Page 4 of Caffeinated in Amesbury
“Right,” I agreed, smiling despite the tightness in my chest. The list before me grew—pros on one side, cons on the other—yet, it was Amesbury that tipped the scales, its weight worth more than the sum of its parts.
I stood, the chair rolling back with a decisive screech. Ambition had always been my compass, but what if it pointed south when my heart was due north?
With a flourish, I closed my laptop, the click resounding like a judge’s gavel. My auburn hair cascaded down my back as I retrieved my favorite scarf—a splash of crimson in the monochrome office—and wrapped it around my neck.
“See you on the flip side, Heather,” I called, heels clacking a farewell march on the polished floor.
“Amesbury won’t know what hit it,” Heather replied, a salute to the unexpected, to the bravery of seeking joy over jadedness.
“Neither will I,” I admitted, blue eyes reflecting the twinkling lights of the city one last time before stepping into the elevator.
3
Felicity
The bus chugged to a gentle halt, and I stepped onto the platform of Amesbury Station, a giddy flutter in my stomach like the wings of a captive bird set free. The whistle of the bus faded into the crisp winter air, mingling with the distant peals of laughter from children ice-skating on a frozen pond nearby.
“Blair!” I called out, eyes scanning the crowd for that unmistakable shock of short, wavy blonde hair.
“Felicity? Holy candy canes, is that you?” Blair emerged, voice a flute amidst the timpani of bustling travelers.
“Unless I’ve been body-snatched by aliens on my way here,” I jested, wrapping her in an embrace that felt like sinking into a memory foam mattress after a long day.
“Girl, you’re just in time for the coffee bonanza at Caffeinated Bliss. It’s like if Christmas threw up all over a coffee shop—in the best possible way,” Blair giggled, linking arms with me.
“Lead the way,” I said.
We meandered through the streets of Amesbury, past windows showcasing hand-knit scarves until we reached the café. The sign above the door, ‘Caffeinated Bliss,’ was etched in elegant script, backlit by a soft amber light that spilled onto the snowy pavement.
“Every time I come here, it’s like walking into a hug,” Blair mused, pushing open the door.
The bell above tinkled, announcing our arrival as we stepped into a world of warmth and welcome. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans enveloped me, a fragrant prelude to the symphony of clinking cups and low murmurs of conversation that filled the café. Twinkling lights were strung across the ceiling like stars, while a jazz rendition of “Jingle Bells” crooned softly from a corner record player.
“Isn’t this just... perfection?” I breathed, her gaze sweeping over the patrons nestled in their seats like kittens curled up before a hearth.
“Only gets better with the eggnog,” Blair replied, steering us toward the counter with a practiced ease. “Cole! Two of your finest eggnogs, please!”
“Coming right up!” He flashed a smile as bright as the tinsel draped over the espresso machine.
“Remember last year when this place was almost out of business? We worked our magic and now look at it. Thought I’d miss New York City, but honestly, I’m right where I belong.”
“I needed to get away from the city. This was the best memory from last year… I missed you!”
“Hey, you could trade in those skyscrapers for cinnamon sticks,” Blair winked, nudging me playfully.
“Maybe,” I mused, a wistful note threading through my laughter. “I must say, the skyscrapers don’t smell nearly as enticing.”
“Nothing beats the scent of home-brewed ambition,” Blair quipped, accepting two steaming mugs.
“Cheers to that,” I chuckled, the rich, creamy liquid warming more than just my hands as I took a sip. My heart settled into a rhythm paced by the comfort of old friendships and the simple joy of being exactly where I needed to be.
In the midst of my laughter, my gaze snagged on a figure emerging from the back room of Caffeinated Bliss. The man moved with an assurance that seemed to command the very air around him to stillness. His dark brown hair was tousled just shy of recklessness, and his green eyes held the kind of depth you could fall into if you weren’t careful. There was something undeniably enigmatic about him.
“Is that Thomas?” I asked Blair, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush.
“Yeah, he has been preparing for a marathon,” Blair replied with a knowing smirk. “Part-time barista, full-time brooder. I always thought you and him were going to end up together last Christmas.”
I watched as Thomas navigated through the tables, each step deliberate, his gaze occasionally lifting to survey his dominion with a silent sort of pride. His fingers brushed against the spines of books lining the shelves, a tender gesture from a lover to his beloved. Even from a distance, I could feel an instant connection, a magnetic pull that quickened my pulse.
