DoubleTree Cookies
Zay arrivedat the café first. He sat low in the corner, tucked near a wall that faced the door with a clear view of the entrance. Dressed in dark joggers, a hoodie, and a fitted cap pulled low over his forehead, he kept his head down but stayed alert. A couple of glances came his way from nearby tables, but it was early. Atlanta hadn’t fully stretched itself awake yet. He had some room to breathe.
The bells over the café door jingled. He looked up, and there she was.
She walked in with that same quiet confidence that always made people stop and pay attention, even if they didn’t knowwhy. She didn’t have to try hard; she never had to. Her energy radiated from inside of her with every step. She was fire and honey, commanding yet soft, warm yet untouchable.
She wore a camel-colored trench coat draped open over a black turtleneck dress that hugged her just right. Gold hoops framed her face. Her straight hair fell over her shoulders. She didn’t wear any makeup but gloss and a little something on her lashes. She was natural and glowing.
Zay blinked, taken off guard by how much she still looked like the girl he remembered but . . . more. More grown, more elevated. Still her, but . . . more.
She spotted him eyeing her from the corner. They met each other’s gaze, and he quickly turned away, spinning the ring on his finger. Suddenly, Love felt nervous. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she walked through the café to the table.
Anxiety shifted in his chest as she slid into the seat across from him and set her phone face down on the table.
“Hey,” she said, voice light but cautious.
“Hey.”
The waitress approached instantly, smiling extra hard when she realized who Zay was. “Can I get y’all anything?”
“I’ll take a buttered croissant,” Princess said, pulling her arm out of her coat sleeve, “and a vanilla chai tea. Oat milk.”
“I’ll have a water for now. A bottled one, love.” He winked and smiled at the waitress. She blushed, then turned and giggled away.
Princess shook her head and smiled. “I almost forgot how player you always tried to be.”
Zay chuckled. “I almost forgot how much you eat bread. You love a buttered croissant.”
She raised a brow, amused. “Oh, you remember that?”
“Yeah. You used to tear those up. Remember that one morning I stole one from you? You were getting ready for school,turned your back, and I snatched it right off your plate. Your parents had already left, but you were running late and begged me to walk with you anyway.”
She blinked, surprised. Then, the memory hit her fast. Like a song she hadn’t heard in years.
“Dang, . . . you remember all that?”
“Of course,” he said, his voice low, eyes on her. “To this day, I can’t eat one without thinking of that morning. You were mad as hell at me! And mad that you had to walk. Talking about ‘my socks wet as hell and I’m out here with this busted umbrella.’” He grinned. “Still cute though.”
She laughed under her breath.
“You loved them sweets too. Remember those DoubleTree cookies?” he added. “Don’t even get me started.”
“Oh my God!” Love laughed, covering her mouth with her hands. “Marcellus did valet there, right? Y’all used to sneak them cookies. You would bring me one almost every night!”
“I can only stay at the DoubleTree now. When I walk in, I expect that warm-ass cookie every time.”
“That is a mess!” She shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. The memories wrapped around her like a scarf, soft and comforting, a little too familiar. For a moment, she forgot to keep her guard up.
The waitress returned, setting the croissant and tea in front of her, then sliding Zay a bottled water. He reached over, stole half of her croissant before she could react.
“Hey!” She gasped.
“Split game,” he said through a bite. “Tradition.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re still annoying.”
“Ain’t never gon’ change, baby. I read something about you inEssence,” he said. “You talked about how storytelling helped you work through grief. That real?”
