Chapter 4Phoebe
4
Phoebe
T he early morning sunlight is bright around Cafecito Dreams when I push open the door. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops me, and I inhale deeply, savoring the scent that’s become a welcome part of my daily routine. I wonder if Mikhail will come today, but I already know he will. He’s on his third coffee card, and he’s visited every day for the last three weeks.
“Morning, Phoebe,” says Marco, my coworker, as he wrestles with a finicky espresso machine. “Can you give me a hand with this?”
I nod, dropping my bag behind the counter and joining him. We work to unclog the steamer while he chats about his latest blind date with a guy who couldn’t stop talking about himself. I want to focus, but my mind drifts to Mikhail and Masha. The memory of Masha’s playful antics brings a smile to my face, and I wonder what adventures they might be having this morning.
“Earth to Phoebe,” he says, waving a hand in front of my face. “Where’d you go just now?”
I blink, refocusing on the task at hand. “Sorry. Just thinking about a dog I walk sometimes.”
Marco chuckles. “Must be some dog to put that dreamy look on your face.”
I’m about to respond when the door chimes again. My heart skips to see Mikhail striding in, his presence commanding attention even in the early morning lull. He’s impeccably dressed as always, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders and athletic build.
We look at each other, and he flashes that devastatingly charming smile that never fails to make my knees weak. I smooth down my apron, suddenly very aware of the coffee stains dotting the fabric.
“Good morning, Phoebe,” he says. “I hope I’m not too early for my caffeine fix.”
I shake my head, my cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Not at all. What can I get for you today?”
Mikhail rests his palms on the counter to examine the menu before shrugging. “I’m feeling adventurous. Why don’t you surprise me with your favorite blend?”
“Are you sure?” I ask, already reaching for the beans. “My tastes can be a bit... unconventional.” I don’t want to tell him what that really means. For now, it’s just about coffee.
His laugh is a deep, rich sound that fills the café. “I trust your judgment. Surprise me.”
I nod, turning to the espresso machine with the intention of impressing him. He studies me while I work, watching my every move. It’s both thrilling and nerve-wracking.
“So, Phoebe,” he says as I froth the milk, “Tell me more about yourself. I’m curious about the woman behind the excellent coffee.”
I glance over my shoulder, catching his gaze as I silently wonder why it’s taken him almost three weeks to ask me a truly personal question. Most mornings, we chat about the weather or other inconsequentials, but it often feels like there are so many words trapped inside that we want to speak. Or maybe I’m just projecting. “What would you like to know?” I ask.
“Everything,” he says simply, and the intensity in his expression makes me believe he means it.
I inhale sharply, focusing on finishing his drink before I speak. “I was born and raised here in Miami, but my parents are both Scottish. They moved here just before I was born.”
“Scottish?” he says, his interest clearly piqued. “That explains the lovely lilt in your voice. Do you visit Scotland often?”
I shake my head, a wistful smile tugging at my lips. “Not as often as I’d like, but I grew up surrounded by Scottish culture. My mum made sure of that.”
When I hand him his coffee, our fingers brush, and a jolt of electricity seems to pass between us. It’s enough to make me pause, but he’s too busy with his coffee to notice my reaction.
He takes a sip, his lips curling up in a smile. “This is exceptional,” he says, genuine appreciation in his voice. “What’s in it?”
I grin, pleased by his reaction. “It’s a blend of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe and Guatemalan beans, with a hint of cardamom and a splash of coconut milk. I call it the Highland Sunrise.”
Mikhail raises an eyebrow. “Impressive. You have quite the talent, Phoebe. Have you ever thought of opening your own café?”
My heart swells at his compliment, and before I know it, I’m pouring out my dreams to him. “Actually, I’ve always wanted to open a Scottish cultural center and shop. A place where people can experience a bit of Scotland right here in Miami. With a café, of course, serving traditional Scottish treats alongside specialty coffees. I think it could really take off if it was done right.”
Mikhail listens intently, nodding along. “That sounds wonderful. What’s stopping you?”
