Chapter 10
TEN
THE AROMA OF freshly brewed coffee saturates the air, mingling with the sweet scent of cinnamon rolls and buttery croissants.
The clatter of cups, the hiss of the espresso machine, the murmur of conversations, all blend into a steady, comforting hum.
I stand behind the counter, my hands moving on muscle memory as I prepare a latte, the steam swirling upwards in a fragrant cloud.
Dressed in my favorite yellow sweater, I take a deep breath, savoring the familiar rhythm of my café and the sense of belonging that surrounds me.
The morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows warms my skin.
“Two cappuccinos and two croissants for table three!” Helen calls out through the crowded space.
“Coming right up!” I reply, adding a flourish of latte art to the foam.
I glance at the clock, a vintage piece that Mary adored.
Eight thirty.
Just another day at Maddy’s Place. The warm lighting, the mismatched chairs, the regulars chatting at their usual tables… it all offers a quiet peace my frayed nerves desperately need.
I arrange the two cappuccinos and croissants on the tray, tucking a sugar packet holder beside them. “Here you go, Helen.” I hand her the tray. “For table three.”
“Thanks, Ames,” she replies with a playful wink. “You’re a lifesaver. Those ladies look like they’re about to start a caffeine riot.”
I chuckle and turn to greet the next customer, a young man with a sleepy smile and a book tucked under his arm. “Good morning, what can I get for you?” I ask, slipping into the cheerful persona I’ve perfected.
“Black coffee, please. Dark roast,” he replies, his gaze lingering on the pastry display.
“Coming right up,” I say, already reaching for a cup and scooping coffee beans into the grinder.
A lull settles over the café, the morning rush subsiding.
I lean against the counter, enjoying the respite.
My gaze travels over the chatty patrons and settles on the back corner.
Nestled near the windowpane is Lou, engrossed in a worn paperback.
His wispy white hair catches the sunlight, and his pale blue eyes, magnified by reading glasses, twinkle with a hint of mischief.
At seventy-five, he’s a comforting presence in the ever-changing flow of this place.
I grab the coffeepot and walk over. “Morning, Lou,” I say. “Top you off?”
“Why, thank you.” His smile widens as I refill his mug.
“The Great Gatsby,” I say, eyeing the cover. “Isn’t that the one with the green light?”
“Indeed it is,” he replies, eyes crinkling. “But there’s much more to it, my dear. That green light at the end of Daisy’s dock… it’s the symbol of the dream that always seems just out of reach.”
“The dream that’s just out of reach…” I repeat, the phrase striking a chord. “I suppose we all have our green lights, don’t we?”
He dips his chin, thoughtful. “We all have those desires that keep us reaching, even when the path seems dark.”
My own lost dreams flash before my eyes…
The café.
A place to call home.
A love that doesn’t suffocate.
My chest tightens. A lump forms in my throat. “And what happens when that green light fades?” I ask, my voice scratchy.
Lou pauses, looking over his glasses. Then, his focus shifts to something behind me. A flicker of surprise crosses his face.
“Just because it fades doesn’t mean it’s gone,” a deep voice says.
I spin around.
My heart slams against my ribs and my gaze clashes with his.
Those same intense green eyes that have haunted my thoughts since the night we met.
My green light.
Matthew takes a step closer, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. My pulse quickens. A flutter starts in my stomach that has nothing to do with skipping breakfast.
Lou clears his throat, breaking our trance. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Amy?” he asks, eyes twinkling.
“Right,” I stammer. “Lou, this is Matthew. Matthew, this is Louis. But to everyone lucky enough to know him, he is Lou.” I smile at the sweet old man. “He always has the right words at the right time.”
Lou waves off my compliment. “Amy makes me feel so at home here. Call me sentimental, but they just don’t make coffee shops like this anymore,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice.
“All these modern places popping up everywhere, with their sleek lines and minimalist decor… there’s a soul to this place that’s becoming rare these days. ”
Matthew’s gaze lingers on the worn wooden counter and the faded photographs. His jaw tightens and he rubs the back of his neck. “You’re right,” he says.
“Listen to me going on and on. Where are my manners?! Join us.” Lou gestures to the chair beside him. “Amy and I were just about to enjoy a coffee together.”
“We were?” I ask, caught off guard.
“You haven’t had your coffee yet, have you?” Lou points out.
Matthew notices my hesitation. “Thanks, Lou, but I really can’t. I just need to talk to Amy for a minute about a business matter.”
