Kelsey’s stomach sank, just a little.Of course.She was used to it. Elizabeth was a woman who moved through the world as if it were a series of items to check off a list, and Kelsey was just another stop along the way.
But then Elizabeth hesitated.
Kelsey watched as Elizabeth’s shoulders tensed, just slightly, before she turned back toward the seating area. Not toward the door.
Kelsey’s pulse kicked up, her fingers tightening around the rag she was holding. Elizabeth never stayed. She grabbed her coffee and left, every single time. But today, she was walking toward the window, setting her bag down on the table before sitting.
Kelsey told herself to look away. To stop staring. Toact normal.
She failed.
Her eyes kept flicking over, tracking Elizabeth as she pulled out her phone again, this time pressing it to her ear. Her expression was unreadable, her free hand tapping once, twice against the side of her cup before stilling.
Kelsey forced herself to turn back to the counter, to the next customer waiting patiently, but her focus was shot. Her fingers moved on autopilot, her mind still stuck on the way Elizabeth’s blazer pulled just slightly across her shoulders, the way her hair caught the light from the window, the way her lips moved as she spoke into the phone, her voice too low to hear.
Hailey bumped her hip again, this time harder. “Earth to Kelsey.”
Kelsey blinked, shaking her head slightly. “What?”
Hailey’s eyes flicked toward Elizabeth, then back to Kelsey, her smirk knowing. “You’resucha goner.”
Kelsey didn’t deny it. She didn’t have to. They both knew.
And anyway, it wasn’t like it mattered. Elizabeth was a woman who lived in a different world, one of high-stakes cases and power lunches and whatever else it was that filled her days. Kelsey was just the barista who made her coffee.
But god, she wished she wasn’t.
She really wished she wasn’t. The thought was a familiar, dull ache, one she usually pushed away with the next order, the next joke with Hailey, the next task that needed doing. But today, with Elizabeth sitting there, a solid, tangible presence in Kelsey’s space, it was impossible to ignore that wish.
It was funny, really. Five months of Elizabeth walking through that door like clockwork and yet Kelsey knew next to nothing about her.
She knew her name was Elizabeth from busy mornings when she had to give her name with her order, and Kelsey knew that order by heart. She’d pieced together from half-overheard phone calls that Elizabeth was a lawyer, probably high-powered given the sharpness of her tone when discussing cases. But beyond that? Nothing.
Kelsey didn’t know if Elizabeth was married or divorced or single. She didn’t know if she had kids tucked away in some Upper West Side apartment or if she preferred cats to dogs or if she ever let herself sleep in on weekends. She didn’t know if Elizabeth loved her job or just tolerated it, if she followed baseball or football, or if she preferred wine or beer.
All Kelsey knew was that Elizabeth was the most breathtaking woman she’d ever seen. The kind of woman whomade the air feel thinner just by existing in the same room. And that was dangerous, because wanting someone that far out of reach was a special kind of torture.
But here she was anyway. Tortured. Every damn morning.
Hailey tapped her on the arm. “Break time. Try not to spontaneously combust while I’m gone.” She winked and disappeared into the back before Kelsey could form a reply.
The lull settled in. No line, just a few lingering customers lost in laptops or books. Kelsey grabbed a damp rag and moved from behind the counter. Wiping down tables gave her something to do with her hands. She started with the table furthest from Elizabeth, her movements methodical. Spray, wipe, stack the abandoned sugar packets. Her pulse thudded against her ribs, quiet but insistent, and she could map every shift Elizabeth made—the crisp rustle of fabric as she adjusted her blazer, the faint tap of her fingers against the table, the quiet inhale before she spoke again. Kelsey’s skin prickled with the awareness of her, as if her entire body had tuned itself to that single frequency.
She moved to the next table. Closer now. Just two empty tables between them. She could hear the low murmur of Elizabeth’s voice, a smooth, private melody against the café’s hum. Kelsey kept her back to her, focusing on a sticky patch of dried coffee on the tabletop.
“Paula, stop laughing. This isn’t remotely funny.”
Kelsey’s rag stilled. The words were clipped, tight with a strain she had never heard in Elizabeth’s voice before. Kelsey scrubbed at the coffee stain, her ears burning. She should not be listening. She should walk away.
She stayed. She wiped.
A pause. Then, quieter, laced with something that sounded like horrified self-assessment, “I lied to my ex-wife’s face about seeing someone.”
Kelsey’s world lurched sideways, the coffee-stained rag clenched in her fist suddenly forgotten.Ex-wife.The word ricocheted through her head. Elizabeth was divorced. She’d been married to a woman. And now she wasn’t. A thousand unspoken questions burned along Kelsey’s tongue, her fingers pressing harder into the damp fabric until her knuckles ached.
Elizabeth’s next words sliced through her spiral, tense and raw with barely contained panic. “No I wasn’t drunk. I wish I was.” The normally measured cadence of her voice frayed at the edges. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I need to bring someone with me to this fucking wedding.”
The ceramic cup Kelsey was holding slipped half an inch in her suddenly slick palms. A wedding.
