Page 77 of Where Roads Lead

I didn’t put the overhead light on, finding the dim light suitable enough for my task.

“Here.” I slid a chair off the table she’d sat at that morning and set it right side up. “Sit here while I make your drink.”

“I feel like I should help somehow.” She frowned.

“How are you supposed to help make coffee?”

“I don’t know,” she made a face. “But I’m putting you out. I should at least be standing uncomfortably while you work.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sit down, Elsie.”

She shrugged. “If you insist.”

I slid behind the counter and switched the espresso machine on, watching out of the corner of my eye as she pulled her laptop from her satchel and set it up on the table in front of her.

The espresso machine whirred to life, and against the quietness of the café, only that and the sound of her fingers clicking against the keys were audible.

It was nice. Peaceful. I felt like I could breathe.

The truth was, as much as I’d wanted to be home tonight, this detour in routine wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

It was nice having a night that didn’t look like every other one for the last five years.

Elsie was definitely a wrench thrown into an otherwise well-oiled machine, but she was one that made me examine whether the system even worked as well as I thought.

I took longer than necessary making her coffee, using it as an opportunity to watch her unnoticed. At least for a minute.

As frustrating as it was that she had zero awareness of her surroundings, it was also kind of impressive how thoroughly she could lock in and shut the rest of the world out.

Where Elsie could disappear into her own mind, I was annoyingly and constantly aware of everything occurring around me at any given moment.

So, to observe her escaping it all? It was almost a relief for my brain, too.

After a few minutes, I figured she’d be just as oblivious to me approaching her as she was to me watching her from across the room, so I slid into the seat across from her.

To my surprise (and relief), she glanced up at me, but only for a second.

“Shhh,” she rushed to say before I even opened my mouth. “I’ll lose my train of thought if you say anything.”

I held a hand up in defense, holding the coffee toward her in silent offering.

“Thank you,” she said sheepishly, taking a sip. “I promise I’m almost done. Wow, this is good.”

“Take your time,” I told her, meaning it. “I’m in no rush.”

“You’re an angel,” she said gratefully, green eyes glued back to her screen.

Just so I didn’t feel like so much of a freak just watching her work, I tried to busy myself with getting things ready for the morning. There wasn’t much to do, but I didn’t like to be idle.

I filled the sugar bowls on each table, I reviewed the order form for the week—which, true to Ava’s word, was ready to go, I wiped down the counter, and refilled napkin holders, and when I finally sat back down, Elsie slammed her laptop shut with a breath of relief.

“Another chapter done!”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “I guess that coffee worked, then.”

“Trust me, that writing sprint was fueled solely by this magic bean juice you crafted so wonderfully.”

“That has to be the most unappetizing way I’ve ever heard coffee described in my life.”