back in the States finding out where I am, and who I'm with.
Luckily, that doesn’t seem to be a problem.
Everyone in this city sees Tom as the ultimate womanizer.
And me? I’m the one hiding in the corner, trying to be invisible, studying the way he twists a crowd around his finger.
When he shines, I know he belongs to the world out there.
But when the lights go out, he belongs to me. Only to me.
The guy who called his name comes over. Tom gets to his feet and pulls him into a hug. He’s at least a head taller than Tom. He smacks Tom on the shoulder, and they hug again.
“Holy Christ, you didn't text you’d come back, fucking wanker!”
Accent—check. Rough language—check. Auburn hair—check. Half-moon wolf tattoo on his neck—check.
“Yosh, this is my nephew Finnegan. Finn, this is Yosh.”
“Nice to meet you, Finn.”
I reach out; as our hands meet, his thumb drags lightly across my palm.
A horny McKenna—check.
Finn joins us, filling Tom in on everything he’s missed. They mostly talk about parties and people I don’t know.
Finn does most of the talking while Tom nods along, offering the occasional approving hum. Tom’s nephew keeps going, barely stopping to breathe.
Someone who talks more than my Sapphire? That feels statistically improbable.
Then again, there’s the faint trace of alcohol in his coffee, and a runny nose that seems unrelated to the cold weather.
Maybe that explains the enthusiasm.
Finn shoves his chair back and stands, wobbling a little. He and Tom go through a quick, almost secret handshake before he turns to me.
“Sorry, gorgeous, I’ve got to get back to the office. Let me take you out after the holidays. I’ll show you a better time in Amsterdam than my uncle ever could. Tom will give you my number. Call me when he gets distracted by a pair of curves.”
What the hell?
The snort that escapes me is pure shock. My eyes fly to Tom.
“Finn, back off!”
Finn rolls his eyes. Tom clamps a hand around his wrist, holding his stare. “I mean it.”
For a second I fear we’re about to have a repeat of the whole Calvin situation, right here in this little café. Tom calms down and lets go. Finn steps back, rubbing his wrist.
“Fine. Fucking cock blocker. See you at Heatherfell.”
“Yeah, love you too, Finn. Don’t tell your mother I’m here, aye?”
Finn flips the finger as he walks off.
My fingers tighten around my mug. I barely tasted the matcha, knocked it back too fast, tense from Finn’s little stunt with my palm.
Should I tell Tom? No, better not. I don’t want to stir up something that doesn’t need stirring. Hopefully Finn understands the boundary now.
Tom takes a sip of his coffee, his shoulders nowhere near relaxed.
“I’m sorry for all the disasters I dragged you into today. I just… I’m sorry.” He lifts his brows, a thin layer of cynicism before he turns to the window.
I feel for him. He’s talking about bringing me here for weeks. So many plans, all these places he wants to show me. And today has been full of surprises, let's call them like that. Most of them weren't even within his control. I need to cheer him up.
“If those were disasters, I’m disappointed. You promised me chaos, McKenna.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a shy smile. “Careful what you wish for, love.”
My hand grips the back of his neck, kneading the tight muscles there.
“Relax. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, I think I’m starting to develop a small crush on Amsterdam.”
His eyes widen in surprise, those irresistible twinkles take over.
“Really?”
“The vibe’s amazing. There’s so much to see, I keep getting distracted. ”
And just like that, his grin is back. “Shall we carry on with the tour, then?”
We leave our mugs at the counter, and like a well-trained boyfriend, Tom holds the door open for me.
As soon as I step outside, I notice the sidewalk glistening. I rub my hands together for warmth and look at the bridge, where the frost has turned the dark green railing mint by now.
“Sapphire, wait.”
I point to the bridge, there's already a thin layer of ice forming on the water underneath. “Can you take a picture with your phone and send it to Tiffy?”
“I think it’s time to get you a smartphone. I’ve never met anyone who only has a dinosaur phone and a pager. Even worse: a work pager.”
I let out an exaggerated scoff. “I don't need a smartphone. Calling and texting is all I need.”
“Only people who don’t want to be found use burners.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be found,” I shoot back. That's the first truth about me I tell him.
He points out a spot on the bridge and I move over, leaning back against the railing.
“Move a little to the left,” I tell him. “That’s my good side. Yeah, just like that. A little more.”
“Yes, Mister Vain. I know what I'm doing.”
It makes me laugh for real, the timing perfect for the photos.
Tom positions his phone at the right angle. He tries a few different perspectives for variety. My fingers curl around the railing, cold seeping straight through the gloves. I do a few poses until he gives me a thumbs-up.
Back at his side, I take the phone and scroll through the shots. The canals, the ice, and my scarf are all showing just how fucking cold it is here. Perfect. Tiffy will love it.
Just as I hit send, the screen glitches.
Strange. The photo goes out anyway.
I look up from the screen, catching the frown between Tom’s brows. He always does that when something’s bothering him. Is it still Finn?
“They look amazing. I love how you always notice the smallest details,” I say, still studying his face. Whatever it was, he hides it behind his artist smile.
“It’s not me, it’s the model. You should let me sketch you. I’m sure we could make something beautiful together.”
“Paint me like one of your French girls,” I tease.
Tom lets out a low whistle, I can practically see the image forming behind his eyes.
“Never been more grateful for the two-hand thing,” he says. “Because the pencil won’t be the only hard thing I’m holding.”
Now I’m the one with the indecent picture in my head. I hide my smile behind my scarf, but I’m pretty sure my eyes sell me out.
Our knuckles touch, pinkies hook. Just for a second because Tom raises his hand to greet someone new.
When I follow his line of sight, I spot a stroopwafel truck on the other side of the canal.
Hints of caramel and pumpkin spice fill my nostrils.
They seem to be selling all kinds of freshly baked goods.
We cross the bridge like moths to a flame.
“Next stop,” Tom says. “You want one?”
My eyes land on the all-vegan menu.
“Finally something I can eat without regret.”
Tom rests his hand on the counter and starts his usual smooth style of conversation. I don’t catch a word, but the girl’s reaction says enough. Surprised, pleased, curious.
She asks something. Probably where he’s been. Tom says Avalon, so I’d guessed right.