When we're finished, I clean up from breakfast, then go get myself ready for coffee with Owen.
The not-a-date coffee. The maybe-an-apology coffee. The coffee I thought would never come.
Here it is.
If only I felt ready for it.
Chapter 12
Owen
My slick palmsslide down the front of my shorts, my eyes trained on the front door of the coffee shop. It's opened three times in the past four minutes. Each time my breath has caught in my throat, and for nothing.
Autumn's almost ten minutes late. I'm not worried that she won't show. Autumn has plenty to say to me, tucked back behind her cool exterior. This is her time to let it all out.
Five minutes later, the breath catches in my throat once more, and this time Autumn steps in, eyes sweeping the place. Her gaze lands on me, and I see her throat move as she swallows.
Seeing her nerves relax my own, but only just slightly.
I leave my table and go to her. When I reach her, I lean down, and although I mean to give her a hug, something in me takes over and I end up with my lips pressed to her temple.
Her shoulders stiffen and I pull away. An apology is on my tongue until I see the look in her eyes. Longing and sadness swim in the brown-copper color.
I don’t know how to act around her, so I clear my throat and take a step away. "Would you like something to drink?" I motion to the blackboard listing their house specialties.
She shuffles from foot to foot, gathering herself. "Sure," she murmurs, leading the way to the register. She orders first, something that sounds complicated, but the guy behind the counter doesn't bat an eye. I order my plain black coffee and remove my wallet to pay.
"I can get it," Autumn says, her hand disappearing into her purse.
"No, I've got it."
"This isn't a date," she says, her voice sharp around the edges.
Great, she’s more keyed up than I thought she would be. I’m mentally preparing myself for the verbal ass kicking she’s going to give me.
"I'm aware," I tell her, my own voice taking on a razor quality. I hand cash over to the barista and we move on to the pick-up counter.
While we wait, Autumn spins the delicate gold bracelet she wears on her wrist. "I'm sorry," she says softly, not looking at me. "For the whole 'not a date' thing back there. My mom said something before I left, and I guess it put me a little on edge."
Wow, that’s the second time Autumn has apologized to me. She’s grown from the headstrong teenager I once loved. It also shows me how much she cares.
I nod, hands tucked in my pockets, watching the barista make Autumn's drink. "What did she say to you?"
Autumn's gaze finds me. "That she thinks today is about more than just us meeting to talk things out."
She says the words so matter-of-factly, I can't get a read on what her mother's opinion means to her. "Did you tell her she's wrong?" The barista appears in my peripheral vision, sliding Autumn's drink across the smooth stone countertop, mine comes right after it. I pick up hers and hand it to her, before taking mine, then lead her back to the table I sat at to wait for her.
"Yes. She's stubborn though." The corner of her mouth turns up as she talks about her mom.
"She certainly is," I agree, taking a sip of my coffee and trying not to wince at the heat.
"You've grown a lot closer to her since I left," she says, attempting a relaxed tone. She's not fooling me. I know she doesn't like how close I am with her mom.
"I saw her on and off before I became her doctor—when I came home from U of A to visit my dad, and during summer break."
Autumn nods. "I guess I'm glad she had you all this time."
"You don't sound like you mean that."
