1. Coffee Shop Hottie #2
“Nothing,” she says. “Have a great day!”
It’s a little after lunch when Viv breezes into my office and plops into a rattan armchair, interrupting my musings about whether the guy from the coffee shop will be there again tomorrow. Not that I care.
“How was the call? Please tell me we landed a pitch meeting.” I press my palms together and give Viv the biggest, best puppy-dog eyes I can muster.
With a dramatic sigh, Viv draws her wavy auburn hair into a butterfly clip. “Would you expect anything less?” She brushes off her shoulder, like we used to do in high school.
I jump up, squealing. We do a quick happy dance together before she sits me back down and pulls out her notebook filled with chaotic notes that make sense to her and her alone.
“Okay, so with this timeline, you’re going to have to offload some of your work to Cori.”
That’s going to be a no from me. “I’m not on board with that. I can get it all done, trust me.”
“I know you can, but only at the expense of your sleep and general well-being. You need to share the workload, Liv. This client is massive. Give the work you can do in your sleep to Cori—she deserves it and can do the job. This way you can pour your beautiful little heart into knocking this thing out of the park.”
Groaning, I roll my eyes and drop my face into my hands, ready to make another argument. “I can—”
“Liv.” There’s no wiggle room for argument. She’s right. We both know it.
“Fine.”
“Fantastic. I’ll send her in. Oh, hey, thanks for grabbing the coffee again. It’s my turn tomorrow!” Viv says as she stands.
“I’m happy to go again tomorrow,” I say, a little too quickly, sparking Viv’s spidey senses.
Her eyes narrow, scrutinizing me, but I’m glued to the computer screen, refusing to look directly at her. Viv gasps with a dramatic intake of air.
“You have something you’re not telling me!” She plants herself back in the chair.
“No, I don’t. I just—”
“Spill it!”
Trying to hide anything from Viv is impossible. She’s like a damn bloodhound.
“There was a hot guy in the coffee shop. I blocked his way to the bathroom.”
Her whole body seems to vibrate with misplaced excitement. “Say less!” she says, waving her hands frantically in front of her. “Girl, you can get coffee for the rest of the week if it means you’ll talk to him.”
Talk to him? No. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just enjoy staring at him from a distance—if he’s even there again, which he probably won’t be. He did have a really nice voice, though. It was so… rugged.”
“Well, that sounds sexy as hell. We’ll call him”—Viv taps her chin—“Coffee Shop Hottie. If he’s there tomorrow, please talk to him. What have you got to lose?”
I scoff.
“Want me to go with you? I can knock over his coffee cup and offer to have you wash his shirt for him… back at your place.” Her eyebrows jump, a conspiratorial look on her face.
“Oh, goodness, absolutely not.” I hide behind my hands, taking a deep breath before leveling my gaze at her.
“Fine, then you’ll just have to do it all on your own.”
I say nothing. She waits, the silence stretching.
“You’re not going to talk to him, are you?”
Sighing, I redirect my attention back to her. “I don’t have time for distractions, Viv. We have a pitch to plan.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll Venmo you for the coffee.”
The streets are alive with people heading out for Friday happy hour.
Restaurants have opened their outdoor dining areas alongside the warmer weather, and delicious smells, music, and laughter drift on the breeze.
I stop on the corner, waiting for the crossing signal right in front of the open-door flower shop, allowing the sights, smells and sounds to drown out my thoughts.
I grab the mail when I enter my building and hike the six flights to my apartment.
I got a great deal on the rent because I was willing to overlook the fact that there isn’t an elevator.
Like, at all. So, this walk-up has become my daily workout.
I have a minor obsession with croissants, and hiking up these stairs every day allows me to indulge. It’s called balance.
Reaching the top floor, I slip the key into the deadbolt. “Sunny! Here, kitty, kitty.” The door swings shut behind me, the clink of the lock echoing throughout the small space.
My orange tabby wanders in and weaves between my ankles, purring loudly. “Now here’s a man,” I say, scooping him up and kissing his head, “who will always love me.” Sunny wiggles from my hands, trots to his empty food dish and back again, meowing incessantly. “Just as long as I feed him.”
I sift through the mail, looking for a letter that never comes.
Tossing most of it into the garbage, my eyes stall on the business card stuck to the side of the fridge amid the small mural of my life: a couple of pictures of Gram, Pop, and me, a picture of Viv and me after graduation, and a picture of Sunny when he was a kitten.
Chewing the side of my lip, I slide open the junk drawer, digging around for the one photograph I own that never made it onto the fridge.
I find it—a picture of my mom and me when I was three. I don’t remember this moment, but in the picture, she’s got me snug on her hip, arms around me, our heads tilted toward one another. We look so happy. I close my eyes as a memory crashes in—a tidal wave threatening to drown me.
“Gram?”
“Hm?”
“Where’s Mommy?”
Pop places his newspaper on the kitchen table, glancing at Gram, who has stopped flipping pancakes but hasn’t turned to face me yet. I push the scrambled eggs around on my plate, peeking up at Gram, waiting for her to answer.
Gram peers over her shoulder. “She left.” Her voice sounds funny.
I know she left. She left a whole week ago and should be back by now.
“When is she coming back?”
Gram’s shoulders curl in, saying nothing. After a moment, she inhales deeply and straightens her spine, turning to face me and Pop at the table. “I don’t know if she is.”
My face scrunches, brows knit in confusion. “What about me?”
“You’ll stay here with us.”
“How come I couldn’t go with her?”
Pop pulls his glasses off, placing them on the table. Rubbing his eyes, he shakes his head. I look at him, thinking he’s going to answer me, but it’s Gram who answers instead.
“Because that’s no life for a child. Now eat your eggs before they get cold.”
I scoff, shoving the picture back into the drawer and slamming it shut. Why do I do this to myself? Gripping the edge of the counter, I take a few deep breaths.
Sunny rubs his body against my leg, tail curling around my calf. I hoist him up and bury my face in his fur. The tension drains out of me as the steady rhythm of his purring reminds me I’m not really alone. I have Sunny.
I kiss his head and look up at the business card again, considering it. A while back, Viv gave me the information for a private investigator that her family knew well. Just in case you ever decide to find her, she had said.
And what if I find her? Then what happens? Are we just supposed to… move on? What if she doesn’t want to be found? I stare at the card, as if willing it to make the decision for me. I suppose I’ll never know if I don’t try. Isn’t that what Pop always says?
Ugh. I bury my face in Sunny’s fur. Screw it.
Feeling bold, I fire off a quick email to the PI.
I pause, thumb hovering over the screen.
There’s no turning back after this. Closing my eyes, and inhaling a fortifying breath, I open them and click send.
The whoosh of the email carries my heart with it, and a tiny spark of hope ignites in my soul.