“Nonsense,” Lou insists. “Business can wait. You youngsters always have your priorities mixed up.”
I open my mouth to argue. “Lou—”
“Amy could use a break after the busy morning she’s had, and so can you. In fact, she’s going to fetch those coffees right now,” Lou concludes, shooting me an expectant look.
“I—I’ll be right back,” I say, my voice tight.
I spin on my heel and march toward the counter, shoulders knotted with frustration.
Reaching the coffee machine, I slide the glass pot back into its warmer. Helen sidles up beside me, eyes wide.
“Is that Bancroft’s lawyer sitting with Lou?”
I sigh. “Yes,” I reply, grabbing two mugs from the rack.
“Why’s he back?” Helen presses.
“Probably to finish the meeting James interrupted yesterday.” My hands tremble slightly as I fill the mugs. “Though Lou seems intent on playing matchmaker.”
Helen’s lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” She nudges me playfully. “He’s real easy on the eyes.”
Understatement of the year!
I roll my eyes, fighting the heat rising in my cheeks. “I’m engaged, remember?” I flash my left hand at her.
“Oh, please,” she waves me off. “I saw what James did to you yesterday. It’s no secret I never really liked that man for you—”
“Not now, please.” I cut her off, my voice brittle.
“I’m worried about you, mija.”
“Helen,” I say, my tone final. “We’ll talk later.”
“Well, at least your lawyer doesn’t seem like the heartless type,” she says, gazing at Matthew.
“Appearances can be deceiving. Besides, he’s not my lawyer. He works for Bancroft.”
“Maybe,” Helen concedes. “But just because he works for that heartless geezer, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a heart.”
“I hope you’re right.” I pick up the two mugs, steeling myself. “For all our sakes.”
I walk back to the table. Lou and Matthew look immersed in conversation. Apprehension wars with a sudden heat. Matthew’s expression is serious, yet somehow gentle. After yesterday’s curt dismissal, I hadn’t expected to see him again so soon.
“Sorry, I forgot to ask how you take your coffee,” I interrupt, setting one of the mugs in front of Matthew.
My fingers brush his. Electricity shoots up my arm. For a second, the world disappears, replaced by the warmth of his skin against mine and the sound of my own quickened breath.
“Oh, black is perfectly fine, thank you,” he murmurs. But it’s his eyes that capture my attention.
For a fleeting moment, I see a vulnerability in those light greens. A hint of the man beneath the lawyer’s facade. Then, just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by a guarded expression. His jaw clenches.
I take the chair next to Lou, across from Matthew.
The small table offers little room. As I settle in, my knee brushes against his.
A jolt of awareness sparks through me. Matthew’s shoulders stiffen, his spine snapping straight.
I shift, trying to create distance, but his leg remains where it is, a steady heat against mine.
I try to ignore it, but the point of contact sears.
Persistent. Impossible to dismiss.
All the while, his gaze remains fixed on Lou, but his jaw works silently.
His long fingers curl around the mug, thumb absently stroking the handle.
Matthew’s gaze flicks down, ever so briefly, towards our legs, then quickly back up.
He tugs at his tie, loosening the knot with a sharp jerk.
He inhales deeply, his broad chest expanding.
I watch the movement, mesmerized. Then, I catch myself.
He’s the man hired to take away my livelihood.
But even as the thought forms, I can’t deny the pull I feel towards him. A pull that defies logic.
A vibration in my pocket breaks the spell. I pull out my phone and glance at the screen. A text from James:
Rejecting me last night was very shitty of you Mimi but I can’t stay mad at you.
A shiver of disgust runs through me. I quickly place the phone face down.
Matthew’s gaze falls on my left hand, lingering on the ring that now adorns my finger. I instinctively clench my fist, hiding the diamond from his view. The reminder of the tangled web I’m caught in twists in my stomach.
“I was just telling Matthew how when you first started working here, you were a timid little thing. New in town, new to the café. But now look at you,” Lou carries on, oblivious to the tension. “A confident businesswoman and the heart and soul of Maddy’s Place.”
I try to focus on Lou’s words, but it’s hard. I steal a glance at Matthew. Our gazes lock for a fleeting moment. A silent conversation passes between us, heavy with unspoken questions. But they are quickly pushed aside as dread engulfs me. I force a smile, my expression a mask.
“Sadly,” I begin, my voice catching, “my days here may be numbered.” I can’t keep the news from Lou any longer. “Matthew is Harold Bancroft’s lawyer. Bancroft wants the café gone, so he’s refusing to renew our lease.”
