7. Too Little, Too Latte #2
The sight of him, seated at the counter like any other customer, felt wrong. Ansel Tyler didn’t belong in this café, drinking coffee, trying to…what? Talk ?
I exhaled sharply, keeping my hands busy as I poured him a glass of water.
Professionalism is the key to avoiding emotions, Neha, so, keep it professional.
“You make good coffee,” he murmured.
“Yeah, we assistants are good at that.” The words slipped out to my horror and laid bare the hurt I still carried.
I wiped my hands on a towel and busied myself behind the counter, hoping he’d take the hint.
Of course, he didn’t.
“How have you been?” he asked, like we were casually catching up instead of sitting in the aftermath of everything.
I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “I’m fine, Ansel. You know I poured your coffee in a to-go cup so you’ll go to… out.” Hell, actually. So, you’ll go to hell!
I heard his exhale, saw his fingers tighten against the paper cup, and I feared he’d burn himself and make a mess that I’d have to clean up. Nothing new—I’d been doing that for three years for this overgrown toddler.
“I deserve the attitude,” he admitted, “I understand it. But can we talk like grown-ups?”
Oh no, he didn’t!
I set down my cleaning rag, folding my arms. “I don’t work for you anymore, Ansel. There’s nothing to talk about. ”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m just being polite, Neha, asking how you’re doing. That’s all.”
My breath caught somewhere in my chest and I wanted— no, needed —to hit him when I’d never raised my hand at anyone in my whole life.
“Polite, huh? You mean like you were when you took me out to lunch to soften the blow of firing my incapable of working for you ass?”
Penny walked up to the counter then, tapping the order into the POS system before sliding a chit toward me. “Two café lattes with whole milk and one masala chai,” she called out.
I grabbed the receipt and reached for the milk pitcher, hoping against hope my asshole ex-boss would leave before I poured a hot drink all over him.
The arrogant son of a bitch was asking me if I could behave like a grown up? Well, I wasn’t the one who listened to gossip and rumors and treated me with disrespect? I wasn’t the one who told a colleague that I wasn’t good enough to go up to his stupid fortieth floor with him.
By the time I had made the drinks, I was fuming.
Once done, I came to Ansel. “I want you to leave.”
He tilted his head. “I know how you feel.”
“Good, then get out.”
He smiled. “I have missed you.”
I’m going to fuck this asshole up! Penny could use my savings for bail money. It’d be worth it.
I considered walking out, but I didn’t want to make a scene, and some stubborn, foolish part of me wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Fine, talk. You have five minutes.” I stood with my hands on my hips, mustering as much dignity as I could in my Sun & Chai apron that had a ridiculous cartoon sun winking over a steaming cup of chai, with the slogan: Rise and Chai stitched beneath it.
Not exactly a power suit I used to wear at Sterling, but at least here, I wasn’t getting stabbed in the back.
“I—” He hesitated, his gaze flicking away before meeting mine again. “I shouldn’t have said what I did to Vanessa. That was wrong of me.” He swallowed, like the words tasted bitter in his mouth. “I didn’t mean it.”
A sharp, humorless laugh slipped out. “You did mean it, Ansel. That’s the worst part. You just didn’t expect me to hear it.”
His jaw tightened. “It wasn’t personal—”“Not personal?” My voice was cold, but my hands were trembling. “I gave everything to that job. To you. And you threw me away the second someone spilled some bullshit about me to you. How exactly is that not personal?”
He looked pained, as though he hadn’t expected this conversation to be difficult. Like he’d convinced himself that simply showing up and uttering the words I’m sorry would magically fix everything—that we’d instantly be pals again, because in his screwed-up mind, I clearly had zero self-respect.
He propped himself up on his forearms. “I screwed up. I shouldn’t have listened to—”“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I shook my head, cutting him off. “You made yourself perfectly clear.”
On second thought, no, I didn’t want to hear his feeble excuses. They would only make me feel worse.
“Neha—”
“You came here to make yourself feel better,” I said, watching the shock register on his face.
“You thought you could show up, throw out an apology, and—just like that—ease your guilt, or whatever it is you’re feeling.
You thought all you had to do was say the magic three words— I am sorry —and I’d fall all over myself, ready to forgive and forget. ”
I didn’t know what he expected from me. Forgiveness? Understanding? Whatever it was, I didn’t have it to give.
“I’m sincere, Neha.”
Now, I actually let out a dry chuckle. “That’s what I used to think.
But the fact that you could tell me you didn’t know how you’d do your job without me, and then turn around and say I wasn’t good enough to work for you, that told me everything I need to know about your sincerity .
” I folded my arms, meeting his gaze head-on.
“You’re not sincere, Ansel. You’re not authentic. You’re just like everyone else—saying whatever you need to say to get what you want.”
Ansel looked hurt. Aww !
“I know what you did for me at work, Neha. I appreciated it.”
“Really? You can say that with a straight face?”
He looked sad now. “Yes, I can because since you’ve been gone it’s been hell.”
Is that why he was back? He was missing his just an assistant . Well, he could go fuck himself!
I let out a long deep cleansing breath and kept my voice flat when I said, “If that’s all, you should go.”
For the first time since I’d known him, Ansel looked confused, unsure, not confident at all. I wasn’t falling into line, everyone around him always did. The entitled prick!
“Neha, how can I make this right?”
You can’t , you dickhead. You can’t fix what you broke inside of me. You can’t make me unhear the shit you said about me. You can’t make me un-feel the humiliation of resigning—not because I wanted to, but because I knew if I stayed, you’d fire me.
I met his gaze. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m not here to help you feel better about how you behaved.”
“Neha—”
“You know what your problem is? You’re an entitled son of a bitch who always gets what he wants without having to work too hard for it.”
His jaw tightened, but I wasn’t done.
“I’m a woman of color, Ansel. I’ve had to work twice as hard just to get the smallest career wins, just to be seen, just to prove I’m worth a seat at the table. And you?” I shook my head in disgust. “You don’t want to make anything right. You just want to ease your guilty conscience.”
I took a step back, my voice cold and final.
“Do us both a favor—get the fuck out and don’t come back.”
Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked into the kitchen.