Lovesick (Coffee Shop Series Book 2)

by Katie Cross

  “What are your favorites?”

  “Right now? The Lais of Marie de France.” She brightened. “They’re poems about love, written in 1170, or something like that. I adore them. They’re all courtly love, illicit affairs, and romantic tragedy.”

  “Ah, you love a little drama?”

  “I love a little love,” she quipped, then murmured, “I saw this lady; now a dart of agony has struck my heart. It makes my body shake and shiver. I think I really have to love her.”

  “One of the poems?”

  She smiled and tossed me the bag of tiles, her own already neatly arrayed on her tray. “Since you’re the hero, you go first.”

  The fire crackled as I regarded my options. L, P, F, U, H, M, and Q didn’t give me many. I laid out a rather pathetic L-U-M-P.

  “You just finished college, and now you’re taking a break for a year, but you have a job application in somewhere, right?” I ventured.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Pinnable.”

  “Pinnable? What’s that?”

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it.”

  “Never.”

  “JJ!” Shock threaded her voice. “Are you so removed from the world that you don’t know what Pinnable is? It’s one of the biggest social media platforms ever. You can organize things by corkboards and notes and images and . . .”

  I shrugged.

  She laughed. “I’m not sure if I’m impressed by the fact that you’ve never heard of it, or frightened by it.”

  “You should be impressed.”

  Her smile broadened. “Then I am. It’s a social media app that I use all the time, and have for years. Working there would be . . . a dream. At least, I hope it would. I think it would. I could use my expertise in computer programming to help them improve basic layouts, functionality, etc. I’d hopefully work more on the back end. The layers of complexity in that kind of coding have me intrigued.”

  Another stretch of calm fell between us as she rearranged a few letters. Her thoughts seemed far from the game, however.

  “Is it a job that would make you happy?” I asked.

  She frowned. “I don’t know. I think so. I mean . . . I’m concerned that it’s based out of Florida because I missed my sisters so much when I was away for college, but I guess I’ll have to deal with that.”

  “What does make you happy?”

  Why I asked, I had no idea, but a hint of color appeared in her cheeks, so I didn’t regret it. For a moment, I thought she’d change the subject, but then she laid down her letters. L-O-V-E. Her eyes slammed into mine like a wall of bricks.

  “What makes me happy? Well, that’s easy. My wall of romance books at home in the Frolicking Moose.”

  “You have a wall of books?”

  “Last count was 956.”

  “What?” I leaned back. “That’s incredible!”

  “They’re all romance.”

  I almost laughed, then realized she was serious. Instead, I managed to only lift my eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

  “I have almost a thousand romance novels.” She grinned. “They make me so happy.”

  “Romance makes you happy?”

  “Deeply.”

  Stunned, I could only blink for a moment. “Do tell.”

  “Romance is a lifesaver.”

  If I hadn’t been curious before, I was utterly transfixed now. Instead of considering my tiles, I just stared at her. Living with Mark for the last thirty years meant I’d heard a lot of crazy things, but not that.

  Never that.

  “Please,” I said, “explain.”

  She grinned. “Gladly. That cheesy saying that love makes the world go round? I actually believe that. I think romance saves lives. It enhances. We crave it all the way to the marrow of our bones. Look at Hollywood. At the top music charts. Everyone talks, acts, and sings about love.”

  “Well, it sells, right?”

  “Yes! You prove my point.”

  “That proves nothing except people want it and they pay for it.”

  “Love and romance are built inside us.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “They’re instincts.”

  I scoffed. “Love and romance are totally different.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Are they?”

  My response faltered before I decided to sidestep that and focus on something else. Because I honestly didn’t know. Romance and I were not friends. Not since my ex-girlfriend Stacey pulled my heart out with her bare hands and stomped on it. Love?

  Even worse.

  “Have you ever been in love?” I asked.

  The expression on her face dimmed. “No.”

