Pretend Partners at the Cafe

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Lizzie

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Christians get married faster than most people do. Except for me, apparently. At twenty-seven years old, I have everything I need: my business, my family, my friends, and a small town I love.

But I have no prospects for marriage, and I guess that should frighten me. But it doesn’t…sometimes. Not after my failed engagement. Not after Mama keeps pressuring me to get married. I look down at the wedding invitation in my hand.

We cordially invite you to attend the wedding of Jay Gatsby and Nic Caraway.

My best friend Nic and good friend Jay are getting married this month.

I can’t believe Nic is about to have a whole husband.

I’m one maid of honor for the wedding, sharing the role with our other best friend, Jane Eyre.

We’ve planned to go to the wedding without dates.

Mama, who keeps texting me links to dating apps, is not okay with me not having a date for the wedding.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes on the counter, and I glance over at it.

Mama’s text message includes no greeting, just a link to a Christian dating app she thinks I should try.

I give her message a thumbs down and look at the wedding invitation again, thinking about why she even bothers to send me these so early in the morning.

My phone buzzes again, and I groan, looking down at it to see what app Mama thinks I should try now.

But thanks be unto God, it is not a text from her.

It’s a text from the group chat I share with my four sisters: Janet, the eldest; Mary and Kitty, the middle sisters; and Lydia, the youngest. They are early risers like me, so I’m not surprised.

Janet: I got my wedding invitation in the mail today! Charlie and I are so excited. Haven’t been to a wedding since my wedding.

Mary: That was forever ago. Chill. But I got my invite too. Already RSVP’d.

Lydia: LOL…I will RSVP right now.

Kitty: I LOVEEEEE weddings. I hope they have a good DJ because I will dance at this function. And I RSVP’d too.

Mary: She’s only saying that because Janet’s wedding was boring and had a no-dancing rule.

Lydia: Once again… LOL.

Kitty: We need more weddings to happen so I can PARTYYYY!

Me: You all need help.

Mary: You would say that…

Me: What’s that supposed to mean?

Lydia: The older sisters always think the younger sisters need help.

Janet: I am not that concerned about you all to think that.

Mary: Lies!

Me: I gotta admit I’m actually not that invested in you guys to be thinking about whether you need help, so...

Lydia: YOU KNOW YOU LOVE US, LIZZIE!

Kitty: You better love us or I’m not coming to your wedding.

Me: I’m not getting married at the moment. No matter what Mama says.

Janet: I would know if there was a wedding happening…no one in this group chat may get married without notifying me first.

Mary: I will elope when it’s time for me to get married and then send pictures of my new husband in the group chat to rub it in all your faces.

Lydia: That’s diabolical…. I LOVE IT.

Me: Mary the manic is at it again, folks.

Mary: And so is Lizzie, the lame… apparently.

Janet: No fighting, girls. Our parents raised us better than that.

Me: Fine. Later losers. Love ya.

The kitchen door opens. I don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Morning, Boss Lady.”

I narrow my eyes but keep them on the phone in front of me. “I told you to stop calling me that, Darcy.”

“And I told you to call me Will.”

I look up at him now, eyes still narrowed. “Will,” I say.

I don’t have the energy to argue with him. I have been up since 4 a.m. because I have to get to the cafe early in the morning. It’s Monday, and I’m feeling every bit of the early morning rush I have to prepare for, and yet I possess none of the energy for it.

Selah Falls, Illinois may be a small town, but the residents love their coffee and apple cider all year. And they like their baked goods too, which is why I hired Will Darcy, the new baker, ten months ago.

“I’ll make you breakfast if you’re nice to me today,” he says.

“I can make my own breakfast, Darcy.”

“Okay,” he responds, moving closer to me. I side-eye him as he settles next to me, leaning on the counter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say, but I don’t know if I believe it. My eyes find the wedding invitation as I put my phone down on the counter next to it.

“Oh,” Will says, walking away. “I didn’t know you still got a wedding invitation if you’re in the wedding.”

“Yeah, maid of honor or not, I guess they have to know if I’m coming alone or not.”

Will’s back is to me as he washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Going to the wedding alone?” he asks, putting on an apron.

I don’t have enough coffee in my system for this conversation. “Why do you care, Darcy?”

