“Goodbye, Cass,” she says, her throat tight. “And good luck. May you get everything you’re looking for, and your paths never cross with someone as aimless and naïve as me, because I wouldn’t wish the pain I’m feeling right now on anyone.”
As she walks away from him – from what he meant to her – she ignores his voice, his pleas. His desperation and regret. She ignores it all, and lets the battered pieces of herself fall to the ground – like timeless rubbles of a once-glorious empire raining down on an inevitable fate.
1. Nia
Present
11 years later
The heady, thick aroma of coffee wafts through my café’s kitchen and out into the main area. It hits my eager senses, and I sigh as I ring a customer, hand them their order, then wave them goodbye.
After Mom and Dad decided to retire three years ago, they handed overCafé Connell’sreigns to me and my elder brother, Noah. The café has not only been a part of our lives – part of our family and legacy – from the very beginning, but it has also been a place where I’ve always found the most peace and contentment.
Handling a business, especially one as busy as ours, comes with a lot of challenges. The initial pressure and confusion, along with the fear of disappointing the trusted customers,andof letting our parents down – it all weighed heavily on Noah and I during our first year asCafé Connell’sowners. But, where he became the brains behind things, I quickly turned into the source of engagement and presentation. I’ve never doubted our partnership, but to see it come to life every day at the shop – it’s a dose of thrill I’ll always crave more of.
Adenbrooke isn’t necessarily a crowded town. With a population of approximately 27,869, it might as well be a giant family living in a massive bubble or something. But despite all that, the café is always bustling with activity, either from new sit-in customers, or the screaming kids who come barging in with their parents, demanding pastries and chocolates. From workers on a rush, desperate for a cup of lifesaving coffee, or the nosyelderlies who want nothing to do with the things in the shop and everything to do with two-bit ‘round-town gossip. It really is a joy to witness every flavor Adenbrooke has to offer, as eccentric as they may be.
I bring my long, dark-blonde hair over a shoulder, fix the sleeves of my pink turtleneck sweater, and turn around, only to find Noah seated in a chair behind the main counter, with a pile of papers in his hand and a frown on his face.
“Hey there, big guy.” I smile as I walk over to him. “What’s got you so focused this early in the morning?” I tap a long nail against a sheet of paper, then point at a drawer next to him.
He grabs my purple apron from said drawer before handing it to me, then looks up when I come to stand next to him. “My specialty: financial bullshit.” He grins, making me chuckle.
I put on the apron while glancing at his lazily styled short hair – the color of it a replica of mine – and his clear blue eyes. “And how are we looking?” I ask, then straighten the collar of his black flannel.
His expression softens. “We’re thriving, Nia; you don’t have anything to worry about.”
I exhale sharply. “I know. But it’s just that–”
“You’re scared of letting people down, I get it.” He gets to his feet, and I have to look up to meet his sincere gaze. “We arekillingit, and I’m not just saying that because we’re badasses, but because it’strue. We’re working really hard and it’s showing here.” He jerks his head at the papers. “I’m so proud of what we’ve achieved together so far.”
My shoulders slump a little as I relax into myself, and he chuckles.
“What?”
“You keep telling me thatIworry too much, but really, it’s the other way round.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, at leastoneof us has to be the responsible one, right?”
“Hey, now. I’m older than you, remember?” He ruffles my hair, to which I step away from him with a scowl. “Sevenyears older. Treat me with some respect.” He winks – ortriesto, at least. He’s never been able to do it right, and I doubt he ever will be.
“I’ll show you respect the day you learn how to throw a proper wink,” I muse.
He hums in mock contemplation. “Tough bargain, but I accept. Also, you gotta–” He stops and looks over my shoulders when bells jingle, and the café’s door opens with a bang.
Customers gasp at the sudden noise, and when I pivot on my feet, I see a man with a lanky frame, shabby black hair, and dark eyes panting miserably as he makes his way to the counter. He’s wearing a grey sweater and an oversized winter coat, and keeps apologizing to people as he goes. By the time he reaches Noah and I, he’s even more out of breath than he was before.
“Hi, my name’s Randall,” he begins, then lets go of a sigh and rubs his gloved hands together before giving us a goofy smile. “Umm, I need 36 cups of coffee – black. Uh…” He briefly looks at the piece of paper he’s holding. “Yeah, 36 cups. 2 sugars in 12 cups, no sugar in 2 cups, and 1 sugar in the rest.”
I stare at him for a beat or two, then glance at my brother, whose face shows nothing but open amusement at our intriguing customer.
“Sure thing,” I say, then grab Noah by the bicep before hauling him over to the coffee machines. “I’m not filling 36 cups myself. Get your ass into gear; put those muscles to use and all that shit.”
He laughs airily. “You got it,boss.”
My lips twitch.
“Who the hell needs 36 fucking cups of coffee on a Saturday morning anyway?” he asks incredulously, low enough so that Randall can’t hear him.
