Page 21 of Fly Back to Me
“Or you can just answer my question,” I reply coolly.
“A friend,” she retorts. “Hannah.”
A friend from college. Legitimate or a cop-out? I used to know without batting an eye.
I shrug, my lips flatlining. “I was just curious who’s got your attention more than me right now. Especially when we haven’t had a night like this in a long time. A nightyousuggested earlier in the week.”
Her face tenses when I deliver the snarky remark. “I don’t have to talk every second of every moment with you. That’s ridiculous to expect of me, and I don’t even see you sparking up conversations.”
“I didn’t say you needed to speak every second,” I challenge. “I was making an observation. One where your face is buried in your phone most of the time, making menotcare to spark a conversation with you. At all, actually.”
She rolls her eyes, taking her wine to sink back in her seat. “You really know how to set the mood on a date night, don’t you?” she quips, raising the brim of the glass to her mouth. “I’m justdyingto jump your bones when we get home.”
I shuffle forward in my chair, crossing my forearms over the table as my palms cradle the cotton of my flannel. “I’d give you the world if that’s what you asked for. You know that,” I confess lowly. “You can talk to me, Jenna. I’m not your enemy.”
Her body softens, the release of the pressure reaching her eyes. Those blue irises glimmer with the reflection of the tealight, and her lips tip up in the corner. “You’re right.”
As reassuring as her smile is, my heart’s been exerting more energy than Jenna’s recently. Her efforts to engage in a substantial conversation with me, or offer affection, have lost momentum. I’m always the one to steer us back on course, as I should be. I’m the man. My ultimate job in this relationship is to protect her. Protectus. Be the glue that holds us together.
Tonight isn’t any different from the arguments we’ve encountered the last couple months. Whenever I muster up a comment about her phone, she always volleys a defensive remark back instead of taking ownership. Isn’t this about give and take? There’s room for both of us to make compromises, and out of all I could request from her, I don’t think attention is some challenging feat.
Yet, my instincts dangle eerily inside me, warning me that our relationship has encountered a boulder on the road. I’m just hoping we can find an alternative route to reach the destination we originally had in mind.
Chapter 10
Olivia
My legs slow down, eyes acquainting themselves with the tinted windows of Smooth Brew. Brows drawing in, I focus on the white paper taped on the inside of the glass door.
Temporarily closed due to a pipe burst.
Sorry for the inconvenience.
-The Smooth Brew Team
“What the fuck?” I grunt under my breath, spinning on the heels of my thigh-high boots.
The brisk air crashes into me, and my palm meets my beanie before plucking my phone from my bag. I tap the Google Maps app, typing in the search engine for another coffee shop nearby.
Just my luck.
This is what I get for arriving ten minutes late to work every day. Even though I’m always the last one to leave the office, I swear karma is catching up quickly. It just won’t let it go. Thwarting my Saturday morning plans, nonetheless.
Taking myself on a date to a local café? Way too much to ask for.
To add insult to injury, on-street parking is not an option when I enter the village a few towns over. Instead, I have to curl my Rav4 behind the string of brick buildings lining the sidewalk.
My stomach pinches, warning bells ringing over my nerve-endings. The rev of the engine dissipates once I park the car, and my hand immediately reaches over the console to unlatch the glove compartment. I grab the discreet pink can, plopping it in my top-handle bag before stepping out on the blacktop.
Once my feet maneuver around, the friction of the anklet chain loosens the knot in my lower belly.
I’m safe.
Then I close the car door behind me and travel to The Grind.
With one palm clutching my plaid jacket closed, the other curls around the handle of the café entrance door. It’s an immaculate recipe of industrial and farmhouse-style vibes. Polished concrete floors under black, steel beams across the ceiling.
The barn-style order counter is located to the left. Globe pendant light fixtures dangle in the center, and bar-height counters with stools are stationed in the rear. But my favorite touch? The Tiffany blue painted benches and cabinetry throughout the space.
