"Silva, I have to ask a question and I know you're going to think I'm being cheeky, but it is coming from a place of absolute sincerity."
Silva raised her eyebrows over her steaming cup, unable to anticipate what he was even going to say to her. She'd ordered her favorite Lavender London Fog, and the fragrant steam curled around her nose.
It felt like forever and a day since she had indulged in the Black Sheep Beanery. Once, she considered, she had made a daily stop.And now you don't even miss it. Just think of all the money you've been saving making coffee and tea at home. TheEarl Grey latte felt more indulgent now that she hadn't had it in a while.You won’t need to come here every single day together. Maybe just on the weekends. That way, it still feels like a treat.Besides, Tate's Irish gold tea wasn't on the menu, and she didn't see him abruptly making the switch to coffee just for her.
"Go on," she encouraged him, sipping her drink.
Tate leaned forward, glancing around surreptitiously. Silva mirrored his pose, assuming he was about to ask her something salacious.
"Does anyone in this bleedin' town have a job? Or do you all receive some sort of dispensation from the Council? A caffeine allowance that you're not allowed to spend anywhere else?"
Silva almost choked. "You are ridiculous!" she laughed, balling up her napkin and flinging it across the small table at him.
"I'm deadly serious. Does anyone actually go to work? Or do you all just sit around on your duffs drinking coffee in this cafe? I understand they have to alternate who's allowed to sit down for the system to work, so is it a queue you have to rejoin? Are you given a number at the front and they alert you when you can come back? It doesn't seem sustainable for a town, but you lot seem to be doing all right."
The drive in had been relatively uneventful. Tate had repeated, once they were standing before his car, that he had no idea in which direction they were even going. She laughed, chiding him for being silly, wrinkling her nose when she realized he was completely serious.
"You know how to get to Bridgeton? You know, that city you used to live in? The city you worked in? The city that's literally on the other side of Cambric Creek, because it is smack dab in the middle of Bridgeton and Greenbridge Glen? Yeah, you do? Well, drive to Bridgeton."
Tate had laughed, sliding behind the wheel, clicking his tongue as she fastened her seatbelt. "I don't know if I entirely appreciate that tone."
It had been perfect, like a scene plucked directly from her daydreams. Cruising up the rural highway, his hand on her knee, heading back to the town they might hopefully call home together in the near future. That was, at least, until Tate had abruptly turned the wheel, directing his car down some country backroad near the border of Greenbridge Glen.
"What are you doing?!"
He turned to her with a look of genuine incredulity. "Silva, you told me to drive to Bridgeton. This is the way to Bridgeton."
"Oh my goodness, it isnot! Stop before you go any further!"
He had been laughing as he pulled off the side of the road, bringing her eye-to-eye with a group of disinterested cows, standing near the fence of the farm they were driving past.
"Dove, doyouwant to drive? Because I already told you, I have no idea where I'm going."
It had taken her a few minutes to familiarize herself behind the wheel of his car, shrieking as she pulled onto the road, not realizing it was a manual transmission.
"Just put the bleedin' thing in auto shift before you leave my whole engine block with these ruddy cows," he'd half yelped at her, shifting the gear himself as the car jerked and lurched.
She'd still been giggling after she got them turned around, speeding back up the road towards home. She pointed out Talontail Winery's hundreds of acres of grape vineyard and the giant barn they had recently converted into a party center, remembering belatedly that she'd never RSVPed to a wedding being held there later that month. As they passed Talontail's original building, Tate's hand had curled around the center console, sucking a breath through his teeth. Silva rolled her eyes.
"Oh for pity’s sake, your transmission isfine, you big grump."
He said nothing, and she had continued on with no further incident, waiting for him primly at the steps of her building as he pulled his bag from the boot of the car.
It wasn't until they were standing in line at the Black Sheep Beanery that Silva remembered their appearances. The hapless cashier, a young amphibious woman with smooth blue-green skin, looked from Silva to Tate with her mouth hanging open a bit, and Silva had been unable to fathom why.
"We went to a piercing party," Tate said above her head, in the most earnest voice she suspected he could muster, reminding her of their bloodied mouths and that they were likely still an absolute wreck. ". . . Obviously not a very good one."
Silva sucked in a breath as the young woman laughed awkwardly, seeming relieved to have a reason she could ascribe to the fact that both of her patrons had puffy, bloodied lips, even if the reason itself was a bit absurd.
"You look like a battered woman," he hissed into her hair as she collapsed against his chest, unable to control her giggles once they had placed their order and moved to the end of the busy counter. "I probably look like I've had my arse kicked sideways. It was a terrible idea to leave the house."
"I'll remind you that it wasyouridea to get coffee," she wheezed, laughing so hard that she was unable to stay upright. "It's going to get a lot worse in a few minutes. I really have to go to the bathroom and I'm probably going to start screaming."
She envied his ability to completely swallow his laughter until it was silent, his chest heaving. Silva pressed herself against his front, happier than she could ever remember being, despite the tangible anxiety still hanging over them, that swinging pendulum never slowing.
"I'm going to go now, okay? I'll grab us a table on the way back, that is, if no one calls the police."
“Make for the back alley if you hear sirens, dove.”
