20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Thea
“ S o, wait, you fucked… all over your house basically, ate pumpkin pie naked in bed, talked until five in the morning, and then he left you… a note?” Ripley’s voice booms through the speakers of my car, sounding more skeptical with each word.
“Okay, you make it sound like the note part is bad. Is a note bad? Was it weird to leave a note?” My heart starts to race as I enter my second bout of panic over this today.
“Deep breath, babe.” He gives me a second, listening to make sure I’m doing exactly what he told me to. “A note isn’t necessarily bad . But he’s a chef. Who promised you dinner. And then fucked you instead… so I guess I expected him to wake up and cook you breakfast, not leave you a note.”
I nod along as he speaks; he isn’t wrong. I would have loved a morning-after breakfast. Or even just to wake up next to him, wrapped in his arms. I got neither of those. And for that reason alone, I’m spiraling. Again.
“Tell me again what the note said.”
I reach over for it while at the stoplight right before Grayce’s Café. Once I have it in my hand, the light turns green, and I push on the gas before reading the note to him. I have it clutched in my hand on the steering wheel, turning my head slightly to make sure I read it to him exactly as it was written.
“It says, and I quote, ‘Lemon—last night was amazing, leaving early so I can start tying up some loose ends in Seattle. See you later tonight,’” I recite to him, pulling into the parking lot of Grayce’s.
“Hmm… okay…” he muses back to me.
“No. No. You cannot say ‘hmm… okay…’ and expect me to not panic. What does that even mean?”
“It means… I don’t know. It sounds kind of promising? But also confusing. What would he need to leave early to tie up? Seattle is three hours behind us. It just seems like an odd thing to say.”
I’ve got the car parked in front of the café now with my arms crossed over each other on top of the steering wheel, my chin perched on them as I chew my bottom lip to shreds. “Yeah…” is my only reply, not really knowing what else to say at this point.
Last night was amazing, but I can’t pretend like I wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everything felt too good, too right. The note seems harmless enough. There’s nothing specifically concerning about it, but matched with the internal dread I’ve felt since Mr. Elsher reminded me of our situation, it feels like an omen. And not one of the good ones.
Does it mean he’s going back to Seattle soon?
And if he is, will he come back to me?
Is this me losing him again?
I pause my downward spiral as I grab my purse from the passenger seat and disconnect my phone, bringing it to my ear as I push open my car door.
“I’m sure it’s fine, Thea.”
“Yeah, probably…” I let my voice trail off, shutting the door with a thud. I push a loose strand of hair behind my ear before the wind can whip it into my face. “Anyway, tell me about your trip. Did you get to see the elusive West while you were there?” He can’t see, but my brows waggle as I say this.
The National Whiskey Convention is an annual event taking place in Kentucky, close to where Ripley worked for a bit when he was younger. Three years ago, he met someone at the hotel bar while he was there. They hooked up, and it became their own annual event. He knows close to nothing about him, just what gets him off and his phone number. West probably isn’t even his real name. To be honest, I think Rip gets just as excited to see this guy as he does to go to the convention at all.
“Nah, he couldn’t make it this year, something about work.” There’s a hint of disappointment in his voice, but I don’t push him for more.
I pull the café door open, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder. “Dang. Well, there’s always next year,” I say enthusiastically. He makes some kind of mhmm noise but doesn’t reply. “I’m getting you your usual, right?” I ask him as I enter the line. There’s one person in front of me checking out.
“Actually, get me an Americano. Extra large.”
I mock surprise by bringing my hand to my chest. “Wow, Kentucky changed you.” I laugh as I tease him. He isn’t one to switch it up, but with the cooler weather starting, I don’t blame him for needing something warm instead of his usual iced coffee.
“Okay, one second. I’m up,” I say to him as I move closer to the counter.
“Hey, Thea,” Grayce says with a warm smile on her face. “You want your usual, sweetie?”
“Yes, ma’am. I also need a hot Americano—”
I’m cut off by Ripley’s voice in my ear, “Extra large!”
I roll my eyes before cupping my hand over my mouth so I can scold him quietly, “I know! I was getting to it, my God!” I look back up at Grayce and give her a small smile that I hope translates to ‘sorry my best friend is annoying and demanding.’ “Extra large on that Americano, please.”
Grayce nods her head in amusement and takes my payment. I thank her then step away from the counter so the couple behind me can place their order. Grayce’s is tiny, and there are more people than usual—probably because more people are in town visiting family for Thanksgiving tomorrow—so it feels extra cramped today. I slide down to the pick-up counter and patiently wait for my order. Ripley is telling me about all the new things he learned from the convention, and I smile at how passionate he gets when talking about bourbon.
