What is it about him? Why does it feel like there’s somethingmore?
nine
LUCY
The last few days have flown past in a blur, each one spilling into the next before I even get a chance to catch my breath. The café’s been busier than usual, tables full, orders piling up, the clatter of cups and chatter blending into a comforting chaos. I’m not complaining, though. Not even a little. There’s something about the constant motion, the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods, the tiny moments of connection with regulars and strangers alike that makes me feel alive, even on the days that start before the sun.
I’m tucked behind the counter with my tablet, handling the not so glamorous part of café life, checking inventory and what needs to be reordered before next week, when the door chimes. I glance up just as Aidan walks in, Isla’s small hand clasped tightly in his. He moves like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders but trying not to crush her with it.
“Good morning,” I say, my voice a little too chipper for how early it is. There it is again. That little flutter in my chest I’m trying so hard to ignore. “What can I get you both today?”
Aidan gives me a curt nod, his eyes meeting mine for thebriefest of seconds before his attention shifts down to his daughter. “Black coffee and a hot chocolate, please.”
I catch Isla eyeing the fresh cinnamon buns in the display case. “Daddy, can we please get one of those?” Her voice is a sweet little plea.
Aidan’s brow furrows just enough that it’s obvious he’s weighing his options. For a moment, I almost expect him to say no. Then he looks down at Isla, her wide eyes full of hope, and I catch the moment his tough exterior cracks just a little.
“All right,” he sighs, giving in with a reluctant smile. “We can share one.”
“Great choice.” I shoot a wink in Isla’s direction. “Sit wherever you’d like. I’ll bring everything to your table when it’s ready.”
Isla’s chestnut curls bounce with each step as she skips toward a table, her little shoes tapping the floor. Mid-stride, she spins around, beaming at me. “Thank you, Miss Lucy!” she calls before turning back to her dad with a giggle.
As I prepare their order, I can’t help but steal a few glances in their direction. Isla is in full storyteller mode, her small hands waving around wildly as she recounts whatever adventure she’s on about today. Aidan listens intently, his stormy eyes focused completely on her. Every now and then, the corners of his mouth twitch, the faintest almost-smile pulling at his lips, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears.
Balancing the mugs and plate on a tray, I make my way over to their table. Isla’s eyes dance with delight as I set everything down, her small hands already reaching out.
“Careful, this is hot,” I caution, sliding the mug of hot chocolate closer to her. She nods, blowing on it with exaggerated puffs, her brows knit in concentration.
Aidan’s fingers graze mine as he takes his coffee, and lightning strikes straight through my veins. His eyescatch mine, and for a single, suspended heartbeat, everything else disappears—the café, the noise, even time itself.
I jerk my hand back, cheeks burning. I force my eyes elsewhere, but it’s useless. My heart is already tripping over itself, and the ghost of his touch lingers on my skin.
I clear my throat, my voice coming out a little more strained than I intend. “Apologies in advance for the sugar rush she’s about to get, Dad,” I joke, hoping the teasing tone will mask how flustered I feel.
His expression shifts. Firm and unreadable, like always. He’s not much for extras, I’ve noticed. No wasted words or unnecessary reactions. Just the bare minimum.
When he shrugs, it’s not dismissive. Just enough to tell me he’s heard me. “That’s all right. I think she’s earned it.” His voice softens a fraction, smoothness pushing in around the rough edges.
I steal another glance at him, brief enough that I think maybe he won’t notice. But he’s already looking at me.
Our eyes meet again, and for a heartbeat, that usual wall around him seems thinner. There’s something else there…suspicion? I’m not sure, but I find myself wanting to know exactly what it is.
“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy,” I say, taking a step back instead. “Just holler if you need anything.”
I’ve only just turned when Isla’s voice rings out. “Miss Lucy, wait!”
I glance over my shoulder and see bright eyes and cheeks smudged with icing.
“Do you want to hear about the fairy I saw in the garden yesterday?” Isla asks, bouncing in her seat as if the story might just burst out of her if she holds it in too long.
“Oh, Isla,” Aidan starts. “I’m sure Miss Lucy is busy?—”
“Not at all,” I interrupt. “I’d love to hear about it. Was it a big fairy or a tiny one?”
Isla beams. “Tiny! Smaller than my pinky.” She holds up her little finger. “It had sparkly wings and a shiny dress, and it flewrightpast the trees.”
I crouch beside their table. “That soundssomagical. Did the fairy say anything to you?”
