Chapter 5
I DECIDED AGAINST dumping fake boyfriend Adam.
Honestly, it just seemed more hassle than it was worth.
And in the realm of fake boyfriends I guess he’s not the absolute worst. While he still won’t order more than coffee at A Cup of Joy, he’s done us the courtesy of upping his intake.
Plus he has a habit of dropping gold coins in our little tip jar at the counter.
‘We’re running low on almond milk,’ Hattie says over the hiss of the coffee machine.
‘How low?’
‘Low enough that you need to duck out and grab some to tide us over until this afternoon’s delivery or we’ll have a riot on our hands when the book club comes in.
They all decided last week to trial a dairy-free lifestyle after one of them said it cleared up her eczema.
And then another one shared an article on how it’s good for digestion. ’
‘Can we—’ At Hattie’s quirked brow, I swallow my words about how we should find an article on the benefits of consuming dairy, and I bundle myself into my black puffer jacket, zipping it all the way up to my chin.
And to think I’d considered asking if I could join that book club.
As a romance-only club, it was right up my alley. A dairy-free lifestyle though? Hell no.
‘Thank you,’ Hattie calls out before the door chimes shut behind me.
I shove my hands deep into my pockets and blow out my cheeks as the bitter cold hits my face. Despite moving from Coffs Harbour to Melbourne five years ago, I’m still not accustomed to the winter here.
The loud ding of an approaching tram sends me scurrying across the road to the tram stop right outside my apartment building.
I bound up the steps and squeeze into the crowded carriage for the four-minute journey squished between a man watching a video on his phone without headphones and a couple of teenagers with large backpacks that ram into me with each jostle of the tram.
‘Excuse me,’ I squeak as we approach my stop and I try to squeeze my way to the door, and I vow to brave the cold and walk back to the cafe.
Ten minutes later I’m carrying not only six cartons of milk, but also a mountain of regret.
I trudge back down the road, out of breath and getting hotter with every step.
I attempt to tug the zip of my puffer down as I pass my favourite dumpling place.
I’m salivating at the heavenly smells wafting through their door, and I do a quick calculation to see if I can afford a visit for dinner tonight instead of dining on the instant noodles in my pantry.
I’m still struggling through the mental arithmetic when I spot a familiar head of blond hair, scowl etched across his red face.
Like me, he’s panting slightly. Unlike me, his puffing is a result of a workout and not from carrying a few cartons of non-dairy milk.
From my completely normal, and not at all stalkerish, observations of Adam, I know that he is returning from his daily run and will soon be in the cafe, freshly showered and smelling divine, with his laptop under his arm.
Drawing closer I see that he’s staring at something in his hand.
A slip of paper I’d recognise anywhere. Those parking inspectors are quick with their fines around here and it’s one of the many reasons I am grateful for the parking spot that came with the cafe.
Luckily Hattie doesn’t drive so I snapped up that spot quicker than I would a piece of chocolate cake.
And thank the heavens above because my apartment building doesn’t have parking.
Our options are the creepy parking lot two blocks away or dancing along the knife’s edge of two-hour street parking and risking our chances with the inspectors.
‘You need to watch out for those inspectors,’ I say with only a slight tinge of smugness in my voice. ‘Back when I had to brave parking out here, I’d set an alarm on my phone to avoid that.’ I jerk my chin towards the ticket and lug my cartons inside.
‘Bless you.’ Hattie wriggles her fingers eagerly at the heavy bags in my hands. ‘We need to up our order of this stuff. I feel like all of Richmond has suddenly become pro-almond.’
‘Maybe if we turn this place into an almond-milk-only cafe that’ll bring the masses in.’
Hattie’s tight smile puts me back in my place.
‘I was playing around with some new slice recipes last night and came up with this idea to do like an ode to the Arnott’s biscuit,’ I say quickly, trying to bring that twinkle to her eye that was a permanent fixture when we were planning this place.
‘We can roll out the classics and turn them into a fun slice. The Iced VoVo, the Monte Carlo, Wagon Wheels. The list goes on. What do you think?’
Hattie removes the nearly empty tray of mini coconut cakes from the display case and replaces it with custard-filled donuts.
‘I think it’s a good idea. I’m just wondering if it’s something we hold off on. Until after your family vacay.’
‘That’s like a month away,’ I say.
‘Yes but you’re already leaving your replacement with quite a long list of recipes.
I think adding a whole bunch more might be a bit much.
’ She snags one of the donuts and drops it into my palm for the post-walk sugar hit she just knows I need.
‘Besides, you have enough on your plate. You have an assessment due tomorrow, another next week and you’re fending off your mum’s constant messages about Adam going with you all to England. ’
I flap a hand at her. ‘I have it all under control.’ I bite into the donut and skip off to the kitchen to whip up another batch of mini coconut cakes before the book club comes in.
While I’m doing that, I’ll also quietly panic about the to-do list Hattie spread out before me and that I absolutely do not have under control.