The barista puts my order on the pick-up station then quickly darts away to start on the next one in line. I wave goodbye to her and Grayce as I clutch the phone between my ear and shoulder to pick up the two drinks. As I spin around, I see a woman out of my periphery a half a second too late to stop from running into her. The coffee and my phone go flying and crash to the floor.
“Fuck!” I scream, much louder than what’s considered acceptable for public settings. I stand there in shock as I watch the woman look down at her very expensive, very ruined pantsuit and heels. Thankfully, most of the hot coffee landed on me, but some splattered onto her. I hear Ripley from the ground screaming, “What happened?!” through the phone. I bend down to pick it up, quickly put it to my ear, stand up, and say, “Gonna have to call you back, I just scalded myself and a stranger,” and hang up.
The woman still hasn’t said anything, so I take the opportunity to start profusely apologizing. “I am so sorry. Oh my God. Shit, I just—”
She reaches over and puts her hand on my forearm in a placating gesture. “It’s okay, really.”
I’m aggressively shaking my head, fully aware that I probably look insane. “No, it’s really not. I am so all over the place. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m just in my head, you know? No. You probably don’t know because you’re probably a normal person who didn’t just sleep with her ex and are now wondering if it was a mistake despite it feeling so fucking right. You know?” I throw my hand over my mouth. “Oh, wow. Fuck. You did not need to know all of that. I don’t know why I said that. Or why I’m saying fuck so much, shit. I ramble when I’m nervous, and—well, surprise—throwing hot coffee on someone makes me super nervous apparently.”
I pause. Not because I’m done embarrassing myself but because she’s… laughing?
“Really, I promise, it’s okay. I understand how a man can make a woman crazy. Been there, done that, currently writing the book.” She lets out another small laugh, and I feel like I can breathe again, knowing she isn’t immediately calling her lawyer to sue my ass. “You want my advice?”
I nod because, honestly, I’d take any advice at this point.
“If it feels right, it probably is. If it makes you happy, listen to the part of you that’s saying it’s right. I think we sometimes talk ourselves out of the good after dealing with the bad. A man who makes you feel whole and complete is worth keeping around. Just… watch out for STIs if it’s new,” she says with a wink. A wink .
Who is this woman, and why did I not run into her sooner? She’s like a fairy godmother who stepped straight out of Vogue with slicked back red hair, and a good six inches taller than me.
I give her a sheepish smile at the last bit because we one-hundred percent did not use a condom. It never crossed my mind. Not that I think I need to worry, I trust Cary, but… yeah, it wasn’t my best moment. I’m usually much more responsible.
She must catch my drift by the look on my face and adds, “Next time then.”
No one in the history of Thea Carina Ashford has ever been able to calm me down that quickly without some kind of physical intervention. Props to her.
“Let me buy your coffee. I need to get mine remade anyway,” I say as I pick up the cups from the floor and quickly toss them into a trashcan, then I grab some napkins for us both. At the counter, I look over to Grayce. “Whatever she wants, I’ve got it along with ours remade, please. And I’ll clean up the mess I made, just point me to the mop.”
Grayce, of course, tells me absolutely not and sends her son out to clean up the mess. I mouth ‘I’m sorry’ to him as he mops it up. He’s only twelve but one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever met.
Once the coffees are remade, I apologize to the kind woman again and thank her for her advice. The ring on her left ring finger catches the light as she wraps her hand around the coffee I just handed her.
“Holy shit, that’s gorgeous!” I say with my eyes laser-focused on the ring. She moves her coffee to her right hand, freeing her left so she can hold it out for me to see.
The ring is an oval yellow champagne diamond surrounded by a starburst halo of white diamonds set in a simple yellow-gold band.
The woman smiles as she stares down at the ring on her finger, probably thinking of the man who gave it to her. “It is very… pretty. Probably not what I would have chosen for myself, but that’s what happens when a man picks out the ring,” she says laughing.
“Really? I think I’d die if someone gave me that. It’s exactly what I’ve always imagined for myself,” I reply as I bring my eyes away from the ring and back to her face. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
She puts her left hand back around her coffee so it’s braced between both hands now. “Iris.”
“Thea. Nice to meet you, Iris. I’m so sorry it happened in the way it did. But thank you for the advice. I really appreciate it.” I pull my purse strap back up my shoulder after it slid some during my perusal of her ring and turn around to wave goodbye to Grayce. I slip her son a ten-dollar bill on the way out while putting my pointer finger to my lips and whispering, “Shh,” so he knows not to tell his mom.
Now that I’ve had a full-blown meltdown in the middle of the café, threw coffee on a stranger, and told everyone there I slept with my ex, I can only hope this caffeine gets me through my inventory counts.