Page 44 of The Uncomplicated Café
“Overnight, Chloe’s wish came true. Everything in her life falls into place like a flawless recipe. No complications. No messiness. No cause for heartache or angst. And she couldn’t be happier.At first.”
Spock mewed, as if he knew what came next.
“Exactly. Nothing perfect lasts forever, right?” CeCe crossed her legs beneath her and leaned forward with the script on her lap, relishing her role as storyteller to her enraptured audience. “One day, a hunky stranger comes into the café, and they immediately hit it off.”
Spock mewed again, only this time in annoyance.
“I know you’re not a fan of the mushy stuff, but this is where the story gets really interesting.” She lowered her voice, laying on the theatrics. “As Chloe and Justin fall in love, the spell over the café starts glitching. Things go awry. Small things, at first. But the more time she spends with Justin, the more her life returns to normal, as it was before the protective spell. I just reached the part in the script where Chloe realizes she has adecision. She’ll either choose love and break the spell forever, risking potential heartache again. Or she’ll end things with Justin, thus restoring the spell and her haven of safety within the walls of her magical café.”
Spock crawled closer and nudged the script in her lap.
CeCe laughed. “See, I knew you’d be interested in how things turn out.” She flipped back to where she’d left off, then frowned. “Wait. This can’t be right. Where’s the rest?” She turned the page only to find a blank sheet of paper stapled to the back of the script.
She scanned the white space over and over as if she could summon the words onto the page by staring hard enough. That couldn’t be the ending. There had to be more. Did Chloe choose love, with all its inherent risks, or self-preservation?
Her heart pounded, and suddenly anxious, she sprang from the couch. “It’s just a story. Afictionalstory,” she said aloud, pacing the carpet. “Maybe Jayce forgot the last page. Or maybe he wants it to be one of those movies where the viewer decides the ending for themselves?”
Ugh. She hoped not. How could she choose an ending for Chloe when she couldn’t answer the thematic question of the film for her own life?
Waslove worth the pain?
Did the good outweigh the bad?
Or was it better to remain alone?
Because, based on watching her mother all these years, love wasn’t a cure for loneliness anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Six
JAYCE
Jayce plumpedhis pillow then flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He’d never had an issue sleeping on Evan’s couch before, but tonight, he couldn’t get his brain to switch off. He’d almost kissed his best friend, a move that would have been simultaneously glorious and disastrous.
Since the start of their fake engagement charade, he’d found himself riding a bullet train of bad ideas. On some level, he knew he needed to keep his feelings in check for CeCe’s sake as well as his own. If he crossed the friendship line and things didn’t work out, he’d never forgive himself. And yet, on a level becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore, he wanted to throw every caution to the wind and give a relationship with CeCe his best shot. What if they could succeed where others hadn’t?
Restless, he flipped onto his side, gazing into the murky shadows of Evan’s sitting room slash kitchenette. A dim glow from the porch light filtered through the bamboo shades covering the front window, illuminating faint outlines. The surfboard leaning against the wall. A stack of boxes containing jars of Evan’s Epic Rash Balm that he sold online. Nadia’s fancy copper pot with a built-in strainer sat on the stove. She’d used it to make him some masala chai when he first arrived.
There was something nice, almost comforting, about the way Evan’s and Nadia’s lives blended together, the way they easily shared so many parts of themselves. He wouldn’t be surprised if his friend proposed soon. Did Evan ever have reservations about their future? Doubtful. What would it be like to experience that degree of blind assurance? Was it brave? Or foolish?
Jayce rolled onto his back, once again staring up at the ceiling. He’d better figure out the answer to that question before Friday, otherwise his script was doomed. No producer wanted to invest in a project without an ending.
A tiny stab of guilt pricked his heart for giving CeCe the script without a warning about the missing pages. But he needed her honest, gut-level reaction. He hoped that by the time she reached the blank page, she’d know exactly how she wanted the story to end. And maybe her thoughts would give him some guidance, pertaining to the scriptandreal life.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself the pleasant memory of her perfect lips—their seductive bow shape, the tempting freckle that reminded him of a cake crumb. He imagined she tasted like coconut, cinnamon, and brown sugar.
She’d given him permission to kiss her, which had momentarily thrilled him. But she’d been under duress, panicked by the pressure from the paparazzi. Not exactly a recipe for romance. But what if he’d indulged anyway? What would it feel like to finally—
A soft tap at the door dragged him away from the tempting thought.
He squinted in the dim light. It had to be close to 2:00 a.m. Who would be knocking at this time of night? Maybe he’d hallucinated the sound.
Another gentle rap debunked that theory.
He kicked off the lightweight blanket and trudged to the door.
To his surprise, CeCe stood on the other side.
Her eyes widened, traveling from his bare chest to his baggy basketball shorts hanging low on his hips, then back to his chest.
