“Everyone keeps giving me advice today.”
“Sorry. I’ll stop.”
“No, it’s—” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s fine. It’s good advice. I’m just not great at not forcing things.”
“I remember.”
The words hang between us. Heavy. Loaded.
Michelle arrives with a fresh towel and a mop, because apparently the coffee situation has escalated beyond napkin territory. “You two okay over here?”
“Fine,” we say in unison.
Michelle raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
From across the room, I hear Ellen’s greatgrandma’s voice carry over the general murmur of the coffee shop: “Hazel, isn’t that the flower girl and the rock star? Why do they look like they want to kiss and kill each other at the same time?”
“Great-Grandma Hensley ships it!” Ellen calls out helpfully.
“Ellen!”
“What? She does!”
Delilah’s face has gone red again. “I should go. I have to open the shop.”
“You didn’t get your coffee.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Let me buy you a new one. It’s the least I can do since I’m wearing most of it.”
She hesitates. Every instinct is probably telling her to run, and I wouldn’t blame her.
“One coffee,” I press. “To apologize for...what I said. It wasn’t fair.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it.”
Ellen has abandoned the napkin mission and is watching us with open fascination. Hazel is trying to wrangle her back, but even she keeps glancing our way. Grandma Hensley has given up all pretense and is just staring, a delighted smile on her face.
We have an audience. A very invested, very nosy audience.
“One coffee,” Delilah finally says. “And then I really do have to go.”
I wave Michelle over and order Delilah’s usual—a chai latte, extra foam. I remember. Of course I remember.
Delilah notices. I see it in the flicker of surprise across her face.
“You remember my order?”
“I remember a lot of things.”
Another loaded silence. Michelle delivers the chai with a knowing smile and retreats.
“So,” Delilah says, wrapping her hands around the cup. “Monday.”
“Yes,” I agree.
