by K. Ryan
So, although it was bad form to laugh at the expense of a customer pretty much anyway you looked at it, I just couldn’t help it. The laugh burst out of my throat and I immediately bit it back. Happiness sounded foreign and uncomfortable to my ears, especially when it was coming from me.
With both men’s eyes on me, Finn watching me with amusement and Ed glaring at me like he would rather drive his fork into my hand than use it as a utensil, I decided now was the time to get my ass off the floor. Ed needed his third cup of coffee, you know?
I managed to get all the way to the kitchen with a hand reaching for a fresh coffee pot, when Mara murmured in my ear: “Looks like your shift just got a little better.”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“You know him, right?” she pushed on, reflecting all the excitement I was trying and failing at concealing. “I mean, the way he was looking at you and waving at you...please tell me you know him because if you don’t, I’m stealing your table.”
“He’s my neighbor.”
Mara’s bright blue eyes widened with glee and she bounced on her heels, clapping her hands together in front of her like a little kid. “Of course he is. Oh, Emma, he is easy on my contact lenses that’s for sure. And he’s got that messy, unshaven hunter thing goin’ on. Like a Browning Adonis.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but there was no use. Can’t deny the facts.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing somebody?”
That snapped me back to reality. “I’m not seeing him.”
Mara’s eyebrows lifted high into her forehead. “Sure. Whatever you have to tell yourself, Em.”
“Come on, Mara. I think you’re making this a way bigger deal than it has to be.”
“Well, all I know is that this is the first time I’ve ever seen anyone come in this place specifically to see you, so I’d say it’s pretty damn monumental. Now, give Ed his coffee and take your break.”
“It’s not time for my break yet.”
She arched an eyebrow at me and leaned in closer. “Emma, stop making this so hard. It’s actually very simple: give Ed his coffee and go sit by your smokin’ hot neighbor already.”
More like long-legged guitar pickin’ neighbor, as June Carter Cash would say, but that was besides the point. Mara was the closest thing to an actual human friend I had and not only did she obviously have my best interest and well-being in mind, but she was right, too. To make her point, she practically shoved me back out onto the floor.
Coffee sloshed at my feet and I scowled at her over my shoulder, but as my shoulders squared and I got a good look at the scene in front of me, my steps skidded to a stop. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Ed was laughing. Not just any old chuckling, but heavy, belly-shaking, rip-roaring laughing. Finn had shifted around in the booth, one forearm slung along the divider between the two booths and his head tilted over the side as he murmured something to Ed that made my normally grumpy customer’s shoulders shake.
“Holy shit,” Mara whispered behind me. “He’s the Ed whisperer.”
There was no rhyme or reason to it. Had I suddenly fallen into the Twilight Zone? How did that go—something about a fifth dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity? That’s exactly what this felt like right now. It couldn’t be real.
Now, as I ventured closer, I heard different music in my head. This moment was like something from a Taylor Swift song…
When I filled up Ed’s coffee mug, he was still grinning back at Finn, but managed to spare a second to gesture to Finn and say, “I like this one. Keep him around, ya hear?”
I shot him a quick smile, eager to get back to the booth next to him. “Do you need anything else right away?”
Ed waved me off with his fork. “Go ahead and see your fella. I’ll be fine.”
It took a moment for his words to catch up with me and I found myself glancing back nervously at Finn, hoping he didn’t read too much into Ed’s off-the-cuff remark. The last thing I wanted was for Finn to get the impression I had some sort of revolving door of guys showing up at the café to see me. That was definitely the opposite of my reality, but I could also count on one hand the number of truly personal things Finn knew about me. Ed’s assumption that Finn was my ‘fella’ didn’t quite sit well with me either...and judging by the way Finn’s eyes lit up at the comment, he’d heard every word.
Still, that Taylor Swift song grew louder in my head, drowning out those pesky insecurities, and I found myself standing in front of Finn’s booth, feeling like I was really standing at the edge of a limitless precipice, teetering on the edge of something I used to think I’d never wanted again. Part of me wanted to cut and run, to hold him at arm’s length and keep my distance, but here I was, blowing my bangs out of my face and gesturing towards the empty seat across from Finn, watching it all begin again.
“So,” I started unsteadily. “I’m on break now. Is it alright if I sit?”
“Of course, Em,” Finn held a hand out across the table. “Have a seat.”
Now that I had permission, I swept one leg underneath the other and settled back into the squeaky, worn pleather bench. “Man, it feels good to sit.”
“You look tired,” he told me. “Late night?”
And just like that, he had me laughing again. “Yeah, I’ve got this really loud, annoying neighbor who thinks he’s this awesome guitar player, but all that awful picking is keeping me up at night.”
There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that I think I liked a little too much. “Ah. I see. Need me to go over there and put the asshole in his place?”
“Nah,” I batted a hand his way. “I think I can handle him.”
His entire face brightened and it was like he was lit from within, his sky-blue eyes glimmering and shining. Those eyes...they were thieves. Stealing my breath, stealing my resolve to keep my distance, stealing the axis my world rested on and tipping it sideways. Right about now, I didn’t know which end was up.
