Chapter 9
nine
LUCY
The last few days have flown past in a blur, each one spilling into the next before I even get a chance to catch my breath.
The café’s been busier than usual, tables full, orders piling up, the clatter of cups and chatter blending into a comforting chaos.
I’m not complaining, though. Not even a little.
There’s something about the constant motion, the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods, the tiny moments of connection with regulars and strangers alike that makes me feel alive, even on the days that start before the sun.
I’m tucked behind the counter with my tablet, handling the not so glamorous part of café life, checking inventory and what needs to be reordered before next week, when the door chimes.
I glance up just as Aidan walks in, Isla’s small hand clasped tightly in his.
He moves like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders but trying not to crush her with it.
“Good morning,” I say, my voice a little too chipper for how early it is. There it is again. That little flutter in my chest I’m trying so hard to ignore. “What can I get you both today?”
Aidan gives me a curt nod, his eyes meeting mine for the briefest of seconds before his attention shifts down to his daughter. “Black coffee and a hot chocolate, please.”
I catch Isla eyeing the fresh cinnamon buns in the display case. “Daddy, can we please get one of those?” Her voice is a sweet little plea.
Aidan’s brow furrows just enough that it’s obvious he’s weighing his options. For a moment, I almost expect him to say no. Then he looks down at Isla, her wide eyes full of hope, and I catch the moment his tough exterior cracks just a little.
“All right,” he sighs, giving in with a reluctant smile. “We can share one.”
“Great choice.” I shoot a wink in Isla’s direction. “Sit wherever you’d like. I’ll bring everything to your table when it’s ready.”
Isla’s chestnut curls bounce with each step as she skips toward a table, her little shoes tapping the floor. Mid-stride, she spins around, beaming at me. “Thank you, Miss Lucy!” she calls before turning back to her dad with a giggle.
As I prepare their order, I can’t help but steal a few glances in their direction.
Isla is in full storyteller mode, her small hands waving around wildly as she recounts whatever adventure she’s on about today.
Aidan listens intently, his stormy eyes focused completely on her.
Every now and then, the corners of his mouth twitch, the faintest almost-smile pulling at his lips, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears.
Balancing the mugs and plate on a tray, I make my way over to their table. Isla’s eyes dance with delight as I set everything down, her small hands already reaching out.
“Careful, this is hot,” I caution, sliding the mug of hot chocolate closer to her. She nods, blowing on it with exaggerated puffs, her brows knit in concentration.
Aidan’s fingers graze mine as he takes his coffee, and lightning strikes straight through my veins. His eyes catch mine, and for a single, suspended heartbeat, everything else disappears—the café, the noise, even time itself.
I jerk my hand back, cheeks burning. I force my eyes elsewhere, but it’s useless. My heart is already tripping over itself, and the ghost of his touch lingers on my skin.
I clear my throat, my voice coming out a little more strained than I intend. “Apologies in advance for the sugar rush she’s about to get, Dad,” I joke, hoping the teasing tone will mask how flustered I feel.
His expression shifts. Firm and unreadable, like always. He’s not much for extras, I’ve noticed. No wasted words or unnecessary reactions. Just the bare minimum.
When he shrugs, it’s not dismissive. Just enough to tell me he’s heard me. “That’s all right. I think she’s earned it.” His voice softens a fraction, smoothness pushing in around the rough edges.
I steal another glance at him, brief enough that I think maybe he won’t notice. But he’s already looking at me.
Our eyes meet again, and for a heartbeat, that usual wall around him seems thinner. There’s something else there…suspicion? I’m not sure, but I find myself wanting to know exactly what it is.
“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy,” I say, taking a step back instead. “Just holler if you need anything.”
I’ve only just turned when Isla’s voice rings out. “Miss Lucy, wait!”
I glance over my shoulder and see bright eyes and cheeks smudged with icing.
“Do you want to hear about the fairy I saw in the garden yesterday?” Isla asks, bouncing in her seat as if the story might just burst out of her if she holds it in too long.
