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As soon as I arrive in front of our apartment building, I stop in my tracks.
As much as I dread the thought of having to see Carter again, I don’t have much choice; that ring is still sentimental to me.
So, fuck it.
I’ll just call Carter, get my ring back, and never see him again. It’s not that hard. It’s not like we have any sort of special relationship that would make this complicated.
In fact, I’m probably overthinking it.
Maybe Carter isn’t even thinking about me as much as I am thinking about him.
With this thought, I punch in his number, press call, and nervously listen to the other line ringing.
After five or six rings, Carter answers. “Hello?”
I can hear children laughing and talking in the background. Is he in a park? At some niece or nephew’s birthday party, maybe.
Swallowing the lump in my throat—and my pride, I say, “Carter? It’s—it’s Estelle Gibbs. We met the other night—”
“Estelle!” he interrupts me with his excited tone. “You finally called. I don’t think I got your number the other night.”
Well, that’s because I don’t plan to stay in touch with a guy I slept with once.
I let out an awkward laugh, trying to suppress the memory of me running out of his apartment. “Y-yeah. Well, look. I called about the… ring.”
He sighs. “I figured. Well, how about we meet after my work’s over?”
“If it’s okay with you.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s fine. Will four in the afternoon work?”
I check my wristwatch. It’s only 2:45 p.m. I reply, “Yeah, sure. Where?”
“At…Coffee and Blues,maybe?”
“Oh, sure. I know that place. I’ll… I’ll see you there.”
“See you.”
Then, I end the call.
Although it’s still over an hour before I have to go to Coffee and Blues, I figure it will be better to sit in there and have some iced coffee than stand here on the sidewalk under the hot afternoon sun. So, I hail a cab and make my way there.
Coffee and Bluesis called like that for a reason—jazz music plays in the café through the speakers all day long. To add to the cozy effect, it’s always dim, with blue and yellow lights everywhere.
The furniture is white, with a few indoor plants in the corners.
I order an iced hazelnut latte as I wait for 4:00 p.m to come.
When it finally does, Carter takes my breath away—it’s that or the afternoon glare that just makes his outline glow.
Unlike the first and last time I saw him, he isn’t wearing his casual clothes and pants. This time, he has a crisp white button-down shirt, khaki pants, and white sneakers. Hell, I’m not the only person who turns in his direction as he walks in.
Carter draws almost everyone’s attention.
But his attention is on me the entire time. Up until he gets to my table.
I’m almost flustered that I’m the one he came for.