“I read some of your blog last night,” Finn informed me and that playful glint in his eyes just wouldn’t let up.
I cringed a little at the admission. God, I could only imagine what he thought of content like, “How To Prep Your Skin For Every Season” or “Which Toner Is Right For Your Skin?”. High-quality literature at its best.
“Great,” I managed to croak out.
“What do you mean great?” he laughed, leaning his elbows on the table to get closer to me. “It was interesting.”
I shot him a withering look, cocking both eyebrows at him and everything. “Right.”
“Yeah. I learned a lot actually. I feel like I should start exfoliating or something now,” he ran a hand through his scruffy beard just to reiterate his point. “Ah, but then again, I’d have to shave and that’s not happening.”
“Oh boy…” I groaned. “You don’t have to lie. It couldn’t have been that interesting to you.”
He held up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. Maybe some of it wasn’t...exactly my thing, if you know what I mean. But your writing—that was what was interesting to me. Your tone, your voice...you really seem to know what you’re talking about, but you’re not condescending or weird about it though, you know? Some of it was pretty funny, too.”
I still felt myself cringing with embarrassment. “Thanks. I guess.”
“I’m serious,” Finn pressed on. He was still grinning, but his voice was firmer this time, like he really wanted me to believe this. “Judging by all the comments and all the follows you have, your readers really like what you have to say. They seem to listen to you. That’s really cool, Emma. And you get paid for it, too. Doesn’t get much better than that.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”
I’d never really thought about it like that before. My blog, at least up until now, had always been a fun hobby that let me play with products I was interested in and sometimes get a little extra money on the side. The idea that my writing—not just the content, b
ut the actual form itself—had any impact with my readers beyond beauty advice was a brand-new and strange concept. Most of the time, my blog was more my excuse to get out of doing things than anything.
“I noticed you don’t use your full name on your blog though. Is that just a privacy thing? Or is it about branding?”
I sucked in a harsh breath. In the beginning, I’d chosen to stay anonymous mainly because I was just a senior in high school at the time and then after college, I’d wanted to keep my online life separate from my real life. Now, I might as well have been hiding behind it, too.
“Um, you know, it’s just a personal choice,” I offered lamely. “I guess I don’t really see the need to put all my information out there, you know? I don’t think anyone needs to know my last name in order to get the content.”
Finn just shrugged. “I can see that.”
My palms were getting sweaty and I needed to shift the conversation away from myself, so I fumbled for something that had been right on the tip of my tongue ever since I found out his last name. “Can I ask you a weird question?”
“Shoot.”
“Your last name is Matthews, right? Like the name of your family’s brewery?” I paused long enough for him to nod and seeing how his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, he probably already knew where this was going. “Isn’t there a Packer player with that last name? Are you related to him or something?”
His eyes lifted to the ceiling and then he blew out an exasperated breath before finally, hilariously, glaring back at me with hooded eyes. “You mean Clay Matthews?”
I was almost afraid to answer. “Yeah…?”
“No, Emma,” he pushed out roughly and it was clear this was a conversation he’d had many, many times before. “I’m not related to Clay Matthews.”
“Geez,” I laughed, lifting my eyebrows high into my forehead. “Sorry. It’s not that big a deal, is it? Isn’t he a pretty good player?”
Finn just lifted a nonchalant shoulder. I’d clearly hit a nerve. “I guess. He’s no Rodgers, but yeah, he’s alright.”
And then all the pieces flew into place.
“Oh my God!” my mouth dropped open with evil delight and I shot forward in the booth to jab my finger at him. “You have a man-crush on Aaron Rodgers! That’s why you hate when people ask about your last name! That’s so sad and beautiful and awesome all at the same time.”
“I do not have a…” Finn’s voice dropped an octave and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening, “man-crush on Aaron Rodgers. Keep your voice down, alright?”
My shoulders shook with laughter and I clamped down on my bottom lip to mask as much as I could. Finally, my hand slapped over my mouth.
“Stop laughing.”
That, unfortunately, only made me laugh even harder. I think I snorted I was laughing so hard.
“I’m sorry,” I managed in between unabashed giggles. Yep, I was giggling. The whole thing was just weird. “I can’t help it. I mean, if only your last name was Rodgers, right? Then everything would be perfect for you.”
Finn’s lips curled back into what I knew was a playful, albeit frustrated, snarl and he leaned forward against the table. “I have a deep respect for him. That’s all. He’s the best player in the league. He was the MVP last year for Christ’s sake. The dude has a 5-year, $110 million contract with the Packers. Why can’t I secretly wish I had his life, huh? What’s wrong with that?”
“Oh God,” I had to hold my stomach now. “You’re just making it worse.”
“You know what really sucks?” Finn scowled. “Sling got me one of those personalized jerseys a few years ago just to be a dick and rub it in my face. I literally own a Packer jersey with the number 12 on it and the name Matthews on the back. I can’t wear that in public because I’d look like a complete tool. It’s terrible.”
“That must be really hard for you,” I don’t know how I was able to form a coherent sentence while laughing so hard and I wiped some tears from my eyes.
“It is.”
All that got from me was another sputtering of laughter.
