7 Lattes
POP CALLED AFTER ME AS I stormed down the street, but I didn’t turn around. There was nothing he could say that would make this better. I’d forgotten my scarf, and the wind stung my neck, so I pulled my jacket tightly around me and wiped the drying tears from my face.
“Disrupt my life,” I mumbled to myself, then kicked a pile of what were hopefully leaves on the sidewalk.
For some reason, an image of the beach flashed in my head. Sun, sea, surf. And I could actually go—to any beach, anywhere. All I had to do was accept my aunt’s gift. Enroll in some kind of program, or maybe a tour? Make a plan, any plan, because I clearly wasn’t needed here. By anyone.
And then, without even realizing where I’d headed, I found myself standing outside the coffee shop, where the lights were still on.
It was like something had guided me here.
It was a sign that I should tell James about the inheritance.
About how I was getting out of this town and doing something with my life while he was stuck here complaining about ceramic pumpkins.
I was ready to throw it all in his face. But when I walked inside and the warm, spiced air filled my lungs, something changed and I totally forgot the start of the rant I was about to have. I was just consumed with the feeling of peace that this place brought me.
James was at the coffee machine. “Gingerbread cocoa?”
“Sure, thanks,” I replied, confused because of the weird coincidence.
I’d been writing down different fall recipes to try.
I mean, I hadn’t gotten around to any of them since James had shown up and we’d focused on the festival, but gingerbread cocoa?
That was definitely one of them, and I’d written it down in that notebook I kept under the counter. The one I’d lent to James that day.
I leaned on the counter. Head in my hands, squeezing my hair.
“No green scarf tonight?” he said, and I had to tell my face that I didn’t feel the tingle that danced its way up my spine.
He was doing it again. That thing he did when I was mad, and confused, and completely, one hundred percent sure he was not right for me.
He’d said something that made me realize that he noticed.
That he cared about the little things. It was the same feeling I’d gotten when he admitted he remembered our kiss at the tree all those years ago. Now my anger was dissolving …
“I forgot it. I was in a rush.”
“A rush? Why?”
“Oh, no reason, just really wanted a walk.” I tried to give aloof vibes, but it was hard when he was being nice James, and also hard to look anything but pathetic when my face was all puffy from crying.
“Do you want to sit for a bit?” He poured cocoa into my favorite mug.
“How’d you know I liked that mug?” I took it from him and held it up.
“It’s the only one you ever use. Figured it was some kind of superstitious thing.” He picked up his own coffee.
“You think I’m superstitious?” I followed him to the one table that still had chairs on the floor.
“I could definitely believe it if you were.”
“What would be wrong with being superstitious if I was?”
“Oh, nothing. That’s not what I meant. I actually think it’s kind of cute …”
I took a sip of cocoa and let those words hang in the air, trying to figure out what came next.
But I didn’t have to.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out.
I curled my hands around my cup. “Sorry for what?”
“For earlier. Maybe you didn’t notice, or didn’t feel it, but I thought there was … something real between us. And I got scared.” He shook his head and pushed his hand through his perfect hair.
I looked down into the steaming cocoa. “I felt it,” I admitted. “Feel it.” Timidly.
“Well, like I said, I’m sorry. It’s just …
I don’t know. This is not exactly what I thought my life would look like.
Coming back and being thrown straight in here, I’ve had no real time to think.
And then you were there, and I got all these …
feelings.” This time he looked away. “Feelings like … I don’t know, like ones that tell me I want to get to know you better.
No, ones that tell me I need to know every little thing about you.
Feelings like I hate it here during the week because you’re at school, and Saturday morning has become the best thing in my life …
I don’t know, I can’t really explain it … ”
My throat went tight. He was saying everything I wanted to hear. That he felt it too. That he felt the same way about Saturday mornings. That all the other days just felt like something to get through until we could be together again.
And I was leaving.
I needed to tell him. Right now. Tell him about the letter, about the money, about the plan to get out of Oak Falls.
But how could I tell him I was leaving when he’d just opened up to me? How could I tell him that was it after he’d told me I was the best thing in his week?
I sat there in silence, crushed under the weight of everything I wasn’t saying.
I tried to breathe myself calm, though my whole body flared with the heat and the longing he’d just ignited. He’d said everything I hadn’t even realized I was feeling too.
