Page 126 of Fly Back to Me
“Thanks for coming in again. I really appreciate it,” I say.
Her smile beams as she plants her elbows on the counter. “You deserve the business. I was just waiting for a recommendation.”
I pivot to gesture toward the man I just served. “Milkshake IPA. Always my go-to. Especially if you’ve got a sweet tooth.”
“Great,” she says, raising her posture. “Let’s try it.”
She’s not hard on the eyes. Petite with long brown hair styled in soft waves. A smile that tells me she enjoys the sight in front of her.
But there’s a standard I hold, and it’s impossible for me to recognize this woman as stunning. Because the definition of beauty is subjective now. And I dare someone to tell me Olivia isn’t described next to the word in every goddamn dictionary.
My body moves behind the bar, weaving between my employees to carry out my job responsibilities. My hands and legs shuffle under the dusky lighting, but my head and heart are cemented in one place.
Her.
The woman I saved all those months ago.
It’s wild to wrap my mind around the fact that Olivia is the same person. Is it possible my heart knew it loved Olivia before I even stepped in? Were all the mishaps and delays that night life’s way of bringing my heart to the one person it wanted to give itself to? Could I have loved Olivia before I even met her, just as much as she loved me before we officially met?
Honestly, I believe anything is possible.
Because if the universe was able to form a human being as astonishing as Olivia, there’s nothing it can’t make happen. There’s nothing more magical than Olivia Sawyer’s existence.
God, what I’d give to see her sparkling green eyes again.
“I know why this is your go-to.”
The brunette’s voice cuts through my thoughts as I wipe down the bar top.
“I typically try not to steer my customers wrong,” I joke.
“Nice tattoos,” she coos.
I smirk as I briefly peer down at my inked forearm. “Thanks. I could do without some, but you live and you learn.”
“Not at all.”
My head jerks to see her leaning over her crossed arms, the neckline of her crop top angled purposefully. “You’re just saying that because my recommendation was good. If it wasn’t, you’d be judging them.”
She grins, shaking her head. “No, that’s not true.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I feel sort of rude not knowing a loyal customer’s name.”
“Kayla.”
“Cade.”
Her teeth ghost her bottom lip, but my attention diverts to the rag under my palm. “Is that a motorcycle scar?”
“Oh,” I pipe up, my eyes finding the battered tissue on my left forearm. “No.”
“Ah, I just assumed. I’m sorry,” she apologizes.
My head stays angled down as I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”
Behind this scar, memories are dug up, each one revealing a treasure that resides in my soul. Olivia strutting into my brewery that morning with a black cup of coffee, dressed to the nines to grab my attention. Olivia demanding to sit with me when I was all by myself at The Grind. Olivia driving me insane with thosedamn Post-it notes. Olivia and I escaping from here to find a slice of solace under a spreading tree. Olivia stripping down to a lingerie set in my office. Olivia smearing my lips with ice cream. Olivia risking it all to share the truth with me, only for us to make passionate love in the midst of the rain and mud.
Olivia.