  “In a relationship?”

  She shook her head.

  Interesting that someone of her intelligence would buy into such a . . . naive scheme. Doubly interesting that she’d never been in a relationship. What kind of idiots at her college had let her go? Then again, if she’d never been heartbroken, maybe it was easy to hold on to the hope that storybook romance was real.

  “Can you tell me why you think it saves lives?” I asked.

  “In the same way that anything good saves lives. Maybe it inspires hope. Stops people from doing something stupid. Helps someone feel like they belong. Creates safety.” Her angled jaw highlighted the challenge in her stare. I wondered if she was upset by my questions. She seemed nothing but determined.

  “Inspiring hope doesn’t save lives.”

  “What if you’re on the verge of suicide but you find hope again through love?”

  My mouth opened, then closed. She stared hard at me now. Did she want me to protest, or something? Because I would, once I found my voice again. This was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.

  “Romance also destroys,” I said.

  She tilted her head. “In what way?”

  “Romance is just as destructive as it is hopeful. What about hearts that get crushed? Relationships that don’t make it? Love that’s one-sided? Romance is the kind of thing people never recover from in the worst way.”

  Lizbeth regarded me for a second. The question seemed to hover on the tip of her tongue. Who broke your heart, JJ? I imagined her asking.

  But I wouldn’t tell.

  Not yet, anyway. And she didn’t ask, which earned her a point of respect in my mind.

  “But that’s not romance,” she replied. “That’s manipulation. True romance is two-sided.”

  “Disagree.”

  She smiled. “That’s fine. I’m not trying to convert you to a religion, JJ.”

  Then why did I feel like a spotlight was shining on me and holy water awaited? I licked my lips. “I’ve never thought of love or romance the way you’ve talked about it,” I admitted to soften my next blow. “And I think it sounds totally . . .”

  “Insane?” she supplied.

  “Unrealistic.”

  “You think because I haven’t been in a relationship before, nor been in love, that I couldn’t know what I’m talking about.”

  My silence spoke for me. Her grin broadened, clearly unbothered.

  “I’m not surprised you think so. It’s a little too traditional for most people these days. But it’s . . . I choose to believe in this. I choose to believe that love and romance are real. One day I could be proven wrong, but I don’t think so.”

  “Do you go full traditional?” I asked. “Barefoot and pregnant? White picket fence? Babies on babies?”

  “Yes. Do you?”

  The thought of marriage and babies used to make my throat close. Inhibition of my freedom? No thanks. Lately, it didn’t seem so bad. Maybe it was age. Life experience. Maybe desperation. Her comment didn’t frighten me the way it would have five years ago.

  But it sure didn’t feel comfortable now.

  I shuffled the tiles around the bag. “Ah . . . not sure on that.”

  She made a sound in her throat, then motioned to my tiles. “It’s your turn.”


  I set down another pathetic word—S-C-A-R-E-D. My palms started to sweat. Stacey had worked a real number on me eight years ago. Since she’d crushed my heart, I hadn’t tried again. Sometimes I felt pathetic, like she’d won. She’d been a post-college love affair. My feelings for her had spiraled deep and fast. I’d thrown almost everything away to be with her, thinking it had been real.

  My throat thickened in the few moments it took Lizbeth to consider her tiles and lay down another word. H-E-A-R-T.

  With a mental whip, I forced myself back to focus. Lizbeth rearranged her new tiles. She hummed so softly that I wondered if she even realized she was doing it.

  “Why?”

  The word came out of me as a croak.

  Her lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. “Why have such loyalty to romance?” she asked.

  “I mean . . . it’s a concept.”

  Why did my voice sound so defensive?

  “Like love?” she countered.

  “I have no idea.”

  She held two fingers apart from each other. “Romance and love aren’t the same thing. Romance is what paves the way for love. It aligns the situation so love happens.” She brought the fingers together. “When love and romance are paired? I believe anything can happen. Romance is . . . proof that you do love. That you know that person deeply enough you’ll do something to show it. Romance must come first.”

