“Aunt Brier, please. I can’t rely on a man’s money for everything—look where that got my mother? I need to figure out my life on my own. Besides, I’m sure Archer is not interested in me.” I rolled my eyes. “I’d only remind him of Brianne and everything she did to him.”
Archer: Would you like to meet for coffee sometime?
“Oh my God. He wants to meet for coffee.” My face went pale.
Before I could think, Brier dropped her crochet on Goldie’s head and snatched the phone out of my hands. She typed “yes” and hit send.
“What have you done? Have you lost your mind?” I yanked my phone back.
“Meet him. See if there’s a spark.” She was incorrigible.
“Excuse me? Wasn’t that exactly what I told you last week when Westley mentioned coming to the city soon, wanting to meet you at last?”
“That’s different.” She huffed and picked up her needle again.
“No, it’s the same. You’re scared to meet him in person, but I know you want to. What are you afraid of?”
“I like his friendship. Meeting might ruin it.”
“Or it might turn into something even better.”
“Same to you and Archer.”
We glared at each other, my mind spinning around things, until I finally smirked. “Tell you what, Aunt Brier. I’ll meet Archer—if you agree to meet Westley when he’s here.”
I knew she lived for his phone calls, but she kept denying it. As a long-time widow—I can hardly recall Uncle Tristan—fear kept her from moving things further with Westley, I was sure of it.
Here we sat, with Goldie our only companion. Two lonely women, both scared to take the next step. Maybe it was time we pushed each other toward something better.
Archer: How about tomorrow?
I took it only as a polite obligation. To think this was anything more would break me if I misread it.
I turned the screen so she could see his invitation. “Well, do we have a deal? I won’t agree to meet him unless you take out your phone and text Westley right now.”
Reluctantly, she sighed and pulled the phone out from underneath Goldie’s torso. “I’m only doing this so you’ll have your chance to meet Archer.”
“Right back at you.” I blew her a kiss and texted Archer a time to meet. I hit send, telling myself it was just coffee, but my pulse sprinted ahead, anyway.
HEART AND HEARTH
Penny
The Heartand Hearth coffee shop near the library embodied many things I loved, with exposed brick walls, mismatched chairs, and ornate salvaged iron pieces on the walls. Above a long wooden counter, a chalkboard menu listed a fall lineup of coffee flavors I couldn’t wait to try.
I arrived early and ordered a Pumpkin Honey Spice Latte from a barista with a nose ring. He created elaborate latte art of entwined hearts, taking the design of romantic foam sculpture very seriously.
I claimed a table by the window near the glowing fireplace. A stack of old books and plants rested on the mantel. Most of the small tables were filled with pairs of people. Soon Archer and I would be one of them. Oof, the butterflies in my stomach worked nonstop at the thought of seeing him again.
I opened an ebook on my phone, held it with one hand and let the other wrap around my mug. My knee wouldn’t stop bouncing, and I barely read a word, too nervous to think, above the subtle hum of conversation and clinking mugs around me.
With each chime of the door, I peeked up, expecting to see Archer. He was only five minutes late. I’d give him ten more.
Who was I kidding? This was the most exciting thing to happen to me all year. I’d wait all day if necessary.
Not pathetic. Just hopeful.
Why did this matter so much? It wasn’t even a date. Just a friendly visit over a beverage.
