I stare at my phone in the middle of the Atlanta coffee shop, shell-shocked, listening to the voicemail left by Evan and… Bennett? It’s clear Leo’s holding the phone, as he talks over the guys who sound further away, occasionally babbling about a ladybug or butterfly. Still, for the most part, I can hear exactly what Evan and Bennett are talking about.
Me.
I miss her.
She makes me feel like a better father.
I want her as more than a nanny.
There’s a ringing in my ears, like my brain has short-circuited, trying to process the words being said. I’ve listened to the voicemail three times already, and it still remains the same.
It’s a jab to the gut. My chest feels tight, like it’s extremely full. And I wonder if it’s the size of my heart that’s weighing me down, now carrying far too many feelings. Too many emotions.
I reach forward to take a sip of my matcha in order to calm myself, stopping myself from clicking on his number and calling him for the time being.
What would I say? The neurons connecting my brain to my mouth have seized up.
A confident tap on my shoulder startles me, and I turn to see a man with dark, shoulder-length hair grinning at me, dressed in a tweed brown suit with a green and fluorescent pink tie—an ugly tie I recognise.
“Matthew?” I question in shock.
“Flo, what a pleasant surprise.” He takes a seat opposite me at the table. “Lovely weather here, isn’t it?”
I’m not stupid enough to think that this is a coincidence. Like, really? What are the chances that out of all the states, all the cities, and all the coffee shops, Matthew and I would just so happen to walk into the same one?
“What do you want, Matthew?”
He whistles. “Ooh, seems someone’s still a little bitter over the whole promotion thing.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“Who said I came here to find you?”
I deadpan him.
“Okay, sure, you got me. I came here to find you.”
What a fucking creep. “How did you know where I was?” I haven’t posted it on any of my social media platforms. I don’t use them much, except to showcase my recent creations. “And what was so important that you needed to literally stalk me?”
“Stalk you? Come on, that’s a bit of a stretch, Flo.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
Matthew hums. “Well, I think you do. Six months, in fact. Having a good trip?”
His nose is looking pretty fucking breakable right now.
“Okay, look, I have my ways. My ways being Ella Baxter. She said she bumped into you in some kind of play park? Very interesting.” He quirks a brow, waiting for my response, but when he doesn’t get one, he says, “Anyway, it took me a few minutes to find the trip plan online for the company you’re using, and you’re friends—” He points in the direction of the botanical gardens—”posted about where they were thirty minutes ago. Since you weren’t with them, I knew you would be nearby. We all know how Flo can’t go without her matcha, right?”
“I have a phone, you know? You could have called me.”
“And would you have answered?”
“Nope.” I pop the ‘P’ and sip at my matcha.
“So, what did you do over the summer, then, Flo?”
I let my blank look answer for me.