  “Romance meaning chocolates and flowers and . . .”

  My mind went blank.

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “What’s your definition of romance?”

  Her hands paused over her tiles as I arranged C-U-S-P on the board. She licked her lips and let out a long breath.

  “That,” she murmured, “is a very personal question indeed.”

  My desire to know her answer unnerved me. I let it ebb away. The very act of withholding the information only made me want it more, but I didn’t think Lizbeth insincere enough to do that on purpose.

  We didn’t say another word for a long time, and in the silence, I finally found my breath again.

  Lizbeth won.

  7

  Lizbeth

  The day unfurled in a whirl of games, laughter, and reading from the safety of their couch in front of the fire. At noon I called Maverick and told him the sordid details of what had happened, but only after I secured his agreement not to tell Bethany yet. With every word, I felt a little better. More firmly rooted in reality.

  For me, the quiet day was almost perfect. Mark paced the attic and popped in and out. JJ inventoried his climbing gear and muttered to himself.

  Time with the Bailey brothers hadn’t been what I’d expected. JJ had a restless energy of his own, different from Mark’s. He seemed . . . bored. Uncertain. Mark was exactly like I thought he’d be, but kinder.

  In the depths of my heart, I couldn’t believe I’d spent the day with them. My mind couldn’t seem to wrap around it.

  It was too distracted by JJ’s sincere smile.

  Part of me never wanted to leave. Another part couldn’t wait to go. Real life awaited. The more I lingered here, the closer I felt to JJ.

  Sweet baby pineapple, but this whole living-a-romance-plot was not what I’d hoped. The books made this all so romantic. So simple. Instead, I felt stressed out by the fact that I’d almost died and annoyed that I couldn’t stop looking at JJ.

  At 9:00 the next morning, my breath puffed out in front of me as JJ led me to the Zombie Mobile. The truck rumbled to life with Mark in the driver’s seat, and the tailpipe belched black smoke. Three feet of snow ringed us on either side of the pathway Mark had cleared. The banks glittered in the bitter-cold sunshine.

  JJ wore no coat, just a simple jacket that zipped all the way up. A hat covered his head and pushed his long hair onto his neck. I wanted to run my fingers through it. Although I was eager to prepare Bethany’s house for their return, I wished I could stay and observe more.

  What was JJ hiding?

  What had really made him look so cornered during our conversation yesterday?

  Someone had broken his heart, and I wanted to know how. Likely he thought me a romantic fool for believing in love like I did. He wasn’t the only one. Others had certainly told me as much. I always ignored them easily, but something about the wariness in his gaze wouldn’t leave me.

  JJ faced me with a smile. “Thanks for the company, Lizbeth. It’d be great if you could be here every time we were snowed in.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a laugh, and cleared my throat. “I mean . . . for everything.”

  The first hint of a rueful smile crossed his lips. “Anytime.”

  “Listen, I—”

  “I’ll see you in town?” he said at the same time.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Did you have something else you were about to say?”

  Just don’t stop being my friend? I thought. Never cut your hair? Sweep me off my feet?

  “No.” I shook my head and cursed my awkwardness. “Nothing.”

  Mark banged a hand on the roof of the Zombie Mobile. “Regulators!” he shouted. “Mount up.”

  JJ grinned. “You’ll win bonus points with Mark if you rap the rest of that song on the way into town.”

  My lips twitched. “I happen to know it. Come in for free green tea anytime. On the house.”

  His half grin broke into a true smile that melted my heart. If he looked at me like that every day, I’d never get anything done. Pinnable would be forgotten. My romance books would burn to ash in my hands. The world would fall apart. I could stare into those warm eyes for the rest of eternity.

  So that feeling in the books wasn’t a lie.