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “Oh, you know. Money, mostly, and finding the right location. It’s just a pipe dream for now.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” he says, his voice firm but kind. “You clearly have the passion and the skill. Dreams like that are worth pursuing.”
His words warm me from the inside out, and I end up sharing more about my Scottish heritage, growing animated when I describe the legends and traditions I grew up hearing about and experiencing.
He asks thoughtful questions, clearly genuinely engaged in the conversation. For a moment, I forget we’re in a busy café where I work. It feels like we’re in our own little world.
“Phoebe?” Juanita suddenly snaps at me. “Stop chatting and get back to work. There are customers waiting. If you want to stand around, you can do it at the unemployment office.”
I jump, startled by her sudden appearance. “Sorry, Juanita. I’ll get right on it.”
Mikhail’s expression darkens as he turns to face my boss. He says something in rapid Spanish, his tone firm and commanding. I catch the words “respeto” and “empleada,” but my limited Spanish fails me for the rest.
Juanita’s pupils dilate, and she nods quickly before hurrying back to her office. I stare at Mikhail, both impressed and a little unnerved by the exchange.
“What did you say to her?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
His expression softens as he looks back at me. “Just a gentle reminder about the importance of treating employees with respect. You shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of behavior.”
I’m touched by his concern, but before I can respond, the door chimes again, signaling the arrival of the morning rush.
“I should get back to work,” I say reluctantly.
Mikhail nods. “Of course. Thank you for the excellent coffee and even better company, Phoebe. I look forward to our next chat.”
As he leaves, I hate that he has to go. There’s something about him that both thrills and unsettles me. It’s unnerving but exciting, and turning to serve the next customer, a smile lingers on my face.
The rest of the morning flies by in a whirl of espresso shots and pastries. To my surprise, Juanita is noticeably kinder, even offering a rare word of praise for my latte art. As I wipe down the counter during a lull, I wonder about Mikhail and the effect he seems to have on people. Who is he, really? And why do I feel so drawn to him?
A few days later, I guide Masha through the lush park two blocks from the dog park. We’ve branched out and explored Brickell a bit more in the last several days. She doesn’t seem to mind her routine changing, and I figure Mikhail won’t be too irritated if he finds out.
We still stop at the dog park, but our visits are shorter. There’s still a general air of unwelcome directed toward me from the dog owners, and Masha seems to take or leave canine companionship, though she likes her golden retriever friend, Bach, when he’s there.
Today, her brindle coat gleams in the sunlight, and her one floppy ear bounces with each step. The park buzzes with activity. Joggers pounding the pavement, children shrieking with laughter on the playground, and other dog walkers chatting amiably.
A vibrant flyer catches my eye, its bold colors standing out against the community board’s weathered wood. I tug gently on Masha’s leash, and we pause to investigate. The flyer advertises amateur cooking classes at a nearby community center. “Oh,” I say aloud while reading more. They’re also recruiting instructors for a small stipend.
Images of steaming haggis, buttery shortbread, and rich Cullen skink dance through my mind. I dig through my bag, searching for my phone and quickly take a picture of the flyer. I’m already buzzing with ideas for Scottish cuisine lessons.
“What do you think, Masha?” I ask, scratching behind her ear. “Should I give it a shot?”
Masha’s tail wags in response, and I laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
We continue our walk, the warm breeze carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers. Masha trots happily beside me, her nose twitching as she takes in the myriad of smells.
Suddenly, her fully functional ear perks up, and she begins to tug on the leash with newfound excitement. I stumble forward, caught off-guard by her sudden burst of energy. “Whoa, girl. What’s got you so worked up?”
I look up and forget how to breathe for an instant. Mikhail is jogging toward us, his muscular form glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He’s wearing form-fitting running shorts and a tight T-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. My cheeks flush taking in the sight of him.
He slows to a stop in front of us, wearing a broad smile. “Phoebe, what a pleasant surprise,” he says, his accent more pronounced as he catches his breath. “I didn’t know you and Masha came to this park.”
