Page 33 of Ablaze

“You want me to meet him, pretend I like him, and play nice? Fine, I will. I’ll do all those things. You know why? Because I’d do anything for you, Mala. Anything. But . . .” I give her a hard look, “he gets one, only one, chance to fuck this up. And when he does, I’ll tear him limb for fucking limb.”

Leaving her with her mouth agape behind me, I close the door and clumsily amble down the stairs.

I barely even register my fingers moving as I type out a message. The only thing I can focus on is the ire laced with melancholy thrumming through my bloodstream.

I can’t make heads or tails of any of it, but at the edges of that anger is a feeling of mourning, as if I’ve lost something monumental, but I can’t name what or why.

All I want is for this feeling to disappear, for it to stop.

Even if it’s just for a night.

So, without further thought into the fact that I haven’t sent a message like this to anyone in God knows how long, I hit Send.

Me: So about that magic tongue of yours . . . Send me your address.

Chapter Ten

MALA

“Mind if I take off for half the day tomorrow?” Max turns over his shoulder from his spot at the sink, where he’s washing some steel frothing pitchers. “Blaire has her first sonogram tomorrow, and I want to make sure I’m there for her.”

I nod as enthusiastically as possible, trying to quell my anxiety. “Sure, no problem.”

Max handed in his notice earlier this week, telling me he accepted a higher-paying job with the water-treatment facility in town that will also offer him and his girlfriend better healthcare benefits. While I know he needs to be there for her during such a crucial and exciting day tomorrow, it’s also the start of our busy spring season, and I’m stressed all around.

I’ve put up a few We’re Hiring ads, but I haven’t had much luck in terms of finding anyone with experience as a barista and someone who likes animals enough to clean up after them.

I take the cup of coffee Mrs. Carver ordered off the bar, along with an apple-ginger dog treat we just baked a few batches of yesterday, and stroll through the back door to deliver them to her. She’s an elderly lady of about eighty, who has been a regular at the café with her shih tzu, Gigi.

“Oh, you are such a dear.” She smiles, making the heavy wrinkles around her eyes and mouth crinkle gently. She picks up the dog biscuit and offers it to Gigi, who happily gobbles it down. With a leash around her neck, the dog looks up at me with her tongue hanging out from her spot on the ground next to Mrs. Carver’s chair. Soon enough though, she sniffs the air and her attention is diverted toward the black lab on the other side of the yard.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, smiling at the both of them before I notice Mrs. Carver tug her coat around her again. It might be April, but the temperature in Tahoe is known to fluctuate during the month and can sometimes get pretty darn chilly, like today. “Want me to turn on the heat lamp for you, Mrs. Carver?” I ask her, tilting my head toward one of the lamps behind her.

She waves in a don’t-fuss gesture after taking a sip of her mocha latte. “We’re about to walk back home in a few minutes, anyway. I just love coming here and letting Gigi mingle and play with the other dogs. It’s quite a unique café you’ve created here, Mala.”

I bend down to scratch Gigi under her chin. “Thank you. I’m glad to see you both.”

Leaving them to enjoy their afternoon, I saunter back toward the café, pulling out my phone from inside my shorts to check my messages.

Though I still get raised brows from out-of-towners when they regard my attire of shorts and a sweatshirt, I no longer receive the same quizzical looks from locals. They seem to have accepted me for the slightly eccentric woman I am.

There’s a message from Malcolm in response to my previous message in the group chat I have with him, Rohan, Samantha, and Dean, asking if everyone was still on for movie madness at my place tomorrow night. It’s a ritual we started a few months ago, where we get together once a month at one of our homes and watch a classic movie together. This month’s movie night is at my house.

Malcolm: I’m in. Which movie?

I pull my bottom lip under my teeth, holding back a grin while typing out my response.

Me: Titanic.

Samantha: I’ll be there.

A few seconds later, I get the response I was expecting that has me chuckling.

Malcolm: Oh, fuck no. I’m out.

I open the door to get back into the café before typing out another message.

Me: Stop it, you big faker. You’ve probably seen it a hundred times already. I saw you watching My Girl on your laptop that one day I visited the station.

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