Two weeks to conjure a solution out of thin air, to turn a lie into something plausible, something that wouldn’t make her look like the pathetic, bitter ex she’d spent two years pretending she wasn’t.
2
The morning rush was finally thinning, the line at the counter shrinking from a chaotic snake to a manageable trickle. Kelsey wiped her hands on her apron, the fabric damp with spilled milk and the faint, sweet stickiness of caramel syrup. The café hummed around her. Steam hissed from the espresso machine, mixing with the low murmur of conversations. The occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic filled the space. She liked this part of the shift, when the worst of the chaos had passed, but the place still buzzed with energy.
The door chimed, and her gaze flicked up automatically, her pulse giving that stupid little jump it always did when someone walked in. Not that she waswaitingfor anyone in particular.
A guy in a rumpled suit, his tie already loosened like he’d given up on the day before it even started. Kelsey smiled, already reaching for a to-go cup. “Usual, Dan?”
He grunted something that might’ve been a yes, and she got to work, her movements quick and practiced. The door chimed again. Her eyes darted up before she could stop herself.
Not her.
Hailey sidled up beside her, hip bumping Kelsey’s as she leaned in to grab a clean rag. “You’re hopeless,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for Kelsey to hear over the grind of the espresso machine. “Still holding out hope?”
Kelsey’s cheeks warmed, but she kept her voice steady. “Shut up.”
Hailey smirked, tossing the rag over her shoulder. “She’s not coming today, Kel. It’s almost nine. Face it. Your lawyer’s ghosting you.”
“She’s notmylawyer,” Kelsey muttered, but her stomach still twisted a little at the words. She turned back to the machine, leveling the grounds and pressing the tamper down “And she’s not ghosting me. She’s probably just… busy.”
Kelsey tried to focus on the task at hand, but the heat in her face didn’t fade. Shewasridiculous. She knew that. Five months of this. Five months of watching the door, of memorizing the exact way Elizabeth ordered her coffee (single-shot, extra-dry cappuccino with almond milk, no sugar, like she was afraid of indulging in anything), of noticing the way her blazer always looked like it had been tailored specifically to make the rest of the world feel underdressed. Five months of stealing glances at the way her dark hair always fell just so over her shoulders and the cool gray-blue of her eyes that made Kelsey’s stomach do that stupid little flip every single time.
And for what? Elizabeth had never once given her a second look. Not really. Not inthatway.
The door chimed again.
Kelsey’s fingers stilled on the steam wand. Her breath hitched just for a second before she forced herself to keep moving, to finish frothing the milk. Like her heart wasn’t suddenly pounding just a little too hard.
Elizabeth walked in like she owned the place, which, okay, fair. Shedidlook like she owned places. Today’s blazer was adeep navy, crisp and structured, the kind of fabric that probably cost more than Kelsey’s rent. Her hair was down, those loose waves Kelsey had memorized the shape of, and her expression was its usual mix of focused and slightly distant, like she was already three steps ahead of whatever was happening in front of her.
Kelsey’s mouth went dry.
She turned away before Elizabeth could catch her staring, busying herself with wiping down the counter, her movements quick and precise.Act normal. She’s just a customer. A really, really hot customer who you have absolutely no chance with, but still. Just a customer.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth said as she reached the counter.
The sound of Elizabeth’s voice—low, smooth, just a little rough around the edges, like she hadn’t used it much yet today—sent a shiver down Kelsey’s spine. She turned, forcing a smile that felt too bright, too eager. “Hey. You’re late today.”
Elizabeth’s lips quirked, just slightly. “Keeping tabs on me?”
Kelsey’s face heated, but she didn’t look away. “Uh, well, you’re usually here at eight. That’s all.”
“Observant.” Elizabeth’s gaze flicked to the menu board, then back to Kelsey, even though she always ordered the exact same thing.
“The usual?”
“Please.”
And Kelsey got to work.
Kelsey risked a glance up as she poured the milk, catching the way Elizabeth’s eyes tracked the movement, just for a second, before flicking back to her phone.
Kelsey finished the drink, sliding it across the counter. “Here you go.”
Elizabeth’s fingers brushed hers as she took the cup, just the barest graze of skin against skin, but it was enough to send ajolt through Kelsey’s system. She told herself it was static. Just static.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said as she paid. Her voice was distracted, her attention already half on whatever was happening on her screen. She turned toward the door, like she always did, like she was already mentally halfway out of the café and onto whatever came next in her day.
