Page 3 of Bree

With that settled, I head in to take a shower and get ready for the day.

***

Café Lola is an adorable brunch place with primarily outdoor seating and a giant bakery case. They have the best waffles I’ve ever had in my life – churro waffles smother in cinnamon cream. I feel giddy at the thought. Matt is waiting out front when I walk up. He’s looking sharp in dark-wash jeans and a dark gray button-up shirt. He waves when he spots me, and I swallow hard at the way the material of his shirt stretched across the thick muscles of his chest.

“Hey.” I chirp as I jog up to him. Today I decided on blue jeans ripped at the knees, a cream cardigan over a red tank, and my classic black converse.

“Hi Bree,” he replies with a grin. He opens the door for me, and we wander inside. The bakery case is full of mouth-watering confections, but I have my heart set on those waffles, so I try to ignore it. Matt is another story.

“Oh wow! I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much cake in one place!”

“I feel like you’re exaggerating a bit,” I say with a laugh. “Their desserts are awesome, though; I highly recommend the strawberry shortcake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He says and turns when a waitress approached us.

“Hi there,” she chirps. “Table for two?”

“Yep,” I reply with a smile before Matt has the chance. “Do you have anything out back by the fountain?”

“Sure thing. Right, this way.” She grabs two menus and leads us out onto the back patio. It’s decorated with lush flowering plants and vibrant green crawling vines. The fountain against the back wall has a remake of The Thinker in the center: the water cascades from behind his head and blankets his stone shoulders in gentle rivulets. It sets a calm atmosphere that draws several of the local writers. They can often be found perched at a table with coffee and sweets, typing away on their laptops.

Once we are seated, we both prop open our menus, even though I already know what I want.

“So, what’s good here?” Matt asks, and he runs his eyes over all the options.

“The soup is always good. The chef whips up something new every day. The burgers are great, and the strip steak salad is to die for. My personal favorite is the churro waffles, though. I almost always go for it.”

In the end, Matt goes for the steak salad with extra blue cheese and a cup of the soup du jour–French onion. I order my churro waffles with extra syrup, and we both order a cup of strong black coffee.

“I don’t know anyone who takes their coffee black except me anymore,” Matt laughs and raises the steaming mug to his lips.

“I can’t stand anything sweet in mine,” I reply. “I like the richness of it on its own.”

We spend a few minutes digging into our meals. He groans around a mouthful of steak, and I drown my waffles in syrup and let the blend of butter, cream, and cinnamon melt into my taste buds.

“Here’s what’s going on for Saturday,” Matt begins. I set down my fork and give him my attention. He takes another sip of his coffee. “My mother always throws a big party for New Year’s Eve. It’s mostly family, a few friends, and my father’s closest colleagues from the firm, but it’s still a bit on the formal side. Not exactly black-tie, more cocktail attire.” The more he says, the more nervous I become. I wasn’t expecting something formal or quite so large… Or meeting so much of his family at once.

“Will be mingling for the most part, but fair warning now my aunt and my cousins can be nosy, and I have a feeling they’ll be following us around for a good chunk of the night. That means we’ll have to play the part fully all night. We have to make sure we don’t slip up, or they’ll be all over it.”

“Got it. We should probably come up with a backstory; you know at the very least your mother is going to ask how we got together again after all these years,” I say, and take another bite of my food. I don’t even know how I’m still eating at this point. My stomach is in knots. This situation is a lot more complicated than I initially thought it would be, but I’ve got to stick it out; I don’t go back on my word.

“We’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Why don’t you tell me more about your life now?”

“There isn’t much to tell. I work with kids, got my degree in special needs education, and now I tutor middle schoolers who need extra help with their education. I still love Thai food, and my favorite dessert is still–”

“Banana pudding with extra cookies,” Matt finishes.

“I can’t believe you remember that,” I say and laugh.

“How could I forget? You dragged me to Miss May’s shop everything weekend in high school. Is that place still around?”

“Yep! Though Miss May’s granddaughters are running the place now. The banana pudding is still just as good. My turn to ask a question.” I lean my elbows on the table with a grin. Matt raises a brow. “Marvel or DC?” He tosses his head back and barks out a surprised laugh.

“How is that even a question? You know the answer will always be Marvel,” he replies.

“Just had to be sure we are still on the same page.” I smile and wink.

Throughout the evening, we find out that we still have a lot in common despite the years between us. I can’t help but feel the spark of attraction for Matt blooming all over again. I know, dangerous territory considering he just asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend, but I can’t seem to help myself. He’s handsome, funny, intelligent, and it certainly doesn’t help that I had such strong feelings for him back then. After lunch, I head back home and pull on my workout clothes. I need to burn off some of this excess energy. I unfold my purple yoga mat and pull my hair up into a messy bun before leaning forward, lengthening my back, and stretching my fingertips down to the floor. The pull in the backs of my thighs feel incredible, and I wiggle my hips a bit, leaning further into the stretch.

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