Chapter 6
Chapter Six
DREW
When I arrive at the cafe, it’s buzzing with people wearing lanyards.
There must be a fitness convention taking place.
Everyone here is in great shape, and their trays are full of healthy food that’s high in protein.
It makes me want to hit the gym—eventually.
First, though, I’m not about to miss out on a free lunch.
I scan the room. Emma has grabbed a table near the back.
She waves, and I start weaving my way through the crowd.
But as I get closer, my steps falter. Chloe’s with her.
She looks up at the same time I do. Our eyes lock.
Her expression flickers into a half smile.
I feel that same off-balance tug I felt when she brought me that delicious peppermint hot chocolate.
Emma brightens when she spots me. “Drew! Good timing. Come sit.”
I manage a nod, unable to speak.
“You remember Chloe, don’t you?”
“I do. Thanks for the cocoa earlier,” I say with a grin as I slide into the seat. “I think my blood sugar finally forgave you for the incident.”
I didn’t fully appreciate it when I first saw her, but Chloe is still gorgeous.
Her hair’s longer now. It falls just past her shoulders in soft, silky waves.
A few golden highlights catch in the café’s overhead lights.
Have I ever seen her wear it down? In every memory I have of her, it’s been twisted up into a bun or in a ponytail.
My brain jumps back in time three years to Emma’s college graduation. I don’t remember the ceremony too well, other than it felt like I was melting in the Fresno summer heat, but I remember the dinner.
We went to Emma’s favorite place in Clovis—The Little Blue Caboose Bistro. Emma, Mom, and Dad were all buzzing with excitement. And then there was Chloe.
She was quiet the whole time and barely said more than five words to anyone. She smiled when it was expected and nodded during the conversations. But the rest of the time, she just picked at her food and looked sad.
Later, when we all drifted outside for group photos, I ended up next to her. At some point, she caught me staring.
“You can ask, you know,” she said. “It won’t bother me.”
“Ask what?”
“Why my family isn’t here.”
I’d hesitated, unsure how to respond, but I didn’t have to.
“They’re in Monaco. Some fundraiser-slash-vacation thing. Graduation overlapped with their plans. They’d already booked their tickets and hotel and well . . . you know,” she said softly.
I held back a wince. “They didn’t even try to come?”
“They sent a very expensive flower arrangement and some beautiful Cartier jewelry. Fresno State was never their plan for me. They had their hearts set on me attending an Ivy League school.”
I couldn’t stop myself from putting my foot in my mouth. “And you didn’t because . . .?”
“I wanted to take control of my life.”
I remember just standing there, not knowing what to say to that. It was the kind of answer, however, that stayed with you long after the moment passed.
And it had. Even now, the memory still stirs anger inside of me. How could someone work that hard, graduate with honors, and still not be enough to make their parents show up? If I ever met her parents, they were going to get a piece of my mind. Even all these years later.
Back in the café, I focus on the ladies. Chloe’s still seated across from Emma, sipping from her cup. Her eyes flicker toward me, then away again.
Most people would’ve walked away from the tank mess earlier without a second glance. But not Chloe. She came back to apologize because that’s just the type of person she is. Kind and considerate.
I pull up a chair between the girls and nod toward the cookies they’ve been eating. There’s a Christmas tree with little green sugar pearls, a snowman with a slightly crooked hat, and a snowflake. “Any of those got my name on it?”
“Nope. These are for us,” Emma says, her hand hovering protectively over the plate.
I frown. “I thought you said you’d buy me lunch.”
“I did, but I didn’t buy these. Chloe did.”
“Here,” Chloe says, her voice quieter now. “Why don’t you take the tree. It’s mint chocolate chip. You’re favorite.”
A warmth creeps into my chest. She remembered my favorite drink earlier, and now she’s remembered my favorite cookie. I feel embarrassed. I don’t know what her favorite drink and cookie are. “Thanks,” I tell her, softer than I mean to.
Chloe just shrugs, reaching for another cookie, and the moment passes. As I chew, I can’t stop wondering what else she remembers or what else she notices. Which is ridiculous because the last thing I need right now is Emma’s best friend lodged in my head.