It’s almost eight p.m., so visitors are about to get the boot. I rushed to hand a pretty bouquet of irises to a new mom before a nurse shooed me away.
I shut down the shop before I left to come here, so my night is my own.
Scrolling through the food delivery app on my phone, I contemplate my choices.
I could stop and pick something up to save the delivery charge, or I could go super economical and eat whatever I find in my fridge that doesn’t have a layer of mold on it.
My gaze bolts from a picture of a ham sandwich to my messaging app when I hear the chime signaling a new arrival.
I open the app.
Liam: Look up.
My head darts up.
What the hell?
Standing across the lobby from me, dressed in dark jeans and a black Henley shirt is the man I haven’t stopped thinking about since last night.
He closes the distance between us with heavy measured steps.
“Are you alright? Why are you here, Athena?”
I pull a deep breath in, trying to calm my pulse. Why do I feel lightheaded whenever I’m within a foot of him? “I’m fine. I was delivering flowers.”
His face softens. “Good. That’s good.”
“Are you okay?” I question back because he’s the last person I expected to see here on a Saturday night.
Scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he nods. “I’m fine too.”
He doesn’t add anything else, so I take it to mean that he’s here because he’s visiting someone. Maybe it’s another ex. What is that saying about third times a charm? Or is it a nightmare?
“I want to talk.” He inches closer. “Do you have time to do that now?”
I do, but I’m wiped out.
“There’s a coffee shop a block from here.” He jerks a thumb toward the lobby doors. “Are you in?”
I should be out. Linny’s words of wisdom about Liam’s past entanglements war with my desire, but this is an innocent cup of coffee. What’s the harm in that? “I’m in.”
When I start walking toward the doors, he falls in step beside me. Our fingers brush against each other, but I pull mine away. I need to keep my hands off of him until I’m sure that another one of his ex-girlfriends isn’t going to pop up around the corner.
I takea seat across from him in a booth. We’re in a coffee shop with worn red leather bench seats. Our table is propped up by a book under one uneven leg.
It’s charming in an old-time New York City way.
The woman behind the counter knew Liam’s name and his order by heart.
Everyone turned when she called out, “Wolf,” to signal that our order of two medium coffees with cream and sugar was ready.
Blowing over the hot liquid in his cup, he keeps his eyes trained on my face.
Am I supposed to start this conversation?
“My brother is having a baby,” he announces. “Sebastian. He’s the oldest. Technically, his wife, Tilly, is having the baby.”
I take a second to shift my thoughts from his ex-girlfriends to his brother. “Did you see her at the hospital?”