“I’m going solo, too. I got my invitation a week ago.”

I look at him, blinking slowly. “Yeah, but you’re just a guest. It’s different for me.”

He’s silent for a moment, and I’m thankful for the chance to sit in my sorrow.

“I’m better off alone,” I say aloud to myself.

“You are not built to be a loner, Boss Lady.”

I look away from the wedding invitation and look at Will. He pulls out a baking pan and ingredients to make a batch of apple cinnamon rolls for the morning rush of customers we’ll have in a couple of hours.

“No one asked you,” I say, sighing. “I’m talking to myself, Darcy. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh,” he chuckles, working on the rolls.

I watch him as he moves meticulously and effortlessly.

He’s swift with his movements, sprinkling cinnamon and spices here, a little dash of sugar there.

He whisks the icing in a bowl with ease before moving back to the perfectly shaped rolls on the nonstick baking sheet.

He asks, “So, you’re doing that again, huh? ”

“I talk to myself because it’s much more fun than talking to you. You are a man who can’t help me right now.” I pout, putting on an apron and washing my hands as well.

I need to get started on the drinks for the day. Will handles the baked goods, but I’m the barista and owner of the cafe, so I have to be prepared to serve the best drinks in town and run things. That and I can’t let Will outdo me by coming into work and getting right to it.

I’ve been here for about an hour, but I had to do some paperwork and owner admin tasks before I got to the drink-making part of it all. The perks of being the boss and the barista. I stifle a yawn.

I glance at myself in the small mirror near the kitchen sink on the wall.

My wild, curly waves are pulled back in a low ponytail with a black baseball cap that has the Bennet Cafe logo on it.

The black cap matches the black apron I have on over my work uniform, which is just a short-sleeved black top, black slacks, and black non-slip shoes.

I might look like I’m ready for the day. I feel like I’m ready to go back to bed. The digital clock next to the mirror flashes the time, which shows me that ready or not, it’s way too early for most people to be up.

But I am not most people, so here I am up before the sun, tired. I have no time to sleep or find a man. And I have a business to run…so instead of complaining, I pray, “Lord, this is the day that you have made, so I will rejoice and be glad in it. Amen!”

“I love Psalm 118:24; that’s one of my favorite verses,” Will says from his spot by the counter, still working on his rolls. I jump, forgetting he’s there for a second and not realizing that he heard me.

“Do you believe in God, Darcy?” I ask, ignoring the embarrassment threatening to make an appearance. Instead, I slide right into our back and forth bickering that seems to be the only way we know how to communicate.

“I’ve literally gone to church with you, Boss Lady. You know I believe in God.”

He’s telling the truth, obviously. I have literally invited him to Bible study, small groups led by Jane, and Sunday morning services at Selah Church as well.

He’s been in regular attendance since coming to town in the fall.

Since he was a newbie here, I invited him to church to be nice.

I can be nice to him; I choose to dip into my gift of sarcasm because with him it’s so easy to do.

He leans into it, taking my bait every time.

It’s natural for us, like we speak our own language or something.

Which makes working with him much more interesting, since I used to spend mornings here alone, baking and prepping drinks for the cafe.

I used to talk to myself then, well, I still talk to myself, but it’s nice to have someone else around that I can talk to if I want to.

“Right, right,” I say, glaring at him as I set my drink station up on the opposite side of the counter.

We face each other as I organize my drink mixes and spices. I also double-check my journal. I use it to track which drinks are performing best each week, to jot down recipes, and to keep notes about the cafe business.

It’s August, and late summer in Selah means new menu items. In Selah, some cold-weather favorites stay favorites all year round.

I mark that on my list in my journal and keep the apple cider latte and the cinnamon swirl latte on the menu for summer.

After that, I go through the cabinets and the fridge to check for ingredients I will need for today.

“Any requests for end of summer-themed drinks, Darcy?” I ask. I figure that now is a good time to chat with him before I start talking to myself again.

“Are you talking to me now, Boss Lady?” he asks, a sly, teasing smile dancing on his lips. He picks up the baking pan of apple cinnamon rolls, ready to put them in the oven.

“Yes, I am. Now, speak now or forever hold your peace, Darcy.”