Chapter 29Cade
Cade
After taking Friday and Saturday to accelerate our breakup, I need a mental reset. Of course, Jenna and I said a lot of shitty things to each other while she was packing up, only powering the exhaustion of it all.
As necessary as our split is, I can’t shake the fear of losing a piece of me in this process. And my only hope is that whatever part of me Jenna takes with her will eventually find its way back home.
If you asked my old self to have faith in that idea, I’d tell you to fuck off.
If you asked the guy grinning like a fucking idiot in the middle of The Grind right now, he’d tell you there’s definitely hope. In the form of a blonde bombshell sitting in the built-in bench in the corner.
I called Olivia asking if she wanted to meet at the coffee shop, and when she told me she was already here, I hopped right on my motorcycle.
Her long hair is pulled back in a low bun, and there are these gold hoop earrings peeking behind her curtain bangs. Her glossy lips wrap around the rim of her latte cup, her free fingers typing on her laptop.
My stomach tents when my eyes fall to her jean jacket over her loose white tee—a stark contrast to the woman who was masturbating in lingerie on my desk the other night. I swallow when I catch her long legs cloaked in black leggings, only for her white socks to poke out of her white sneakers.
Call me insane, but this might be the sexiest she’s ever looked. My heart practically begs to lunge at her, but my steady legs salvage me.
“Now, why would you get your own cinnamon bun when I clearly offered to get you one in my text?” I ask, sinking into the chair across from her.
Her mint eyes sparkle as she bites off a piece of the roll. “I’ll never say no to a second,” she mumbles.
I smirk, shrugging my leather coat off. “What are you doing?”
“Writing.” Her fingers scroll along the tracking pad as her other hand babysits her sugary treat. “Okay, technically , I’m still brainstorming. Which is taking years longer than I expected.”
“You should stop viewing this side project as having a deadline,” I say, crossing my forearms on the table. “This isn’t your job. It’s what you love and want to do. There’s true joy in that.”
Her eyes ping up from the computer screen, narrowing above a slanted grin. “Ah, so this coffee date was a means for you to deliver a Ted Talk. I don’t do well with those.”
I laugh lightly. “No, I just say what I feel to be true.” Her smile lengthens, wafts of brown sugar and peony enticing me before she tastes her cinnamon bun. “What’s this story going to be about?” I ask.
Olivia purses her lips as she shakes her head.
I playfully squint, studying the way that glimmer in her eyes dulls a notch. “No? Not even a little hint?”
She gulps the bite of her snack, setting the roll down on the empty brown bag. “I don’t believe in the story just yet. Give me some time, and you’ll be the first to know.”
“Alright, I can live with that. But you have to promise me something.” When she shoots her eyes to me, she arches a brow. “I get the first signed copy.”
Her nose crinkles in the most adorable way. “This isn’t a book you’ll like.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s romance,” she deadpans, tilting her head to the side.
“Okay, you’re right.” I nod through a skewed smile. “That’s not my type of book. But it’ll be written by someone I happen to enjoy. Very much. And if they write it, I want it.”
A pale pink blossoms across her creamy cheeks, and my lungs inflate with this … joy . After the misery of the last few months, staring at Olivia now gives a valid reason for my heartache. Because it’s her who I gain on the other side of it all.
“Do you want another latte?” I ask as I stand.
She waves me off with a tender smile. “No, I’m fine.”
I let her know I’ll be right back before weaving through the tables to the counter. Luckily, I’m able to walk right up and place my order before bodies station behind me.
When I wander to the side, my eyes catch the neon colors of the “Hello Board” anchored to the beige wall. My hands burrow in my jeans pockets, my gaze trailing the sea of Post-its until it finds hers on a bright blue square.
Is it by accident that two people meet for the first time twice?
I re-read Olivia’s question over, my mind clouding with confusion the longer I try to search for some clarity. Typically, the notes she leaves are directed toward me, so I silently sift through our timeline a little deeper.
Ah, I get it.
She’s referring to us running into each other at my brewery. There was a different mood between us, so maybe that’s what Olivia’s referencing?
Unless …
Fly back to me.
She barely admitted she was looking for someone when I confronted her on the overlook, but the implication was there.
My head snaps to the side when the barista calls my order. I pick up the coffee and small bag in one hand, abandoning my racing thoughts as I head back to Olivia.
