Page 48 of Coffee Break with the Billionaire

The car clicks as the engine cools. A cold breeze rustles the leaves on the ground and those remaining on the branches above. It’s dark, deserted, and might be slightly spooky if Silas hadn’t grabbed my hand as I was about to walk across the road without checking.

“Look both ways,” he warns. “Cars do come along here.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Silas’s hands are large and weathered, with long fingers and neatly clipped nails. I can’t help but think of how I used to marvel at Tiger’s hands, with his calluses from playing guitar and his black-painted nails. They were the hands of a boy playing at being a rock star.

Silas doesn’t have to play at anything. He’s a man; a good man.

Still holding my hand, Silas leads me across the road and along the path to the bench. The wind is stronger, blowing off the ocean, and colder. I shiver into my pink puffer jacket—warmer than the one I wore last night, but not nearly enough protection.

“Do you have a blanket in the car?” Silas asks.

“I have nothing in the car.”

He holds out his hand. “Keys. I’ll check the trunk. Keep away from the edge,” he warns as he takes the keys from me and heads back to the car.

I stop at the bench in the middle of nowhere and look out to the water. Waves crash incessantly with an almost hypnotic rhythm.

There are whales out there. Icebergs. Boats, like Coy in his fishing trawler.

I can’t see a thing in the dark except the odd whitecap breaking over the water.

It’s not until I sit down that I look up.

“Wow,” I breathe.

Pinpricks of light dot the sky, which is a rainbow of shades of mauve and purple reaching to the indigo straight above me. I tilt my head back and take it all in.

“A lot of stars,” Silas says from behind me.

“Uh-huh. Beautiful.”

“Uh-huh.” He clears his throat. “I found this.” He has a wool blanket in his hands. “Coy left his emergency pack inthe trunk.”

“That was nice of him. How did you know there’d be something there?” I ask as Silas drops the blanket on my lap.

“Around here, everyone has something in their trunk.” He joins me on the bench, the heat of his body making my right side toasty warm.

“Do you think we’ll see more shooting stars?”

“Maybe.” He clears his throat and moves just a little closer, so his thigh rests against mine. “But the Draconid meteor shower is due to start in a week or so.”

“Meteors? Aren’t they what crash into the oceans and cause giant tidal waves that destroy the world?”

“Big ones, sure, but I like to hope that’s only going to happen in the movies.”

I point to the water. “Because if it was real, then Laandia would be gone.”

“Probably. And I like it here.”

“So do I.”

And I do. In the last two days, Battle Harbour has gone from a boring little town where Gunnar lives and not much happens, to a place where I like to spend time.

I’m enjoying myself here, not simply hiding out and planning my next move, and hoping time flies by.

I don’t remember the last time I justsat. Not talking, not looking at my phone, just being still. I can’t even meditate when I’m home, so this should be painful for me.

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