“I think you did a pretty good job of explaining …” I said eventually, watching him relax as I stared into his soft brown eyes.
“Not everything … I didn’t explain everything. Penn State …” He looked away for a second like he was deciding whether to say the words.
“What do you mean Penn State?” I asked. “Carter?” I shook my head.
“I got jealous, okay? The way he looks at you, how easy it is for him to just walk around all cool and friendly. Like come on, man, screw something up here. And I don’t know, I haven’t had good experiences with anyone from Penn State …”
I moved my eyes slowly, up over his sharp jawline and his lips, until they met his eyes again. “Carter’s not my type …”
“What is your type?”
Well, that was easy. “Guys who blow hot and cold every two seconds … guys who give me nicknames because of the color of my hair, guys who remember my favorite mug, and steal my first—”
And I didn’t even get to finish, because he was kissing me again.
Across the table, our hands reaching desperately for each other.
He found my wrist and guided me around, his lips still pressed to mine.
He turned to face me and reached for my waist, leading me onto his lap, my legs around his waist. My hands were in his hair, his hands were lost in mine, then down my back, mine on his shoulders …
A knock at the window.
I spun around to see Linda Snell peeking through the window, then turning to talk to someone else. I shielded my face, climbed off James, and rushed behind the counter, unable to contain my laughter.
“No way she knew it was me,” I laughed. “This hair, blends right in.”
James smiled. “This town. Was it always like this? I can’t remember.” He leaned on the counter beside me.
“You don’t notice this stuff when you’re a kid.
Only when you get older and people like Linda Snell read your medical records and think nothing of telling everyone at church that you got poison ivy on your butt.
” I laughed, and I could have cried because of how great it felt to forget all the other stuff for a while.
“On your butt?” James raised his eyebrows.
“Yes on my butt. Disaster.” After a quick glance at the window, he pulled me toward him again, and I was still laughing as we kissed.
And after we separated, there was a moment. A silence. But not a bad one. One I didn’t need to fill but did anyway.
“I feel it too,” I said quietly. “All of it.”
James glanced at the floorboards, then found my eyes. “Well, thank God for that, Red.” He grinned. Then he looked pensive for a second. “Can I show you something?”
I nodded and he turned to the coffee machine in front of us.
“When I was looking through that notebook you gave me, I saw all those great recipes you wrote down, and I tried to come up with some of my own.” He left me at the counter and picked up the notebook from the table we’d been sitting at.
He flipped through some pages. “Like here. Maple bacon espresso, pecan pie cappuccino, and even candy cane lattes for the holidays. What do you think?” He looked over for my reaction.
“Those sound great,” I agreed, stood, and walked over beside him. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. He was using the coffee machine again. “Maybe not bacon coffee, though.”
“What? That was my favorite one!” He added something to the coffee cup. “Wait until you taste this, it’s your pumpkin spice latte but with a twist. I added extra ginger and a dash of caramel. Tell me what you think?”
I waited patiently as he tried to draw a heart in the foam, looking embarrassed.
The heart was crooked, but the coffee was perfectly sweet and so delicious.
“What do you think? Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s great, James. Really great.” I put the cup down and when I looked up, he was staring right at me.
His brown eyes twinkled in the soft golden glow of the coffee shop, and I had the urge to move closer.
To trace my hand along his jaw, because earlier had not been enough. I was drawn to him like a magnet.
He put his hands on my face. Shock waves.
“Hey, I forgot to ask you what your type was …” I whispered.
He tilted my head back and gazed into my eyes.
“Girls who steal baseballs from cool boys …” He kissed me gently on the mouth, then pulled away.
“Girls who make the whole world brighter when they walk in the door …” Another kiss, deeper this time.
“Girls who make me forget I ever wanted to be anywhere but here …”
And as if to make his point even clearer, he kissed me yet again.
Softly, with the cuffs of his flannel shirt brushing my skin, his fingers on my cheeks, underneath my hair.
Then harder, deeper, like he was trying to tell how much it meant.
And when he pulled away, breathless, he rested his forehead on mine.
“Red,” he whispered. And the way he said it.
The way his breath caught and he looked into my eyes. It made my legs almost give way.
