Page 97 of The Ballad of Us
As we head back toward her apartment, Duke trotting contentedly beside us, I reflect on how this day began with what felt like an impossible choice and ended with what feels like the un-freaking-believable beginning.
My journey has taught me that the right path isn't always the easiest one, but it's usually the one that leads toward love, rather than away from it.
Today, I chose love.
And love chose me back.
Thirty-One
RHEA
The first sign of change comes on a Tuesday at Mountain Mornings. As I step from my car into the crisp February air, snow crunches under my feet. Out-of-state plates line Main Street, a normal sight in tourist season, but unusual for mid-February. The scent of coffee and pine drifts as I approach the shop.
The second sign is the young woman with the perfectly curated Instagram aesthetic standing outside the coffee shop, taking photos of our hand-painted sign while her boyfriend holds professional photography equipment.
“Excuse me!” she calls, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Is this really where Gray Garrison gets his coffee every morning?”
I pause, keys halfway to the lock, heart pounding as surprise mixes with a sudden spike of anxiety. My previously private mornings with Gray now feel exposed, a wave of unease washing over me. How did she know about Gray's routine? Our sanctuary now seems uncomfortably public, as if we’ve landed on a celebrity map. Behind my composure, nervous questions are stacking up.
How did she find us, and what could this attention mean for the life we worked so hard to create for ourselves? Fear for our privacy clashes with curiosity. “We serve coffee to lots of people,” I reply, keeping my expression neutral but my mind racing.
“But he does come here, right? I mean, this has to be the place. The song mentions a coffee shop girl, and you totally look like you could be her. Also, my friend Francis found a TikTok video where he was filmed walking out of here with a travel mug. It's just that, for us, his music has been a constant presence during tough times. When we listen to it, it's like he gets it, you know? The idea of being in the same place that inspired him is just... wow.”
TikTok. Of course. In our naïve assumption that a small mountain village will provide natural privacy protection, we've forgotten that everyone carries a recording device in their pocket these days.
“I'll have the shop open in just a few minutes,” I tell her, choosing discretion over confirmation.
Inside, I immediately texted Gray.
Rhea: Heads up. We might have a situation.
His response came back instantly.
Gray: What kind of situation?
Rhea: The kind where people drive for hours to see where you buy coffee.
Gray: Shit. I'll be right there.
By the time Emma arrives thirty minutes later, the line outside Mountain Mornings stretches halfway down the block. The Instagram girl has been joined by a college-aged couple with matching Case in Point t-shirts, an older woman with a professional camera, and an entire family who's driven down from Tennessee based on their license plate.
“What fresh hell is this?” Emma mutters, sweeping the crowd with the weary expression of a woman who signed up to make coffee, not manage a tourist attraction.
“A nice, friendly tourist videoed Gray leaving here and put it on TikTok,” I explain, tying my apron with hands that were only slightly shaking.
“And people think they can find him here?”
“Social media is a hell of a drug.” It’s the only thing I can think to say in this odd situation.
Emma studies the eager faces pressed against our windows and sighs. “Well, I guess we're about to learn how to handle fame by association. Any of them look dangerous?”
I scan the crowd. They seem more star-struck than dangerous. We need ground rules and fast.
What follows is the strangest morning of my professional life. Each customer who enters asks a variation of the same questions.
Was Gray Garrison really a regular?
Could they sit at his usual table?
