Page 26 of Fault Lines
Nate grinned, dipping his voice like it was a secret. “We dabble. No menu, so it all stays under the radar. Less paperwork; that’s my philosophy.”
I laughed, though I half-hoped there wasn’t a health inspector lurking nearby. “I’m not great with specialty drinks,” I warned him. “I can work a regular coffee pot, but that’s about it.”
He waved it off. “You don’t have to be fancy. Pops is the real coffee snob. I’ll show you the basics. Come on.”
Past the kitchen, the storeroom was stacked wall to wall with boxes. Coffee supplies crowded the front part, and further back, books in every shape and style were squeezed onto shelves or in cartons.
He pointed it out. “The boxes go up alphabetically by author. If somebody calls and needs something pulled, it makes it simple. Most of our stuff ends up on the shelf, but if we think something will be big, we order extras and hide them back here.”
I surveyed the rows: “Seems like you have a lot of big sellers.”
He smirked. “Sometimes Pops bets wrong. If stuff lingers, he donates it to the library or schools.”
“That’s… really nice.”
Nate’s shrug was easy. “That’s just Pops. Anyway…” He led me back up front. “Cash register time. I’ll walk you through it.”
The next few hours were a blur of learning, but in a way that left me content for the first time in forever. I liked ringing up customers, shelving books, breathing in that mix of coffee and paper and sunlight through plate glass. By lunch, Nate haddisappeared to restock and I was manning the counter alone, confident and even a little proud.
It felt good, having something that was just mine.
My phone buzzed as I slid a book into a bag for a customer.
“Have a nice day!” I called after them, turning to check my screen.
Want to meet me for lunch?
I stared, blinking in surprise. Lunch. With Cam. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked me out, not since everything changed. We’d spent the weekend together—the house, the city, pretending for a while that we were normal—but this was different. This was almost old times.
“Need a break?” Nate appeared silently, not startling me so much as making me self-conscious.
“Oh—I’m good, really.”
He cut me off before I could finish, waving the concern away. “Didn’t realize it was lunchtime. I’m not trying to work you to death. Take an hour, be back at one, and we’ll get your paperwork finished up.”
He made it sound so easy, like everything in the world was simple if you just said it outright.
I slipped out into the sunlight, responding quickly to Cam, picking a spot nearby for lunch. I didn’t want him to know about the job yet—not because I thought he’d be mad, but because I wanted it for myself. Just for a little while. My own thing, my own secret. There wasn’t much I could control, but this… this was mine.
Cam got to the cafe before me, already at an outdoor table. He smiled as I arrived.
“That was fast,” he noted. “Did you Uber?”
I shook my head, careful. “I was just in the neighborhood, running errands.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Good. I’d rather you not be home moping.”
I bristled. As if I was the one at fault, as if he hadn’t set this chain of events in motion. I almost told him right then. But I stopped, holding the secret close.
“I already ordered. Got your favorite.” He reached for the lemonade as it arrived. “Hope that’s okay.”
“It is.” I sipped, relishing the cold tartness. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done this.”
He was silent a moment, then cleared his throat. “I want things to get better. I’m trying, Livi.”
I watched him, wary. Across the table, the waitress delivered our sandwiches and chips, efficient and blessedly uninterested in flirting.
“It shouldn’t have to be an effort,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him.
