Chapter 22 Rhianna
Rhianna
I’m sitting in the most hidden corner of Alex’s cafe, the one where no one can see your tears.
Not that I’m crying. Okay, maybe I am, just a little—the kind of crying where you feel like your heart is leaking out through your eyes no matter how hard you try to hold it in.
But I’m trying so hard to keep it together, to look professional.
Like my entire world didn’t just reshape itself around losing someone.
Like I’m not counting the days since I last felt his lips against mine, brushed my hand through his hair, or received one of his soft smiles that made everything inside me feel like warm honey.
This was supposed to be easy. I ended it before it could hurt this much. So why the heck does it feel like I just broke my own heart with a first-edition book and no return policy?
Thankfully the universe has handed me a distraction. I finally have another matchmaking client. My trusty notebook is open in front of me, but the words on the page blur. My brain feels like it tripped and fell into quicksand and my heart aches.
I don’t know what happened to Eli. He hasn’t come into the library for days.
I keep telling myself it’s for the best—we were a temporary thing, like the pumpkin spice latte.
Deliciously perfect for a season but inevitably going to end.
But just like how I pretend I’m totally fine with regular lattes the rest of the year, I’m pretending I’m fine without him.
My heart knows better, though. It keeps searching for that particular flavor of joy, that specific blend of warmth and excitement and possibility that only Eli could create.
But my chest feels hollowed out every time I think of him.
I take a shuddering breath and try to shift my focus to Iris, my newest matchmaking client. My first being Eli isn’t much of a recommendation for my services if I say so myself, but I’m willing to call myself the issue in that situation and give it another try.
“So,” I say, mustering in my I’m totally fine and not at all heartbroken voice. “Tell me what you’re looking for in a partner.” I poise my pen over the paper, ready to take notes even though my fingers tremble.
Iris twines an ivory strand of hair around her finger.
She’s as pale and ethereal as an orchid in her flower shop, all platinum blonde hair and delicate features.
I’ve known her forever but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this nervous.
“Well, there’s actually someone specific…
” She grabs her glass and takes a long swallow of water.
Oh boy. I know that feeling all too well. “Unfortunately,”—I say gently—“sometimes the whole ‘someone specific’ doesn’t work out.” Understatement of the century. “But tell me about him, anyway.”
I don’t know who Iris is specifically interested in.
But maybe if I figure out her type, if option A doesn’t work out I can brainstorm some other candidates.
That’s what I need to do—focus on someone else instead of wallowing in my own heartache.
Even if said heartache feels like it’s carving a gaping hole in my chest. And worse, it keeps gnawing at me that I’m the one who put it there.
That I hurt Eli. That I walked away and left him standing in the wreckage.
At least I ended it now. At least I had the sense to stop this before it became something even deeper—before we got in too far and truly ruined our lives when it inevitably fell apart.
Iris’ cheeks flush pink. “Well, he’s kind and funny.
” A genuine smile stretches across her face.
“Whenever I’m with him, time flies. And he makes me feel like I can be the real me—the real me no one else sees.
Like my ideas aren’t completely ridiculous.
” Her voice gets softer. “The problem is, I’m afraid he’s not interested in anything serious. With me or maybe with anyone.”
I grab a biscotto and pick at it. I know exactly what she means. Eli made me feel that way too—like I could be unapologetically myself, quirks and all. Like my dreams weren’t silly fantasies, but genuine possibilities.
Iris tangles more hair around her finger. Her gaze has gone distant, and it’s like she’s not talking to me anymore. Which is great news because I’m doing a terrible job of listening.
“He’s so good at what he does, too, you know? The way his eyes light up when he’s talking about his latest project or helping with the baseball team… It's magnetic. And even though we’re really different people, somehow it just… fits. Like two puzzle pieces slotting together.”
My brain—the whiny, moaning thing it is—wants to wallow more in my misery over Eli but her words make me realize I probably do know who she is talking about. Tom runs his family’s bait and tackle shop and volunteers with the baseball team.
