Page 36 of I Love a Good Challenge

Espresso covers the floor. I’m talking about a river of dark liquid. It pours from the front of the espresso machine, sliding across the cream-colored counters, finding freedom as it trails around the register and drips onto the floor. The stream is rapidly rushing toward the front door, where I stand speechless. However this caffeine got loose, it now looks like a map of a national park.

“Lily?” I ask incredulously, looking at her in disbelief.

Her hair is disheveled, her ponytail at half-mast. With wild eyes, she turns to me, almost pleading.

“It won’t stop!” She’s yelling, her movements frantic.

First, I wonder how on earth it got to this point, and second, why can’t she just turn it off? I eye the mess before us skeptically.

“And don’t you dare tell me to just turn it off, because I’ve tried over and over again!”

Here’s to Lily still knowing what I’m thinking without having to tell her.

“Okay, well, I . . .” My words halt as I try to assess the best solution. I’m not sure whether it would be better to let the river of espresso flow out the front door or keep it inside to protect unsuspecting passersby. I opt to open the door a crack. We watch as the coffee pools at the threshold before making a tiny trail near my shoes and flowing out onto the front step.

“Be free,” I whisper, propping open the door with its stop and hustling over to a distressed Lily.

She barely even looks at me as her hands flail wildly. Melted chocolate covers her forearms.

“This is my nightmare,” she says.

Her eyes lift to mine. The look of defeat on her face makes me want to hold her in my arms. I wish I could try to help her remember that, for a brief time, I was her safe space. Whenever I’m in Lily’s presence, it’s difficult not to get lost in the memories of us or ask her why she left. I told her we couldn’t do this again, so it’s no wonder she doesn’t think I’d want to rescue her. Little does she know I would rescue her a thousand times over, no matter the cost. My loyalty to her should surprise me, but it doesn’t. She’s been mine since we met.

The coffee machine keeps grinding, the canister of beans above the espresso chamber shifting, their level lowering quickly.

“Okay, first things first.” Grabbing a bowl, I stick it under the espresso dripping from the nozzle.

“I should’ve done that!” Lily exclaims, and I try not to laugh. “I blame the amount of coffee—I think I’m buzzed from the caffeine without actually drinking it. Is that possible?”

I smile as I grab the canister of espresso beans and carefully lift it off the top of the machine. Grabbing a to-go cup, I scoop out as many beans as possible, both to save them and because, at some point, it has got to stop brewing.

Lily’s only response is an exasperated groan. “Should’ve done that too,” she confesses over the sound of the machine.

Finally, I look for the cord, ready to yank it out of the wall and end this mess. Quickly, I discover the reason Lily couldn’t unplug the machine. The cord is threaded through a hole drilled into the counter to hide it from customers. I jiggle the handle. The cabinet is locked.

I raise an eyebrow, and she shakes her head.

“Right.” She puts her hands on her hips. “If you think I’ve known this whole time where the key is and just happened to ‘forget,’ you’ve got another thing coming. I’m pretty sure Rory buried it somewhere, and I’ve never had to get into the cabinet before.”

I notice a piece of forged metal in her hair and lean in for a closer look. Yep. Just as I suspected. A bobby pin. Possibly the one I gave her from the restaurant.

Before she can yell at me, I tug it gently from the top of her hair and try not to get distracted as a few golden blonde pieces fall forward across her face. Clearing my throat, I kneel on the floor in front of the cabinet and do my best to pick the lock.

“Rory’s dad made those,” she says, pointing to the cabinet.

I can read between the lines. What she isn’t saying is that I’d best be sure I don’t break anything since they’re one of a kind and can’t be remade.

“Got it,” I grunt.

For a moment, I think I have the lock, but then I don’t. A drizzle of brewed espresso with a trace of what could’ve been perfect crema pools around my knees, staining my carefully creased trousers. I’m not even concerned about the damage to the clothes. Although I love the smell of coffee, this is my nightmare: being alone in a room with Lily, where I’m unable to do anything but pretend I’m not trying to combust from the desire to hold her again. I’d let the espresso river run a little bit longer just to pull her into my arms and hear her say, “Graham, I need you” again. Heck, she can even call me George.

After several more seconds of struggling, I finally hear a click, and the cabinet door swings open.

“Oh, thank God!” Lily exclaims before she rushes in beside me. Her movement isn’t aggressive, but the surprise of her approach is enough to knock me off balance. I feel the warmth before it registers in my brain. I’ve landed on the floor, the seat of my pants already soaked through with espresso. Thankfully, the trail to the floor cooled it down, but I feel like I’m going to smell like coffee for the rest of my life after this experience.

Lily may be right about getting buzzed from caffeine contact because I swear my eyes feel a little jittery, and my heart is racing. My reaction surely has nothing to do with the nearness of this woman who turns my world upside down in every possible way. She climbs halfway into the cabinet, reaching forward with uncharacteristic urgency.

“Got it!” She emerges. The cord is hanging from Lily’s hand, her face plastered with a triumphant grin before shifting to a look of horror. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she says, standing above me.

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