“It’s nice to meet you, Marie.” The barista called his name, sliding a hot paper cup across the counter, and he stepped away to get it. Then he was back before me, holding both cups, and tipping his head toward an empty table in the corner. “Come, sit,” he said.
I lifted an eyebrow, challenging. I’d always been a shy person, one who hated to rock the boat or be an inconvenience, but something about this man made me want to be different. To poke and prod and see how he would react. Maybe it was that he didn’t seem to recognize me or know who I was, which felt freeing. I couldn’t remember the last time I met someone without an introduction that created awkward expectations.
“Do I look like a dog?” Jackie always told me men didn’t like women to talk back, that it would scare them away, and I should play into the soft, sweet aspect of myself. But instead of being turned off, he seemed fueled by my sass, and there was a spark in his blue eyes when he responded.
“Would you please sit, Marie, and enjoy a coffee with a stranger?”
I grinned then, enamored by him and his wide smile and his messy hair. His sweatshirt smelled good, like expensive cologne and men’s deodorant, and I had the urge to sniff it.
We sat there until long after I had drunk my entire coffee and split my cookie, talking about everything and nothing at all the entire time.
I hadn’t had as much fun in years.
“It’s like those packets of frosting they give you for Toaster Strudels. What the fuck is that? That’s not nearly enough frosting for one pastry,” he said an hour later, clearly very passionate about the topic.
“A toaster strudel?" I asked, staring at him, confused. “What’s a toaster strudel?" His eyes bugged out, shock written across his face in the most dramatic way, and I snorted out a very unladylike sound.
“You’ve never had a Toaster Strudel? The frozen pastries with jam in the middle? You toast them up, then put the little packet of frosting on?” I shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Oh, honey, I have to widen your pastry horizons,” he said, and I don’t know if it was the low tone of his voice or the way he called me honey, but I liked it a lot. Heat moved through me, melting the embarrassment out of my body.
“Well, maybe—” I started, but then saw my screen flash from the corner of my eye, Jackie’s name on the screen. “Shit.” I grabbed the device and cursed again under my breath. “I have to go.” Somehow, I’d missed two texts from Jackie and a call. She was going to absolutelyloseit. “It was great talking to you!” Then I stood and left. It wasn’t until I was halfway to my place I realized I should have gotten his number, but for some reason, it didn’t even faze me; there was no disappointment rushing through me.
There was a spark, the universe pushing me towards him, and I knew in my gut we’d meet again.
It was meant to be.
Back then, I was still a hopeless romantic, still believed in true love, still believed I could have it all: the career of my dreams and a love that took my breath away. I’d thought I’d found it once before with a co-star, but I was young and stupid and a bit delusional, and it ended in a blazing tabloid mess. Still, that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
Even though Jackie looked absolutely irritated when I showed up, profusely apologizing, there was an air about her, an excitement that rubbed off on me. Or maybe it was the fact that I’d just had the most memorable morning of my life. I planned tohead down there again tomorrow morning, ask Sally, the barista, if she knew the man I’d been chatting with. See if maybe, just maybe, I could bump into him again, because an encounter like that was for books. Sweet and romantic, and the perfect “how we met” story.
I jumped into the shower, carefully folding the sweatshirt and hiding it in the back of my closet, then got ready. I was still floating on cloud nine. The usual anxiety that crept in when I heard the paparazzi’s call and saw their flashes didn’t even touch the joy I was feeling. In fact, despite knowing I was headed into an important meeting, I could only think of one thing—going back to the coffee shop the next day to find out who the man was.
And then I walked into the room, and my heart skipped. Sitting at the table was the man from that morning: Leo. He looked a bit different, his hair brushed and dressed in a suit, more put together, his face sterner, less joking, and guarded, but I recognized him all the same. My heart beat faster, my ears ringing as I realized I was right: the universe would bring me to him, though I didn’t expect it would be that soon.
I followed Jackie into the room, smiling so wide it hurt my cheeks, but some of that glow faded when he gave me a small, friendly but curt nod, and began moving to his papers and shifting things around.
As if he didn’t know me,
As if he didn’t recognize me.
I sat, trying to catch his eye to remind him naturally who I was, but moments later, Jackie was introducing us. Finally, Leo looked at me, and I still didn’t see any recognition on his face, just a blank, business-like slate.
“Hello, Ms. Stone. My name’s Leo, I work with Perfect Image Publicity and represent Atlas Oaks. I’m excited to speak with you about a media relationship that we believe would be greatly beneficial to both parties.”
His eyes were on mine, but they were blank, businesslike. There was nothing there, none of the kindness or intrigue I saw that morning, and I realized I had once again completely romanticized the moment.
I had thought there was something
Clearly, I didn’t have the same impact on him.
So I threw up my shield, the business one Jackie taught me to curate for the cameras, and I put that morning into a box in my mind, locking it in a safe and hiding it away. He wasn’t my dream man after all.
At the very least, if I was going to fall head over heels for a man at first sight, I wanted him to be able to recognize me outside of my glam.
It was the sign I needed, the realization that I could have the fairytale romance or I could have the career, but I couldn’t have it all.
“Okay,” I murmured with a nod, keeping my eyes down on the lengthy contract that was slid before me after the entire scheme was explained to me in lengthy detail, the benefits for my brand, the in-depth press plan, and even some projected results. It was black and white before me, the ending of any romantic ideals I had, and the decision to choose my career instead. “I’m in.”
That was the day I came to terms with the fact that the concept ofhaving it allis a lie.
