Thomas parks in the lot a few blocks from the shopping district and settles back in the driver’s seat once I step out. He knows I’ll be a while. He doesn’t ask questions or hover. Which is perfect because I need to see Sebastian today.
He’s in a meeting right now, so I have time to spare.
I wander down the street, browsing without urgency. A bookstore. A clothing boutique. I aimlessly wander, killing time, until I get closer to my favorite café, the smell of espresso drawing me inside.
The bell chimes softly overhead when I open the door and step inside. It’s warm, noisy, yet comfortable.
I head to the counter, order a coffee and a pastry, then turn—and collide with a solid wall of human flesh.
“Oh—!” I gasp as my coffee spills onto the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” the man says at the same time.
I look up. He’s tall, with broad shoulders. He smells like soap and coffee grounds—clean in a way that feels deliberate. He’s holding a rag in one hand, indicating he just finished cleaning a table when I ran into him.
Our eyes meet. His warm brown eyes show curiosity, not judgment.
“That was my fault,” he adds quickly, stepping back like he’s worried about crowding me. “I should’ve been paying attention.” He looks genuinely mortified, like bumping into me might haunt him later.
“I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I say, smiling. “So we can share the blame.”
“Thank you,” he says solemnly. “That feels fair. And emotionally mature.”
There’s something disarming about him.
Sebastian would have already apologized once and moved on.
This guy looks like he’s still replaying the moment in his head to make sure I’m okay.
“I’m Aaron,” he says. Gesturing vaguely at the café, he adds, “I, uh—work here. Clearly.”
“Ivy,” I reply. “Nice to meet you.”
He glances at the pastry bag in my hand. “You got the almond croissant.”
“I did.”
“Good choice,” he says, nodding approvingly. “They sell out fast.”
“I know. I’m prepared to do battle for one every time Icome here,” I joke. Smiling, I add, “I like living dangerously.”
He snorts before he can stop himself, then looks briefly betrayed by his own reaction. “Well,” he says, stepping aside. “Let me finish cleaning up, and I’ll make sure you’ve got a seat.”
I hesitate. No one ever offers me that without an angle.
But Aaron just… waits.
“Thank you,” I say finally.
I move to a nearby table, and he comes over to wipe it down. I thank him before setting my coffee and croissant on it.
Once he’s finished, I slide into the seat.
“Enjoy your croissant and beverage.” He grins and walks away.
I pull out my phone and scroll through social media while eating. I look immersed, but I’m not.
Aaron’s eyes keep flicking to me as he cleans the tables and floors nearby, like he’s checking to make sure I don’t vanish.