  My parting words failed halfway out of my mouth, landing in my lap in a garbled heap. His brow lifted in silent question as I stood there, half-gaping at him. A thousand words whipped through my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to say any of them.

  Will I see you again soon?

  Do you think I’m crazy because I love romance?

  “Bye, JJ.”

  My insides turned to mush when he yanked open the ancient truck door. Although I could have stared at his jawline all day, I felt a modicum of relief that I could leave the pressure of being around him. It had been years since I’d crushed on anyone this hard.

  An almost-romance was exhausting.

  As I turned to go, I hoped for a classic romantic ending to this highly romantic situation. A hand on my wrist, maybe. He’d stop me. Nervously lick his lips, then ask me to stay. Maybe laugh about his brashness and say it’s just not like him to ask that. Or tell me he’d never opened up like that before, and he felt something. Wanted to see what would happen if we indulged in it.

  But no touch on my wrist followed.

  Instead, I climbed into the ancient truck that groaned under even my paltry weight. Out of sheer pride, I refused to look back. He called out a cheery farewell. I thought I saw him wave from the corner of my eye as I managed a blind wave back.

  I didn’t want to see him standing there in the winter brilliance, as far from me as any person had ever been.

  “Don’t let him scare you off. He’s a total teddy bear.”

  Mark made that announcement as he plowed a narrow path down the road. Snow scraped the side with an intense grating sound. I held onto a bar above my head as we bounced along, and thanked the goddess of winter storms that JJ, rather than Mark, had found me.

  “Wh-what do you mean?” I called.

  “JJ.” Mark glanced at me for a second. “He’s like a freaking acorn. Hard as hell on the outside, but the goodness is really inside.”

  Awful metaphor aside, he couldn’t be more wrong.

  “JJ is the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. He’s not hard on the outside.”

  “Sure. Unless you’re interested in him, like you are. Then he’s a nightmare.”

  Mark chuckled when my eyes widened, then he downshifted and shaved off a healthy chunk of snow as we turned a sh
arp corner. The back wheels slid into a snowbank, and the entire truck shuddered. Although I braced myself for the inevitable crunch of whipping into the bank, it never came. The reliable old monster just kept eating up the snowy road.

  “Who said I’m interested?” I managed to choke out.

  Mark scoffed. “Right, Lizbeth. As if your entire heart isn’t written on your face. You’ve always crushed on him. You light up like a Christmas tree when he walks into the Frolicking Moose.”

  I scowled. He laughed. I folded my arms over my chest, and my cheeks flared with heat. This situation had always been way funnier in the books. Novels never emphasized the pure mortification of being read so easily.

  Of course, I could deny it, but what was the point? Mark already knew. And if he’d seen it, JJ might know. That explained his very normal goodbye. Maybe he’d intentionally interrupted me earlier and made it look like an accident.

  Friend-zoned.

  “Well,” Mark called over the rumble of the truck. “At least you aren’t denying it.”

  “No. I’m not going to deny it. JJ is . . . special.”

  “You’re in good company. Women flock to him. It’s the most aggravating thing. He’s got those great eyelashes, the sexy hair. Then women talk to him and he’s gentle, cares about animals and people’s emotions, then, bam! Walks away, leaving broken hearts in his wake.”

  “Why?” I asked, shivering and pulling my sweater tighter around me. The Zombie Mobile wasn’t any better at producing heat today.

  Mark shrugged. “To be fair, he doesn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Doesn’t he want a relationship?”

  “Nope.”

  “Who broke his heart?”

  Mark chuckled as he downshifted. The bridge loomed ahead. Flashbacks of two nights ago raced through my mind. I dug my fingers into the seat.

  “He broke his own heart. Kind of. JJ used to be a wild romantic. Flowers. True love. Sparkle lights, or whatever that crap is.”

  My heart thudded as we rattled over the old bridge, but it had nothing to do with the river frothing below. Sparkle lights? I wanted to say. Are you five? It’s twinkle.