Me: Don’t wuss out and give me the PG version again.
Lox: It’s my sex life!
Me: Whatever! Be safe. Wear a condom.
I’m happy for her. This guy is obsessed with her, and I know she would never admit it, but I think she’s obsessed with him too.
Childhood friends turned lovers.
At least one of us is having a happily-ever-after. A familiar name whispers across my mind, and my movements stop. Dark, buzzed hair and hauntingly striking dark blue eyes flash in my head, clear as day.
Row Kingsley, from what I could gather. Atlas’s older brother.
How do I know him?
The few days I spent in Columbus were a whirlwind. I still don’t think it’s a coincidence I had so many run-ins with the stoic, stone-cold eldest Kingsley sibling…
My brain circles back to our first ‘coincidental’ meeting.
I wake long before the sun has risen, the day after Sweet Haven’s grand opening. As I peel my eyes open, I groan at the darkness outside of Loxley’s apartment window.
I mentally curse the habit I picked up from my dad long ago. We were always early risers. I remember setting alarms in an attempt to catch him before he left for work. We would sit in the kitchen, and he would drink his morning coffee while I drank chocolate milk. It was one of the many things we shared when he was still alive.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and begin getting dressed despite grogginess still pulling me down. I messily brush my teeth and throw my hair up in a half-assed bun.
All of my father’s inherited features stare back at me in the mirror.
Golden sun-kissed skin, a light freckling across the bridge of my nose, and long brunette hair that grows faster than I can keep up with. I'm transported back in time when my sight snags on my hazel eyes. A time when I remember those same eyes, riddled with slight age and crows' feet, smiling back at me.
Miss you, Dad.
I sigh, throwing on a pair of tights and a hoodie before grabbing the key Lox had made for me and my purse. I disarm the alarm system and step out into the humid apartment complex’s hallway.
I don’t expect to see anyone out here, so I startle when I look up and almost run into two police officers dressed in blue, taking a statement from a middle-aged woman wearing a pink bathrobe.
Her blonde highlights look messy and unkept, and the dark bags under her eyes suggest she hasn’t been sleeping. “Please, I haven’t seen Charles in days. He always calls…” Her voice wavers as fresh tears fill her eyes.
One of the cops taps on the device in his hands, inputting information. “We’ll contact the company he works for and check if anyone has seen him.”
The woman perks up. “Can you let me know something once you do?”
The officers share a look before the one holding the tablet sighs. “We’ll be in touch, Ms. Parker.”
I squeeze by them, mumbling an apology as I walk towards the elevators. The last thing I want is to get caught snooping. My heart goes out to the poor lady trying to find her boyfriend, but I don’t want to end up being a shoulder to cry on.
Because my soft heart would make me comfort a total stranger, and I’m far too tired for that right now.
Luckily, Loxley’s apartment is only a block from a coffee shop.
I take the elevator down, crinkling my nose at the stale smell of the building. It isn’t a horrible complex, but my friend could have chosen something more up-to-date.
I step into the lobby and greet Mrs. Olivia with a wave before heading out onto the sidewalk. The morning air is just warming up, and I can make out the first ray of light in the sky as I take the emptied block. As I get closer to the quaint little shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose, and I’m all too eager to open the glass storefront door.
The bell overhead chimes, and I quickly scope out the frontof the shop. A man in a suit sits in the farthest corner with his laptop open and a coffee mug beside him as he taps away at the keys. A woman is standing at the counter, placing an order with the lone cashier running the morning shift.
My eyes gloss over the menu, and I quickly choose Loxley’s drink—something too sweet even to be considered coffee. I settle for something bitter to get the blood flowing and place my order once the woman before me finishes.
The barista works quickly, handing off our drinks like she’s being timed. I mumble a thank you before grabbing both cups. The lid of my drink teeters, almost slipping off, and I’m distracted as I attempt to fix it. I don’t even notice when the coffee shop’s doorbell chimes, and I almost run into the person walking in.
