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Megan usually saved her account for photos of events that supported her brother’s foundation, but she hadn’t been able to resist posting photos of Sam and Ty’s wedding. “Thanks. I think.”
“Pecan,” a voice said suddenly from behind Sophia as Roman reached for the bakery shelf. “Don’t give her the cherry, Roman. She likes the pecan better.”
Megan’s thoughts screeched from Taos back to the room in front of her. She recognized that voice. For the last five years, the whole world had recognized that voice. Smooth, Italian. Consonants hidden behind his teeth. Pronounced “Roman” with a rolledR.
“Hello, Megan,” the voice said, then, “It’s okay, Sophia,” and Sophia stood to one side so Megan could get a good look at the stranger.
He rose from his shadowy corner and tipped up the baseball cap, letting the hood fall behind him. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, and not in a styled way. The effect was heightened by his stubble. Megan had always seen him clean-shaven.
His piercing gray eyes held hers. No mistaking the man with those eyes.
“Alessandro!” she exclaimed. The anonymity, the quiet early morning store, the hoodie and the ballcap all clicked into place. “Well,” she went on more quietly. “This is a surprise. You guys must be thrilled to see him again.”
Sophia grimaced, Roman rolled his eyes, and Grace said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“What?” How could anyone not be happy to see Alessandro Rosselli, former barista of this corner of Boston, now the hottest actor in Hollywood? Not to mention the most beautiful man Megan had ever seen. Which was beside the point, but she couldn’t help it. He was taller than her, unless she wore her heels, which she almost always did. Even those thick glasses couldn’t hide his silver-gray eyes.
She hadn’t been this close to him in so many years, she wanted to turn away to compose herself. When he’d been her barista, there had been a counter between them, which had been a good thing. His charisma radiated off him, even now when he wasn’t smiling.
With five years of morning small talk, she’d learned about the highs and lows of his auditions and his introductions to the American movie industry. She’d known he’d be discovered one day and whisked away from them to the bright lights of LA. She’d been so very right. Five years ago, she’d walked into the shop and Grace had told her he’d gotten his big break. He was off to Hollywood and would never come back.
Which had beenfine.
“Don’t you ever go on the internet?” Sophia said.
“I was traveling all day yesterday,” she said. “I’ve only been posting photos from the trip. What’s going on?”
“Our sweet little Alessandro,” Grace said, barely containing her obvious relish, “got himself arrested the other day.”
“Sweet?” Alessandro asked the air. “Little?”
“Um,” Megan said. Those were the words he chose to focus on? He was supposed to be living his best life over there on the West Coast. “Arrested?”
Alessandro grimaced but didn’t say anything else, so Grace helped him out. “He and Nicola Kulik partied hard over New Year’s. Got into a leeeetle scuffle with a photographer. Right, ’Sandro?”
“Something like that.”
“And now his manager has told him to lie low until it blows over. So of course he comes to the safest place in the world, with his best pals.”
“Who he’s ignored for five years,” Roman growled even lower than Alessandro had.
“That’s not true,” Sophia said. “Remember all that traffic we got after his first big interview? When he mentioned us?”
Megan remembered that, too. The place had been mobbed for weeks. People’s memories were short, though, and they’d soon gone back to more convenient coffee shops, leaving Oh Beans! to the Waterfront regulars.
“So you’re back in town for a while?” she asked Alessandro.
“For a while, yes,” he said. He’d looked at her throughout this exchange, and now he took off his glasses. Those pewter eyes pinned her in place.
“Well,” she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere and clear her deer-in-headlights feeling. “You might want to take a box of Roman’s coffee to go, because you won’t be able to set foot in here after seven a.m. You remember.”
“I do.”
She didn’t know why this thought made her want to touch her throat. Of course he remembered the crowds. It was just… with the way he was looking at her… and the way he’d told Roman what her favorite Danish was… he seemed to be remembering more than just a bunch of customers.
“So how are you, Megan?” he asked.
“Oh! I’m fine! You know me,” she said like a complete fool through her skipping heartbeat. Now she wanted to reach for the ends of her hair. “Running my brother’s PR takes up all my time right now.”
