Page 17 of Lucy Loves Him Not
I had told Victor I wascertainlyinterested in volunteering because Icertainlywanted to be the type of person who was humble enough to help in any capacity no matter her history with the festival. Someone who would rise above conflict with Adam Stevens with peace and flowers, or whatever people who didn’t cling to their pride did in these situations.
Now, while I helped Olivia tear open boxes and organize her new cabinets, I was feeling less and less certain. My mind kept revolving around how quickly Adam was to tape a volunteer sticker on my chest and send me on my merry way.
“He wants to just wrap this problem up with a little bow and be done with it,” I said as I threw a crumple of packing tape to the side. “Me.I’m the problem he’s wanting to wrap up.”
“Of course, he’s wanting to wrap up this issue. That’s his job, Luce.” Olivia grinned at me, ever the level-headed big sister. “It’s not personal.”
“But it is personal. The festival is personal to me.” I pulled the stack of white melamine plates out of the box. “He knows it is, too. I told him very clearly. He just wants me and all my drama to go away. He wants to meet up with me and have me choose my volunteer position, time slot, and then close the book on the Rhodes women chapter of the festival.”
“Oris he trying to find a way to keep the Rhodes women involved with the festival, but in a way that works with his new vision?”
“That’s my problem,” I sighed. “The vision used to be such a personal thing to me. It was Grandma’s vision living on through me. Now, it’ll be the vision of some guy who has only lived in Sweet River for a couple of weeks.”
Olivia scooted the boxes between us away and wrapped her arm around me. “Lucy, if this is too hard for you, you don’t have to meet up with this guy. You don’t have to be a volunteer. This festival holds a lot of memories for you and is all wrapped up with grief and Grandma’s loss. You could just wash your hands of it.”
But it was all those strings of grief and nostalgia wrapped up in it that made it impossible for me to untie myself from the festival.
I would show up to this thing no matter what and however they’d take me because for me, it was showing up for Grandma.
It was a short walk from Olivia’s house to the coffee shop, so I soaked in the early summer sunshine on my shoulders while strolling down the sidewalk. I passed the red brick antique store, the tiny Episcopal Church, and my favorite record store. I had on a long green skirt that the balmy breeze kept floating around my calves.
I arrived in front of the coffee shop and came to a sudden halt. My heart skipped in hesitation. I could see Adam through the windows. He was at a table already with an iced coffee sitting on the table before him.
My heart felt like it was climbing up my throat. I took in a nervous, jagged breath. This guy got me all twisted up. I wasn’t sure what it was about him that made me so nervous.The feelings were blurry. Was I fed up with this guy or feeling leftover butterflies from our first messages?
Fed up, definitely fed up.
Then his eyes found me through the window. I audibly gasped when he smiled at me through the glass.
I forced a smile and walked through the door, the bell chiming overhead, the scent of ground coffee and lemon loaf hitting my senses.
“Lucy!” Katie cheered my name as I walked toward the counter. She knew my order and started making it when she saw me. Katiewhose last name used to be Hernandez, I remind myself. Victor Hernandez’s older sister.Did she know about our setup the other night?
We chit-chatted as she made my order. I tried to steady my heartbeat and prayed I wasn’t sweating.
“That looks great,” Adam said as I sat down with my iced latte moments later. “What is it?”
“It’s an oat milk lavender latte,” I said, accepting his attempt at small talk. “What’d you get?”
“A peppermint iced latte,” he said, shaking the ice in the cup.
“A Christmas drink in May?” My eyes squinted in judgment.
“Peppermint is not a Christmas flavor. It’s an anytime flavor and also happens to be my favorite. Now, peppermint mocha, on the other hand, that is a Christmas drink.”This guy really thinks he has everything figured out.
“What about a gingerbread latte? Is that a holiday drink?” I countered.
He thought for a moment then said, “Gingerbread, yes.Ginger, no.”
I took a sip of my sweet drink. “So, you do this know-it-all thing with everything, including beverage flavors?”
“So, you do this snippy comment thing on everything, including my drink preferences?” he said back, fast as lightning.
I laughed before I could stop myself. His eyes were warm on me like standing near a bonfire. I fidgeted nervously with the little vase of daisies on the table. “Daisies are my favorite flower. They make me so happy.” I was rambling now.
“They make you happy, huh,” he said, clearing his throat and getting back to business. “Well, we met here for a reason, didn’t we?”
“We did.”
