Chapter 24
LIVVI
The next morning, I couldn’t stop replaying last night in my head. The way Talon’s hand had lingered a second too long when he’d passed me a plate. The warmth in his eyes when he’d laughed. The almost-kiss—how close we’d been, so close I had tasted the electricity.
And then, just as quickly, he’d pulled back. Like he hadn’t realized what he was doing. Or … that it was a mistake.
I told myself not to read too much into it, but the sting hadn’t faded. If he’d wanted to kiss me, he would have. Maybe all the warmth I’d felt was one-sided. Maybe I’d been fooling myself from the beginning.
Which was why, when I picked up my phone and opened my chat with TheWriteGuy, I did something I’d been avoiding.
ReadToLiv
Okay. I think I’m ready.
TheWriteGuy
For what?
My finger hovered over the send button for three solid seconds before I finally tapped it.
ReadToLiv
To meet. In person.
My heart jackhammered in my chest as the little dots bounced, telling me he was typing.
TheWriteGuy
Are you serious?
ReadToLiv
Serious.
TheWriteGuy
Wow. Okay. Yeah. I’d love that.
ReadToLiv
Me too. I think it’s time.
It was terrifying and freeing all at once, like stepping off a cliff and hoping the ground would catch me.
TheWriteGuy
I live in Florida, in a small college town.
My eyes about bugged out of my head. Florida? A small college town?
ReadToLiv
Wait. Are you serious?
TheWriteGuy
Yep. Kemery.
ReadToLiv
… Are you kidding me? I live in Kemery.
I sat back in my chair, staring at the screen like it might explain itself. TheWriteGuy—my confidant, my night-owl companion—was in my town this whole time?
TheWriteGuy
That’s insane.
ReadToLiv
Yeah. What are the chances?
My stomach lurched. For half a second, a thought skittered across my mind—what if it’s Talon?
I shook my head. No. That would be ridiculous. He’d never hide something like that. And besides, if it were him, he would have said something by now.
Still, unease threaded through me.
TheWriteGuy
Maybe it’s fate. Maybe we were supposed to meet all along.
My breath caught. It was something Talon had said yesterday—on the walk to his apartment. Like … sometimes people come into your life right when you need them. Almost like fate or something. And then he’d asked me directly, Do you believe in fate?
The familiarity pressed too close, too sharp.
I forced a laugh and shook my head again. Just coincidence. People said things like that all the time.
ReadToLiv
So … when do you want to meet?
TheWriteGuy
What about this weekend? Saturday afternoon? Neutral ground—somewhere public. Coffee shop?
ReadToLiv
Works for me.
TheWriteGuy
There’s that café on Main Street, the Orange Blossoms Café. You know it?
ReadToLiv
I know it.
TheWriteGuy
Perfect. I’ll be there at two.
Two o’clock. Saturday. Less than forty-eight hours away.
I set my phone down, pressing my hands against my cheeks to cool the heat rushing there.
This was it. The moment I’d been both dreaming of and dreading.
And so by the time Saturday came, my nerves were stretched so tight, I could hear them humming, and I nearly talked myself out of it three separate times.
Once when I stared too long in the mirror, wondering if I looked meet-your-online-soulmate ready.
Once in the car outside the café, palms sweating against the steering wheel.
And once when I caught sight of my reflection in the café window and thought—what if this ruins everything?
My stomach churned as I stood outside the Orange Blossoms Café. The little downtown café looked so ordinary—brick walls, wide front windows, a sandwich board sign with chalk lettering—but stepping through those glass doors felt like crossing into another life.
The bell jingled above me, and the scent of roasted beans and sugar wrapped around me. The place buzzed with quiet conversation, people tapping away on laptops or reading worn paperbacks. I smoothed my shirt nervously and scanned the café for … someone. For him.
My heart hammered as I walked farther inside, but then I stopped in my tracks.
Standing near the counter, a cup in each hand, was Talon.
And then my heart stopped, skipped, then slammed so hard, it rattled my ribs.
He hadn’t seen me yet, his attention focused on balancing the drinks. But when he finally looked up, his brows lifted in surprise.
“Hey.” His voice carried across the room, his smile warm.
I blinked at him, my mind scrambling for footing. What was he doing here? I mean, not that he couldn’t be here. This was a small town, and this was a popular hot spot where I had run into him more than once. But why was he here at two o’clock?
