"I manage this place, actually," I said, starting on their drinks with hands that wanted to shake.
"That's great! Really great. I mean, it's good to stay busy, right?" His tone dripped with condescension disguised as encouragement. "Vanessa and I just got engaged. I'm at my father's firm now—junior partner track. We're looking at houses in Peppermint Creek.”
Of course they were. Peppermint Creek was the newest McMansion subdivision where the people were just as ridiculous as the cars they drove. Of course Devon had ascended to every milestone of traditional success while I was still figuring out how to afford both a gym membership and groceries for the month. The man had always been an insufferable "humble brag" sort of guy.
"Congratulations," I managed.
"Thanks. It's been a wild ride, but everything'sfalling into place." He watched me pour milk, and I felt his assessment as a physical force. "You seem good, though. Comfortable. I'm sure it takes a lot of skill to do what you do."
The subtext was clear: a trained monkey could pour coffee.
"You'd be surprised," I said as I handed them their lattes with a smile that hurt my face. "That'll be twelve-fifty."
“A steal of a deal,” Devon said with a cheesy grin as he made a show of putting a dollar tip in the tip jar that somehow felt more insulting than if he'd just skipped the tip altogether, and guided Vanessa to a table by the window. They sat close, heads bent together, the picture of young professional success.
I turned away and found Mika staring at me with wide eyes.
"Was that?—"
"Yeah."
"The one who said you lacked ambition?"
"The very same."
"With his perfect fiancée and his perfect career trajectory?”
“Yep.”
“He looks like a Ken doll.” Mika made a face following by a disgusted noise. "I hate him."
“Valid.”
But it wasn’t Devon that was the problem. Devon had always been a smug, entitled prick, even when we were dating —which, cut me some slack, I’d been young and easily impressed by stupid things —and he was just remaining true to his personality.
The problem was me. I didn’t know what I was doing with my life and that was starting to create a burning pit of panic beneath my breastbone. Shouldn’t I have something as important as the direction of my life figured out by now?
The espresso machine hissed, and I gratefully returned my attention to the task of cajoling a cranky machine into pumping out more orders.
But if my gaze wandered to the man sitting by the window, it wasn’t to see if he caught any of that embarrassing display, it was simply to wonder why he hadn’t left for the office yet.
The man kept to a schedule.
Until today.
two
CALLUM
The guy's voice carried across the coffee shop, each word landing with the artful intonation of a person who'd perfected the skill of seeming supportive while actually being condescending. I'd been watching this train wreck unfold from my usual corner table, laptop forgotten, black coffee cooling beside my hand.
"I heard through the grapevine you were working here. It's cute. Very you."
The comment made my jaw tighten. I'd heard variations of it before—from my own father, from colleagues who couldn't understand why anyone would choose simplicity over advancement. Benign enough on the surface. The delivery turned it into a weapon.
But hearing it directed at Willow, watching her shoulders pull back in that defensive posture I'd cometo recognize over a year's worth of morning observations, triggered a protective instinct I didn't have time to examine.
I'm assuming the guy—Devon? Kevin? Ah, right, Devon, the ex-boyfriend—had an unpleasant history with Willow. There was a micro-flare of familiarity as his gaze swept her body that gave away past history. I didn't appreciate that, either.