“Oh, Isla,” Aidan starts. “I’m sure Miss Lucy is busy—”
“Not at all,” I interrupt. “I’d love to hear about it. Was it a big fairy or a tiny one?”
Isla beams. “Tiny! Smaller than my pinky.” She holds up her little finger. “It had sparkly wings and a shiny dress, and it flew right past the trees.”
I crouch beside their table. “That sounds so magical. Did the fairy say anything to you?”
Her eyes go wide. “No,” she whispers, “but I think it winked at me.” She leans in, glancing at her dad. “Daddy says he’s not sure fairies come out in the winter, but I know what I saw.”
I sneak a glance at Aidan, expecting another patient sigh or maybe the ghost of a smirk. But he’s just watching inquisitively.
I lean in a little closer, dropping my own voice to a whisper. “Well,” I say, giving Isla a knowing look, “I think sometimes daddies don’t always see the magic right in front of them. Us girls, though? We’re special.”
I wink, and Isla dissolves into giggles before she takes a careful sip of her hot chocolate. “We are special, aren’t we?”
I smile, straightening up and smoothing my hand over my apron. “Definitely. Now, you finish your treats and keep an eye out. If that fairy comes back, I expect a full report.”
As I turn back to the counter, I can’t help but catch Aidan’s gaze one more time. He offers me a slight nod, the barest hint of an actual smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Is he always so composed and carefully in control? What’s made him hold the world at arm’s length?
I wonder what he’d look like if he really smiled. Maybe it’s selfish, but I ache to see it. Just once, so I can stop wondering if he’s ever truly happy.
I go back to my work, pushing thoughts of Aidan out of my mind. The café is bustling, and there’s plenty to keep me occupied. I lose myself in the familiar rhythm of brewing coffee, plating pastries, and chatting with regulars.
By the time the morning rush slows, I glance up just in time to see Aidan gathering their things. Isla’s on the move, hopping down from her chair with that boundless energy only kids seem to have.
“Miss Lucy,” she calls out. “The cimma…cimman…cinnamon bun was the best ever!”
I laugh, leaning on the counter. “I’m so glad you liked it.”
She beams up at me. “It was so yummy! I’m gonna ask Daddy for another one next time.”
Just then, Aidan appears behind her, his footsteps heavy. He places a gentle hand on Isla’s shoulder, the touch surprisingly tender. “Come on, little storm. We’ve got to get going.”
His gaze lingers on Isla for a moment longer before he looks up at me. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then rubs the back of his neck, a gesture so human and unguarded that it feels almost out of place coming from him.
“Uh, thank you. For entertaining her story.” He pauses. “She’s got quite the imagination.”
The words are simple enough, but there’s a hesitance in his tone, as if he’s not entirely comfortable with this exchange. He shifts again, the muscles in his jaw tightening just slightly, a spark of his usual gruffness hovering beneath the surface.
I offer him a warm smile, hoping to ease the tension between us. “No problem at all. I love seeing the world through a child’s eyes. It’s a breath of fresh air.”
A brief silence hangs in the air, and I can practically see him wrestling with what to say next. His lips part, then close again, like the words he wants to share are caught somewhere between his mind and his mouth. Watching him grapple with that vulnerability is oddly endearing.
Before the silence stretches too long, I speak up, giving him a bit of an out. “Well, I hope I see you two again soon. Next week I’m making my special blueberry scones.”
He glances at Isla, then back to me, and I catch a hint of something softer as it curves his lips. “Might have to stop by for those.”
“We’ll come!” Isla chimes in. “I love blueberry scones.”
For a moment, Aidan’s gaze locks onto mine, and I swear the world around us pauses again. His voice drops, quieter and steadier this time. “Guess we’ll see you then.”
His words land gently but leave my heart fluttering, a warm rush spreading through me. My reply slips out softly. “See you then.”
As they walk away, I catch myself staring, a smile stretching across my face before I can stop it. There’s a delicate hairline crack in that seemingly impenetrable facade of his. I wonder what might be waiting on the other side.