I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly very aware of my own appearance—yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt, my hair thrown up in a messy bun. “Mikhail, hi. I didn’t expect to see you here.” I shuffle awkwardly. “I hope you don’t mind me shaking up her routine a bit. She seems to like to explore.”
“No, but do make sure my security team knows your usual paths.” His tone leaves no chance for me to protest that edict. Not that I’d dare to anyway.
He crouches down to greet Masha, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Hello, my sweet girl,” he whispers, scratching her belly as she rolls over. “Have you been good for Phoebe?”
Watching their interaction, warmth spreads through me. Focusing on his fingers, the warmth isn’t just tender affection, and I have to swallow before I can speak. “She’s been an absolute angel. We’ve really bonded over these past few weeks.”
Mikhail stands to look at me. “I can see that. She’s made remarkable progress with you, Phoebe. You have a gift.”
His praise sends a thrill through me. “Thank you,” I say, ducking my head shyly. “I’ve always loved animals. They just... get me, you know?”
“It’s the same for me. They bring comfort where people often only bring pain.” His expression is thoughtful. “They have a way of seeing into our souls, don’t they? Cutting through all the pretense and seeing us for who we truly are.”
The depth of his words surprises me, and I sway slightly, drawn to the intensity in his voice and gaze. “Exactly.”
We stand there for a moment, the sounds of the park fading into the background. He clears his throat, breaking the spell. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
My pulse quickens. “Oh?”
He runs a hand through his hair, and I’m struck by the gesture. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look anything less than completely composed. “I was wondering if you might like to go out sometime? On a proper date, I mean?”
My mind races. A date? With Mikhail? Part of me wants to jump at the chance, but doubt creeps in. He’s older, successful, and incredibly handsome. What could he possibly see in me? “I... I don’t know, Mikhail. Are you sure?”
His brow creases. “Of course, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrug, feeling small. “It’s just... You’re you, and I’m...me. We’re from different worlds. Different ages, even. Is it okay?”
He steps closer, resting his hand lightly on my arm. The touch sends sparks through my skin. “Phoebe, look at me.” I raise my gaze to meet his. “You’re kind, intelligent, and beautiful. Any man would be lucky to take you out. I’m just hoping I’m fortunate enough to be that man, as long as you don’t think I’m too old for you.”
His words wash over me, chasing away my insecurities. I look down at Masha, who’s watching us with her head tilted to the side. She gives a soft “woof” as if offering her approval.
I exhale raggedly and smile up at Mikhail. “No, age has little to do with someone’s ability to have a good time. I’d love to go on a date with you.”
His answering grin is dazzling. “Wonderful. How about Friday night? I know a lovely restaurant I think you’ll enjoy.”
I quickly agree, and he asks for my phone so he can put in his number. Thus far, we’ve only communicated through the dog-walking app or in person. Our fingers brush when I hand him my phone. The simple touch sends a spiral of desire through me, and my stomach tightens.
“I’ll text you the details,” he says. “Until then.” He looks at Masha. “You don’t mind seeing her home while I finish my jog?”
“Of course not.” Cutting short the walk would mean losing fifty dollars, but that’s not the reason I agree. I love spending time with her… and him.
He gives Masha one last pat before jogging off, leaving me standing there with my heart thumping like a drum and wearing a goofy grin on my face.
I watch him disappear down the path, and reality starts to set in. I have a date with Mikhail Sokolov. Handsome, mysterious, wealthy Mikhail Sokolov. What am I going to wear? What will we talk about? What if I make a fool of myself?
Masha nudges my hand with her nose, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. I look down at her big amber eyes, full of trust and affection. “You’re right, girl,” I say, giving her an affectionate scratch. “No use worrying about it now. We’ll just take it one step at a time.”
With a lighter heart, we continue our walk through the park. The sunshine seems brighter and the birds’ songs sweeter. When we round a bend in the path, I spot the community board again. The cooking class flyer catches my eye once more, and I smile.
Maybe it’s time to start actively pursuing my dreams.
All of them.