Lou’s eyebrows shoot up. “Why, that’s preposterous!”
Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He stares into his black coffee, avoiding Lou’s gaze.
“How can you represent a man like that?” Lou’s question is more of an accusation.
Matthew shakes his head and releases a long sigh.
“Harold is a valued client at our firm. He’s been with us for years.
” He steals another glance at me, and this time, his eyes linger, a shadow of an apology in their depths.
“He’s just a businessman looking after his own interests,” he says, voice flat.
I frown into my coffee, his words stinging like a slap. Anger rises. I want to scream, to throw my coffee in his face, to do anything to shake him out of his lawyerly indifference.
“And what about my Amy’s interests?” Lou speaks up.
Matthew lets out an exasperated exhale.
“Don’t worry, Lou.” I reach across and cover his hand with mine. “I’m not giving up on Maddy’s Place. I’ll figure something out.”
“I never doubted your strength, my dear,” Lou says, patting my hand. “But the worst part about being as strong as you are, Amy, is that nobody knows how much you’re hurting.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Matthew interjects, his voice low.
My head snaps up. Our eyes meet.
He knows. He’s seen.
The thought is both terrifying and strangely comforting.
Matthew rips his eyes from mine. His jaw tightens as he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor. “Nice meeting you, Lou.”
“That’s Louis to you,” Lou corrects him.
“Louis,” Matthew repeats, sending him a curt nod before heading toward my office.
I watch him walk away, my gaze snagged on the confident line of his shoulders.
The same man whose job it is to take my dream away is the one who offered me a safe place to sleep.
He’s the ruthless lawyer who holds my future in his hands, yet he’s the kind stranger who sat on the floor and gently wiped away my tears.
How can they possibly be the same person?
“That young man had me fooled,” Lou says in disappointment.
“You and me both,” I mutter, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Lou asks gently.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” I confess, looking down at my hands clasped around the warm mug. “And I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me?” he echoes, surprised. “You can never disappoint me.” He squeezes my hand. I squeeze back, grateful for this kind old man who has become the father I never had.
I glance at his book and its worn cover. “Don’t you wish life was more like a novel?” I ask with a wistful smile. “A little less messy, a little more predictable…”
“Meaningless,” Lou says.
“Easier,” I counter.
“My dear, nothing worthwhile ever comes easy.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my eyebrows rising and falling. “I’m learning that.” I sip my coffee, hoping to draw some strength from the caffeine, but the anxiety remains, a cold weight in my chest.
“You’re not alone in this,” he reminds me, his gaze steady. “So many people love this place and wouldn’t want to see it close.”
I nod, drawing strength from his words.
“I’m ready to help you in every way that I can,” he adds.
“Thanks, Lou,” I smile, rising from my chair. “Well, better not keep Matthew waiting.”
“He’s a good man, that Matthew,” Lou says, making me spin back.
“You made him call you Louis,” I remind him, amused.
“I didn’t say what he’s doing is right,” Lou says, defensive. “I’m simply saying that a person shouldn’t be defined by their job.”
“Simply…” I nod, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Simply,” he repeats with a shrug and a playful wink.
“I’ll talk to you later, Lou.”
“I’ll be here,” he replies, making me chuckle as I walk toward my office.
Just as I reach the door, it swings open.
I collide with a solid chest. Air rushes from my lungs.
For a split second, I’m disoriented, but the scent of cedar-wood and spice grounds me in the chaos.
I gasp, my hands flying up to brace myself against him just as a strong arm encircles my waist, preventing my fall.
My hands splay against the crisp fabric of his shirt, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Heat flares at the sudden intimacy.
But this time, there’s no table to hide behind. No Lou to act as a buffer.
His grip tightens, pulling me closer.
I look up. Matthew’s gaze sears mine. His eyes, usually guarded and cool, blaze with fire.
He’s close.
So close I can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over my lips. My body is aware of every point of contact, every shift in his weight.
For a moment, we just stand there. Frozen. Hearts pounding.
Before I can process what’s happening, Matthew pulls me backward into the office. I stumble, trying to keep up. With a swift, decisive movement, he kicks the door shut and presses me up against it. His briefcase lands with a thud at our feet.
His eyes search mine. Need swirls in their turbulent depths. His professional composure is gone.
My mouth falls open.
A silent gasp.
My lungs forget how to work.