Tom is one of the sweetest guys I know. Vibrant. Funny. Always has your back.
But when it comes to romantic commitment?
His interest level is somewhere between absolute zero and the temperature of a penguin’s feet.
He’s made it clear he’s married to his work, taking care of his grandmother, and coaching baseball.
Love? Romance? That’s strictly the stuff of the stories we discuss at book club.
My heart aches for Iris. I know what it’s like to want something that was never meant to last. And sure, Tom is upfront about it, but that doesn’t mean feelings listen to logic.
It’s so easy to get caught up in the what-ifs, to let yourself roll right down the hill into a bramble bush before you even realize you’ve fallen.
And once you’re in, it doesn’t matter that you knew better. The thorns still hurt all the same.
“And you know what’s really special?” Iris continues, her voice soft and dreamy.
“The way he gets excited about little things. Like when he found a signed baseball card of one of the kids’ favorite players, or the time he helped me rescue an injured seagull.
His whole face lights up, and it’s like… like the sun coming out after a storm.”
The tears I’ve been fighting prick my eyes until they burn. That’s exactly how Eli looked when I’d given him the Cyrus Whitlock book on Welsh mythology. How his eyes sparkled when he sang that Fleetwood Mac song to me. The expression he had on the beach when he’d almost said—
And just like that, my carefully constructed I’m totally fine facade crumbles faster than Alex’s famous coffee cake.
A sob burst out of me then never stops. It’s the kind of ugly crying that makes your nose run and your mascara turn traitor, the kind you usually save for your pillow at 2AM while googling “how to get over someone you never should have fallen for in the first place.” Except I’m doing it right here in Alex’s cafe, in front of a client, like a complete jerk.
Iris reaches out like she might help. “Oh! Oh no, are you okay, Rhianna?” Her hands move around frantically for a moment before she settles on patting my arm awkwardly.
I try to speak, but all that comes out is a sort of hiccuping sob.
Alex appears like she’s summoned by the sound of my emotional distress, her hair catching the light like a halo of hope through my tears.
She swoops in with the efficiency of someone who has been through an emotional hurricane and knows how to steady the sails.
“Iris.” Alex’s tone is gentle but brooks no argument. “Rhianna will have to reschedule with you. If you speak with Kasey at the cash register, she’ll provide you with a gift card for a complimentary future drink.”
She guides the confused florist away from the table with the same graceful authority she probably once used to manage the most challenging editors.
A minute later she’s back, sliding a steaming mug in front of me that smells like chamomile and something distinctly…
magical. It’s Ethan’s special “Fix Your Blues” tea, enhanced with just a touch of his magic—basically a hug in a cup.
“Want to tell me what that was about?” She settles into the chair across from me, her expression somewhere between concern and that furrowed brow and fixed stare that says she’s already figuring everything out and has opinions.
I wrap my hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into my trembling fingers.
For a long moment, I just stare into the swirling amber liquid, trying to find the right words.
Any words, really. Alex waits with the patience of someone who spends their free time mastering tricky recipes, testing each one over and over until it’s just right.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage. “I just… I shouldn’t be crying in front of Iris. That’s like, Matchmaking 101. Right up there with ‘don’t fall for your own client’ which—” I let out a watery laugh. “Well, I failed that one spectacularly too. Maybe your skepticism on this project was deserved.”
“Rhianna.” Alex’s voice is gentle. “What happened with Eli?”
And there it is. The question I’ve been avoiding since he stopped coming to the library, since our last conversation ended with that horrible silence that felt like the ending of a book you weren’t ready to finish.
When I ended things dressed in a kitschy Mary Poppins costume all while he looked too handsome to be real in his coat and shadows.
“I ended things—before I could get hurt even more.” I stare into my tea like it might hold answers.
Then my voice drops to a whisper. “Because somewhere along the way, I realized I’d already fallen for him.
And that scared me more than anything. I just…
I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him see all of me—and deciding to leave. ”
Alex’s expression softens. “So you jumped first.”