It was perfect.
When we eventually separated, the world was still. Like we were in a movie and everything had changed to slow motion.
And then my mind cleared, and everything—Lennie, the letters, the decision—it hit me again, all at once.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He reached over and touched the crease between my eyes.
“Are you sure you want to know?” I asked, biting my lip and hoping he would say yes.
He nodded, so I went for it.
“I kind of got left some money,” I said, then exhaled, like stress was physically leaving my chest.
“Oh no, poor Red,” James laughed. “What a disaster.” I’m not sure my tight smile reached my eyes, and he clocked the change in my mood. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” He reached over and pushed my hair behind my ear, the same way he’d done at Harvest Festival.
“So, I got left this money in my aunt’s will. But it can only be used for ‘seeing the world beyond Oak Falls.’ “ I did quote marks with my hands.
“You don’t like vacations?” He looked at me quizzically, and this time he was the one with the frown line between his brows. “Is that the problem?”
I was tired. Tired of keeping secrets, tired of doing all the things I thought people wanted from me. And here, in the coffee shop, looking at James, I felt it was safe to let my feelings out.
I sighed dramatically. “I would love to travel. I’ve always wanted to see the world, since, like, forever. I used to make my pop go on pretend trips with me.” I laughed at the memory.
“So wait. I don’t get it. What’s the problem?” James’s fingers found mine and he rubbed the soft skin on the back of my hand with his thumb.
“It’s just not the right time. I don’t want to leave Pop alone …
or I didn’t, but then he told me he’s like in this new relationship, with Jo from the library.
Which is fine. I mean, it’s whatever …” I didn’t give James a chance to say anything then, even though he looked like he wanted to.
“And then there’s Lennie, you know, my best friend.
She’s just started going out with this girl Sara.
You know the girl who came in with her brother to buy cookies? ”
James nodded, looking confused now.
“Well, nobody knew they were going out and I accidentally outed her to her brother, so now my best friend isn’t talking to me, and probably won’t ever again, and I keep texting her, but she won’t write back.
She told me to stop calling, and when I really think about it, I have no idea why I’m actually staying in Oak Falls, because what’s the point of staying somewhere that wouldn’t even notice if you left?
” Tears pricked my eyes, and James squeezed my hand.
“Breathe,” he said gently. “Your friend. Lennie?”
I nodded.
“She’ll forgive you. It wasn’t deliberate, and she’ll know that, but she’s probably trying to deal with her girlfriend’s feelings first. Just give it time.”
“I don’t know, I really messed up, I was just trying to be nice with the cookies, and I wasn’t thinking.
” A tear rolled down my cheek. I looked away from James as I wiped it off.
“Sometimes I do that, just try to be nice, as like an automatic reaction, but I don’t always think it through.
And I should have thought it through.” I felt like kicking myself.
“She’ll know that. Deep down, if you’re best friends, she knows you. Like I said, just give it time. And, Red, it’s one of the best things about you, how nice you are. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” He was trying to make me feel better, but it wasn’t working.
“Yeah. Maybe. But you know what? You’re right. She does have to focus on her girlfriend’s feelings and Pop does have to focus on his new girlfriend. What is the actual point of me being here?” James looked at me like I was losing my mind.
“You’re here now, even Geoff doesn’t need me anymore.” I played distractedly with the knitted fall leaves that I’d spent half a day pinning in the perfect design on the coffee shop bulletin board.
“I wouldn’t say you’re not needed here …”
“Even Carter is going to Rome next semester. Italy!“
“Oh well, if Penn State said it’s good then it must be great,” James said.
“I mean, maybe I should do something like that too? Just go?” I said it like a question, but I was just thinking out loud.
And it was like my words opened up a black hole in the room, and James disappeared into it. “Yeah, maybe you should,” he said.
He turned away and started angrily stacking cups at the counter. Then it hit me that I’d been pretty insensitive after everything he’d just said. That didn’t erase the fact that I deserved my own dreams, but I had a horrible feeling I’d just been a total jerk.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Willa, don’t. Forget I ever said anything … you’re too young anyway.”
“James …”
He turned and walked into the back room, and I lingered a long time, hoping he’d come back out so we could try that whole conversation again.
But he didn’t.