“Hi,” I managed, though my voice came out thinner than I liked. My eyes flicked to his hands—two cups. Not one. Two.
A swift stab of jealousy punched low in my gut before I had a chance to shove it down. “Are you … meeting someone here?”
Something unreadable flickered across his face. He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
I looked at Talon, then glanced around the café, and then back to Talon. My mind was struggling with what was happening.
Two o’clock. Orange Blossoms Café. Talon. Two cups. Meeting someone.
Was he TheWriteGuy? My heart leapt at the thought while my brain simultaneously shot the idea down.
No, if Talon was TheWriteGuy, he would have said something. He wouldn’t have kept something like that from me. So it had to be that he was meeting another woman here.
The pang deepened. My throat tightened. I told myself it was ridiculous. Talon was allowed to meet whomever he wanted. But the idea of him waiting here for another woman made me want to crawl right out of my skin. Although … I was here to meet someone else too.
“I’m actually meeting someone too,” I said quickly, trying to cover my reaction.
His mouth curved, slow and careful. “Yeah? Then maybe we can wait together until they show up.”
My pulse stuttered. Wait together? I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
I swallowed hard, then forced a small smile at a loss of how to respond. “Uh, sure. Why not?”
We found a table near the window. He set the cups down, sliding one toward me without explanation.
My brow furrowed. “Is this …?”
“Vanilla latte, two pumps hazelnut, extra foam,” he said, like it was nothing.
Like it wasn’t exactly my order.
Shock rattled through me, though I tried not to let it show. “Thanks.”
He only shrugged, sipping from his own cup, putting his tattoo on full display, reminding me of the moment we’d shared on his couch as I’d finally gotten to run my fingers against the black ink. He was looking all casual. Too casual.
We made small talk about swim and work while we waited, though my mind spun too fast to focus.
I kept stealing glances at him, trying to piece together what was happening.
Why was he here? I couldn’t get that question to stop looping through my head.
Why did he have my coffee order memorized?
And why did it feel like the floor beneath me was shifting, inch by inch, toward some massive truth?
Then the barista called from the counter, “Order for TheWriteGuy—turkey pesto panini!”
The name slammed into me like a truck.
My head snapped up. My body went rigid. The words echoed in my ears.
Talon pushed back his chair and stood, giving me an almost sheepish glance. “Hold on. That’s me.”
And then he walked to the counter.
I sat frozen, the world tilting.
TheWriteGuy.
The name. The order. The two cups of coffee.
It all clicked into place, so blindingly obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before.
Talon Everhart—guarded, infuriating, wonderful Talon—was TheWriteGuy. The man I’d poured out all my thoughts to, my fears, my hopes. The man I’d thought was a faceless confidant somewhere out in the void.
It was him. It had been him all along.
My pulse thundered in my ears as he returned with the tray, setting it down on the table like nothing had changed. But everything had changed.
Everything.
“Talon,” I breathed, still stunned. “You’re—”
“TheWriteGuy,” he finished softly, meeting my gaze head-on. No deflection this time. No games. Just the truth.
Relief and betrayal crashed together inside me, leaving me dizzy. Because deep down, some part of me had hoped it was him. Had wanted it. But another part screamed that he should have told me sooner.
“You?” My voice cracked. “It was you this whole time?”
He nodded once, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Yeah. It was me.”
I sat back hard in my chair, pressing a trembling hand to my chest.
Shock. Relief. Hurt. Confusion. All tangled into one impossible knot.
And suddenly, I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words burst out sharp and raw.
Talon flinched, then leaned forward, elbows braced on the table. His fingers tapped against the cardboard sleeve of his cup, restless and tense. “Because I didn’t know right away.”
That startled me. “What?”
“I didn’t know it was you,” he said quietly. His eyes searched mine, steady and serious. “Not at first. I just knew you as ReadToLiv. And then, that night at my apartment … when we were trying to name the fish?”
A heaviness settled over me. Sapphire.
“You said you were always bad at naming things. That you overthought it, that names felt too heavy to choose. And it hit me—because you’d said the exact same thing in one of our chats.” He exhaled shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s when I realized.”
The memory flickered, vivid and undeniable. I had said that. Both times. My breath caught.
“So you knew then?”
“I suspected,” he admitted. “But once I paid attention, once I started connecting the dots—yeah. I knew. And then I panicked.”
“Panicked?” My voice wavered between disbelief and hurt.