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” Finn crossed his arms sullenly across his chest. If I didn’t know any better, there was a hint of a smile there, too.
“I’m sorry,” I held up a hand and shook my head. “Seriously. I didn’t mean to lose my shit like that. I just didn’t expect...that.”
Oh boy. My shoulders were shaking again and I squeezed my eyes shut to get a handle on myself.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Finn tossed back lightly. “Hey, now that you’re done humiliating me—”
My eyes rolled right up to the ceiling. “Oh, come on.”
“Okay, fine,” he amended with a slight bow of his head. “Now that I’m done humiliating myself, I think we should talk about your cat.”
I had to swallow back the shot of panic that ripped through my stomach. “What about him? Did something happen? What—”
“Relax,” Finn fanned out both hands across the table to appease me. “He’s fine. I peeked over by your patio before I left and he was still there. No worries. I was just really wondering if you’re gonna cave tonight or not.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Really?” he smirked. “Come on, Em. You got that vet appointment right away in the morning tomorrow. There’s no way you don’t cave and let him in tonight.”
My mouth opened to protest, but all I could come up with was: “I don’t know...I don’t have anything for him yet.”
Finn just shrugged. “You gotta get stuff eventually. Might as well do it today so you’re all set for tomorrow. And then, since you’ll already be set, you’ll cave and let the little dude in. I know it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nodded easily. “I’ll bet you a whole pizza.”
“A whole pizza?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.”
His angle wasn’t really that difficult to decode. Regardless of whoever lost the bet, I assumed we’d still be sharing that pizza. Who paid for said pizza still remained to be seen. I had a feeling that had been his plan all along.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll take that bet.”
Besides, it wasn’t like I could really say no...who could possibly turn down the Browning Adonis? Nobody. That’s who. Not even an icy, closed-off girl like me could find the willpower to say no. From over Finn’s shoulder, I could see Ed getting a little fidgety in his booth, clearly needing his waitress, if not most definitely his bill and then my break was pretty much over.
“Hey, so, I gotta get back to work,” I told Finn as I started to slide out from the booth. “Thanks for letting me crash your table.”
“Anytime,” Finn smiled back at me. “Thanks for the company. And you were absolutely right about this pie. It’s honestly the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time. I’m definitely gonna need at least one more piece before I go.”
“I think I can make that happen,” then I pivoted on my heel to turn back to him and leaned down to lower my voice so my only other customer couldn’t hear. “Hey, just curious...what did you say to Ed? Before I sat down for my break?”
The smile that touched Finn’s lips gave me the sudden urge to launch myself into his booth and...I didn’t know what else I’d do.
“I just told him spending time with a beautiful girl and having a piece of banana cream pie wasn’t a bad way to spend a day off,” he shrugged. “And he agreed. That broke the ice pretty quickly.”
Something warm lodged itself in my throat. Even as I waved to him to head back to my shift, I heard Taylor Swift’s voice in my head, singing about how she used to think all love ever did was break and burn and end.
It wasn’t a Wednesday in a café though. It was a Thursday in a café, but I still watched it begin again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When I had my apartment door closed behind me, my eyes fell on Oliver, still perched on his chair, waiting for me to come home.
He stretched one lazy white paw up in the air and shifted onto his back with half-closed, sleepy eyes as if to say, Oh, hey. It’s you again.
My heart tugged and warmth spread out through my chest.
I was going to lose Finn’s bet. It was pretty much a foregone conclusion at this point.
The problem, I realized as I surveyed the space in my tiny, one-bedroom apartment, was that I had nothing for this cat and no idea what he even needed in the first place. Food bowls and toys I could probably figure out. But litter boxes and everything that went with it? I didn’t even know if I was feeding him the right food. There had to be something better out there than what I’d grabbed in a rush from the store last week. Should I be giving him wet food or dry food? What kind of treats did cats get anyway? And carriers! I needed something to smuggle him out of my apartment, but...I felt like a chicken with its head cut off.
My other problem, of course, brought me to why I was currently standing a foot away from Finn’s door. Sure, I could look all that up online. I could even wait and ask the vet all those rookie questions tomorrow, too. But no, I was standing outside Finn’s door, telling myself the only reason I stood here right now was because he’d mentioned growing up with cats in the house.
It was lame, but it was my excuse.
My fist lifted up to the door, ready to knock, but fell to my side just as quickly. Something as simple as knocking on a door shouldn’t be so difficult, but the reasons holding me back weren’t easy or simple by any means. Yet, I still wanted to knock on the door.
It was a beautiful, confounding feeling.
For all my misgivings about being here, the aura of peace surrounding the little time I’d already spent with Finn tempted me to knock on the door. But would doing that send me falling face-first into something I wasn’t quite ready for? Was I just setting myself up for yet another failure and yet another epically tragic disappointment? Wasn’t I better off in the long run if I just turned around right now and headed back to the safety of my own apartment?
Of course, the answer to all those questions was a resounding yes. If I knocked, this was a slippery slope I might never be able to find my way out from. If I knocked, it was just going to be that much harder to keep my carefully constructed walls in place. If I knocked, I’d essentially be inviting him into my life. I wasn’t sure I wanted or needed to do that.
