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ME: Definitely ass-kicking involved. Preferably the lying, cheating, propagating kind.
ANDIE: I’m in, then.
ME: You sure? We’ll have to pretend to be civil.
ANDIE: No pretending involved. We’re going to show these cowards what happens when you take something mean-spiritedand turn it into good. And we’ll show them what real looks like while we’re doing it.
ANDIE: To be clear, that means we don’t have to pretend to like each other.
ME: I never said I didn’t like you.
ME: I’m in. When do you want to meet?
Chapter 18
ANDIE
The door to my favorite little coffee shop chimes, and I look up expecting to see Sean, but it’s an older woman with a white fluffy dog peeking out of her purse. Annoyed he’s fifteen minutes late, I go back to the word game on my phone.
I need a break from…everything. I just spent the last hour meeting with a label that’s hunting down songs and demos for an up-and-coming artist. I’ve worked with them before, so they know my style and how I work, but of course, the first twenty minutes were focused on my ‘relationship’ with Sean Greyson. I left unsure if they were more interested in my music or trying to see if they could somehow capitalize on me and the man who is close to twenty minutes late and counting.
Ready to call it a day and go home to snuggle my little guy, the door chimes again, and Mr. Popular himself strolls in. He’s wearing gym shorts, a long-sleeved Tigers t-shirt, and a backward ball cap. I’m pretty sure even if I were blind, I'd still know exactly how attractive he is. Physically, he’s beautiful. He’s got that pretty boy face but with a rugged edge. The kind of handsome that’s swoon-worthy even to the most attached. Add to that he’s taller than most women with the sort of defined muscles that tell you his body is a machine and that blond hair that’s barely dark enough to make his light blue eyes pop. But it’shis quiet confidence that’s both alluring and mysterious, and it all annoys the crap out of me.
He stops at the table, setting his keys and phone down. “I’m sorry I’m late. Have you ordered?”
“Nope. I waited for you.”
He surveys the few small tables around us. At first, I took offense to his constant audit of his surroundings, like I was somehow inferior, but I’ve learned my lesson about jumping to conclusions. Given our predicament, I understand his need to ensure our privacy.
I chose this place, knowing it’s quiet in the afternoons. I used to spend time here working before Axel was born. It’s out of the way, low-key, and has a consistent clientele.
A young woman, wearing headphones, is working on her laptop. A couple with a toddler occupies a corner, and the older woman now sits in the window reading a book while her dog naps next to her in the bag.
Sean’s gaze returns to me. “If you tell me what you want, I’ll order it, and then we can get to work.”
I could protest, telling him I’ll get my own, but given I’ve sat here waiting on his privileged muscled behind for twenty minutes, he can pay for my tea.
“A peppermint tea with honey. Please.”
He nods and walks to the counter behind me to order. I pull a notebook and a pen from my bag, hoping we can hammer this out quickly. Nora is watching Axel but has to leave at a certain time, so we need to get to it.
I open my notebook to a blank sheet, but in my periphery, I see the couple from the corner approaching.
“Hi,” the woman says cautiously. She smiles as she reaches down to pick up her son, and her husband joins her. She continues to smile at me nervously.
“Hi.” I rack my brain, trying to figure out if I know her somehow, but I come up short.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but are you...is that…” She tips her head in Sean’s direction, and the lightbulb goes on. I have no freaking clue how to handle this. This is one of the reasons we’re here. We need to figure out what in the hell to do about all of the attention.
“Oh, um.” I frantically search for words while my eyes dart over my shoulder to Sean, willing him to get back over here and help me.
“I’m sorry.” She jumps in. “We watch every game. You sang theNational Anthem,and it was breathtaking. Your story…it just hit so close to home.”
With his hands full, Sean returns to our table and sits, looking between me and the couple.
I peek at him quickly. “Thank you.”
“I’m so sorry about your husband,” she says with genuine sympathy, and I sense understanding in her voice. She gestures to her husband. “He’s getting ready to deploy. It never gets easier.”
