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His smirk breaks free and he hands me back my AirPod, then holds up the Zara bag. “I was re-buying one of my favorite jackets because the original is at Charlotte’s place, so I’ll likely never get it back,” he explains, “and a friend of yours served me at the register. Madison Pullman.”
“How do you know Maddie’s full name?” I ask, then mentally face-palm myself as I realize the answer. “Oh. You checked her ID that night of the noise complaint. Okay, whatever. So what? She sent you here?”
“I asked how things were with you.”
“Yeah?”
“And she told me to come here and ask you myself.” He presses his hands to the top of the empty chair next to me and leans forward as he quietens his voice. “So? How are things with you?”
My pulse picks up and I am unbearably aware of it thumping beneath every inch of my skin. It’s so hard to look him directly in the eye after what happened the last time we were together. I know how his body feels against mine, his hot breath against my ear. How do I look at this stranger knowing exactly how he groans in bed?
“I’m .?.?.”
“Do you mind if I sit with you for a while? Or are you busy?” He gestures to the laptop, but what he doesn’t know is that I’m grateful for the interruption. Then he points to my empty cups. “And can I grab you another coffee? What are you drinking?”
I’m already rattling with caffeine as it is, but one more wouldn’t hurt. It keeps me functioning when all I want to do every day is sleep away the hurt. “I’d take another, if you don’t mind. An iced white mocha with caramel drizzle and vanilla sweet cream cold foam.”
Weston narrows his gaze inquisitively, and I go on the defensive.
“I know, I know .?.?. A total sugar bomb, but I have yet to get a single cavity.”
“No, it’s not that.” He pauses for a beat as his eyes lower to the floor, and when he looks back up again, there’s a hint of longing behind them. “That’s Charlotte’s drink too.”
“Oh.” I chew on my lip. I didn’t mean to remind him of her. “Sorry.”
He waves away my apology and rearranges his mouth into a smile. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Weston leaves his shopping bag under the table and grabs my empty cups to discard them on his way up to the register. As he waits in line, I watch his every movement. He tilts his head back to scan the menu boards, stands with his hands in his pockets, and talks kindly with the barista as he places our order. He lingers by the bottom of the bar and transfers that same smile across the room to me as our drinks are made. He’s a cop, his arm is covered in tattoos, and yet there’s something sweet and vulnerable about him. Maybe that’s just because I know he’s going through a hard time right now. Maybe if I didn’t have that knowledge, I wouldn’t see beyond the hardened exterior.
“One sugar bomb,” Weston says as he sets my drink down in front of me. He settles into the chair next to me with his own coffee, a hot one that I imagine is basic, like straight-up filter coffee and creamer. “So, how are things?” he asks again.
“Still weird,” I answer. “My head is .?.?. a mess. You?”
“Still weird. My head is a mess,” he copies, and I roll my eyes at him as I take a sip of my coffee to fill the silence. He points to my laptop. “Wild guess: are you working on content right now?”
My screen has faded to black due to inactivity, so I brush my thumb over the touchpad to bring it back to life. I turn the laptop toward Weston and reveal the video I’ve been editing. “You caught me. I’m a fraud, I know.”
“How long do you think you can keep it up? Pretending you’re still with him?”
“Not very long at all,” I answer, closing the laptop screen. I push it away and sink back into my chair. My head constantly spins with all of the questions I don’t have answers for, all of the what-ifs. I wish I could shut it all off. “There’s not enough old footage to last for more than a month or two, so I guess I’ll have to delete all of our accounts soon, once we come clean.”
“And then what? You have to get a real job?”
I glare at him. If only he knew how hard I worked as a teenager to learn how to edit. “Content creationisa real job.”
“Okay then, another job.”
“We’re both taking a gap year before we start our careers. It’s always been the plan, and even if the income dries up, we were smart. We have savings. Investments. We were supposed to go traveling over the winter, but I guess that plan is out.”
Weston cocks his head to one side, listening intently as though he actually cares about the sad state of affairs my life has become. “Why can’t you still go?”
“I’m not traveling to the other side of the world on my own, Weston,” I state, crossing my arms. Me? Traveling alone? I can’t even sleep in my own goddamn apartment by myself!
“Lots of people solo travel,” he says.
“Not me. Did you forget the part where I’ve never been independent? Like, ever? I’ve always had my parents or Luca around me. This is the first time I’ve ever been alone, and if you think I’m capable of traveling all by myself just three months from now, then .?.?.”
“Then what?” he challenges with a smirk. “Then I’m being way too optimistic that you’ll learn how to be selfish within the next three months? Fine. Call me optimistic, because I’m going to teach you how to be selfish. Just like you asked.”