Or even a loose grip on. Those two assessments are hovering over me like a storm cloud that I’m trying desperately to outrun while dodging Mum’s requests for Adam’s phone number like a nimble ninja.
Cakes in the oven, I reemerge to find Adam at his usual table, cheeks still pink, hair damp.
He rolls up the sleeves of his grey jumper and cracks his knuckles as though preparing to type like a man on a mission.
It would be the first mission of its kind here.
Not that I’m judging him or anything, but his hands seem to spend more time rearranging the salt and pepper shakers than they do clacking on the keys.
‘Your fake boyfriend’s waiting for this.’ Hattie practically forces his coffee into my hands.
I carry it over and place it carefully in front of him. Last week I wasn’t so careful and a tiny splatter of hot liquid got too close to his laptop and shaved a few years off his life. And mine. I feel like he’d be the type of person to make me buy him a new one and I definitely can’t afford that.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ I ask just like I do every time he comes in.
And then, as always, I try and pretend that I’m not inhaling him and whatever incredible scent he splashes on himself.
There was one day last week where my sniff was a tad too loud and I had to play it off as an allergy.
Hattie almost doubled over from laughing so hard.
‘No,’ he says.
‘Are you sure? We have some custard donuts that are to die for.’
He blinks at me, his ridiculously long lashes brushing the tiny freckle under his left eye and I wait for him to decline before I offer another option.
It’s become a little routine that’s as predictable as his lack of typing.
It’s a shame that computer doesn’t see much action.
It’s all shiny and looks brand new. Fake Adam would let me borrow it in a heartbeat and save me from the dinosaur I currently use that takes an eternity to boot up.
His rejection of the donut doesn’t come and the tiniest sliver of hope swirls inside me.
Has my persistence paid off? Dad’s always said I could talk a polar bear into buying ice.
To which my sister Gabi would point out that polar bears don’t talk or have money.
She could never just let me have a compliment.
‘Let me grab you a donut.’ I can feel an excessive level of eagerness pulsating off me.
He raises the cup to his lips, his eyes on my face in a way that is far too similar to the way he looked at my flour-smeared face in the elevator ride to Kathleen’s.
My hand flies to my cheek, searching for a trail of flour.
Coming up clean, I stop myself from scowling at him, remembering I’m about to close the donut deal.
‘No,’ he says, those eyes still fixed on me.
I trail my thumb over my lips just in case the custard from the donut has left behind a smudge.
The scowl I fought against breaks free. He really needs to do us both a favour and find another cafe to sit and stare in all day long.
Then I’d only need to deal with him if I bumped into him in the apartment building.
Or at next year’s annual gathering at Kathleen’s, which clearly he’ll be at because the two of them are besties.
‘How long have you known Kathleen?’ The question is out of my mouth before I even know it’s happening.
His brows pull together. He’s clearly confused how we went from donuts to our neighbour. He drums his fingers against the table in a slow and steady beat, as he lets his silence stretch into the land of awkwardness. The land where time stands still and people like me wilt.
I latch on to the only subject that could save me from drowning under that stare.
‘Surely she would’ve warned you about the parking inspectors before you moved in.
She really gets a bee in her bonnet about it.
’ I can feel my face getting warmer under his scrutiny and for sounding like an eighty-year-old.
Bee in her bonnet? Where did that come from?
‘I let her use my spot out the back here sometimes,’ I add with a toss of my head towards the back of the cafe where my dusty Hyundai is safe from parking fines.
His brows rise ever so slightly.
‘I haven’t had a single fine since we got the keys to this place,’ I say like it’s my proudest achievement.
‘Yep, not one,’ I add when he continues to stare and say absolutely nothing.
Maybe this is why Kathleen likes him so much.
She is free to talk to her heart’s content without interruption.
I could just imagine all the things she tells him.
Maybe things like whether a certain baking audition was successful or not, something she has not informed me of.
She’d said it was a process, that other cafes were in the running, that patience was required.
A gentle nudge from her favourite neighbour might get A Cup of Joy over the line.
I draw in a breath and slowly push the vase back into the centre of his table.
‘Kathleen is considering us for a catering job. If you, um, if you wanted to, um—’ I swallow.
‘Put in a good word for you?’
‘If you wanted to. You come in here almost every day so you must be a fan.’ That last word comes out all high-pitched and sounding like a question I’m not entirely convinced I know the answer to.
‘I could,’ he says and my heart flutters at the dollar signs flashing across my eyes. ‘But that might interfere with her process. And I’d hate for the other cafes in the running to cry favouritism.’
‘I don’t see how they’d ever find out.’
‘It’s a very small world.’
My jaw tightens as he lifts his cup to his lips, studying me over the rim.
The door chimes and a blast of wintry air rushes in, fanning the heat in my cheeks. The book club bustles in and that momentary distraction draws Adam’s eyes from mine.
I almost gasp for breath and slip away before they suck me in again.