“Just in case you needed extra writing fuel,” I say, resting the bag next to her computer.
She flashes her pearly whites, staring at the bag as if it’s a pair of diamond earrings. “Yeah, sure. We can go with that.”
I sit down, her delighted eyes tracking me as she munches on the rest of her first cinnamon bun. Her thumb and forefinger pop out of her mouth, and a speck of brown sugar clings to her pink gloss.
Without hesitation, my thumb swipes the sugary dust off her satin bottom lip.
“Sorry,” she mutters.
My chest warms just as her cheeks glow. “I’m not offended.”
“How much do I owe you?” she asks.
“Considering I refuse to answer that, I’m just going to say that I don’t think it’s by accident,” I reply before sipping my cold brew.
I briefly jerk my brows as I gulp the smooth liquid, locking with her puzzled eyes. We hang in limbo for a few beats, her features softening once the lightbulb shines in her mind. “You don’t?”
I shake my head. “No. If two people meet twice in different ways, maybe that’s just life’s way of telling them that they were built for every moment .
Not just the simple times or the rough ones.
Both . And every road in between,” I explain.
“If you’re meant for someone, what’s the point if you can’t travel every path together? ”
The crook of her mouth turns up, and even that hint of a smile graces her eyes.
A flicker of contentment gleaming through.
Relief . “I’d like to think your theory is true,” she admits while lifting her drink.
“My mind flows with questions sometimes. You’ll get used to it.
My roommate has been forced to.” Then she shrugs before sipping her latte.
“I’ve noticed,” I answer casually.
Her index finger points to her chest as she gulps. “Imaginative to a fault. That’s me.”
“Sometimes perfection is overrated,” I say.
The tip of her tongue pokes out to lick her lips. “Or perfection is subjective.”
“What do you mean?”
Her free fingers whisk her bangs away from her eyes. “I mean that everyone has their idea of perfection,” she answers. “That there’s one person out there who’s flawless to them . Like everyone is handed a unique puzzle, and it’s a matter of finding the precise piece that completes it.”
A small grin carves from my mouth, sweetly coaxing her.
She scrunches her face before planting a hand over it. And fuck if there aren’t damn butterflies soaring in my stomach right now. “You’re making me vulnerable. That’s not very nice,” she murmurs.
I smirk as I gently lower her hand, and she catches my playful stare. “Should I beat myself off in a bunny costume next time? I promise I’d steal all the vulnerability at that point.”
She chuckles, her shoulders bouncing before she pops one in consideration. “I mean, hey, I might like it.” Her fingers gesture toward her collarbone. “Especially if you had a yellow bow with polka dots.”
“Obviously.” I jerk my brows a couple times. “Scattered plastic eggs. A bunny burrow after, maybe?”
“As long as the bunny suit stays on.”
“Of course it would stay on,” I lightly scoff. “It’s a bunny burrow .”
Her fingers slap over her laugh as her eyes gape. “We can’t talk about this. There could be kids,” she whispers before peeking around.
Her cherry cheeks and wide eyes toss a net over my heart.
I care for this girl.
This girl who caught my heart just before it crashed to the ground.
When her gaping eyes return to me, her body sits straight as she stifles a snicker. “I’m a tomato, aren’t I?”
“A little, yeah.”
She finally falters, dipping her head to tuck her bangs behind her ear. “Agh, and I was doing so well.”
A breathy laugh escapes my throat, mingling with her own.
“Okay,” she sighs, lifting her stare to meet mine, “at least I had a good run. Can we agree to that?”
I reach for one of her hands, our elbows now planted on the table as our fingers kiss.
My eyes focus on the pads of my rough skin gently caressing her silk fingertips, every nudge strumming a heartstring in tune.
“For what it’s worth, I like the way you fit into my life,” I declare. “Tomato and all.”
My gaze elevates to hers, the timid gleam in her stare now replaced with awe. Her
fingers curl between mine, the delicate friction winding the net tighter around my heart. “I like the way you fit into mine,” she confesses.
I’ve never actually seen a sunrise before in my twenty-nine years. One of those random facts you realize about yourself out of nowhere. But even though I’ve never witnessed it, there is something I can say with absolute certainty.
I’ve felt it.