Page 30 of In a Pinch

Once I make it to the kitchen, I start a pot of coffee. It’s taken awhile, but I finally feel a little more comfortable. Now that I have a steady income, I have been scouring for the perfect apartment. The need to rush the process has left me as I become more comfortable around Cal and Isla and their disgustingly sweet love bubble.

Now, I am more worried about finding the perfect place. Preferably an apartment with a patio I can drink my coffee on. Nothing warms my soul and gets me ready for the day like sunshine and strong-ass coffee. That is the only thing missing from Isla and Cal’s: a deck or porch. Literally anything to get me outside.

I slide into the bar countertop with my fresh cup of joe and do my usual morning apartment hunt. Cal recommended I get a realtor to help me find a place, but that seems a bit excessive and aggressive when I have the world’s greatest realtor at my fingertips A.K.A. the internet.

“Good morning.” The voice coming from out of nowhere scares the bejeezus out me, causing my coffee to fly and me to almost shit my pants.

“Jesus, Cal. Make a sound or two when you come down the stairs. You about gave me a heart attack.” His laughter fills the room as I grab paper towels to clean up the coffee mess off the counter and floor.

“Well, if you weren’t awake before, you certainly are now.” Clearly, he has no remorse for his transgressions.

“Oh, I’m awake.” My hammering heartrate is a good sign of that. “Do you want a cup?” I ask.

“Sure, but put it in a thermos. I have to head to the office and get ahead on a project.” I grab a thermos from the cupboard and pour him a cup. Just black. No sugar, no cream. The first time I watched him drink coffee, I about gagged. Personally, I like a splash of coffee in my creamer.

Now that my heart is beating at a regular pace and I’ve calmed down, I see he is dressed in his work attire. His dark brown hair is perfectly styled, but I notice a bit of dark circles under his blue eyes. Poor guy has been running himself ragged.

“Do we need to check you into Workaholics Anonymous?” I ask with my eyebrows raised, while handing him his thermos of coffee.

He puts his hands up in surrender. I almost forgot that Cal has always been a bit afraid of me. I’m not sure why. But it does bring me a bit of joy to strike fear into the heart of my bestie’s future husband. It’s a good way to ensure he always takes care of her.

“No. I promise that this is my last Saturday until after the wedding. Isla threatened to beat my ass. And since I value my life, I am done with Saturdays for a hot minute. We should be wrapping up on the important stuff for this new project this week, thank God. I remember now why I hated being married to work.”

“Wise man. Happy wife, happy life.”

I turn and repour myself a cup of coffee, and hopefully the contents stay in the cup this time. “Well, have a good day. Go do whatever it is that you do.” I have known Cal for almost a year now, and I do not quite understand his job. He does, like, seven different things. He is the Chandler Bing of our friend group; only he knows what he does.

“I appreciate your dedication to not knowing my job.”

“Thank you. It takes a lot of effort to be this clueless. It’s about time I was recognized for all my efforts.” I salute him as he leaves out the garage door, chuckling.

I turn around and head back into the kitchen.

“Good morning.”

Once again, my soul leaves my body as I jump up. My coffee splashes all over the front of my T-shirt. Son of a bitch. Can’t a girl drink her coffee in peace? Lucky for me, it’s only a splash, but enough that this will need to go straight to the wash once I’m coffee’d up. Isla just chuckles and makes her way to the coffee pot.

“Geez, what is with you two? Stealthy.” Grabbing a paper towel from its holder next to the sink, I dab my shirt dry.

“Sorry, I couldn’t go back to sleep after Cal got up.” She rubs her eyes, still trying to wake up. The scowl between her eyes almost makes me laugh. This girl and mornings are not friends. “How’s your Saturday apartment hunt going?”

“Not too bad. There were two that checked most of my boxes. They both have open houses today. I thought about running by here in a little bit to check them out.” I turn back toward her from the sink and rest my hip against the counter.

“You want some company?” she asks.

“Well, that’s a dumb question. They start showing at eight. So, I was going to finish up breakfast and then head out.”“Sounds good. Are you going to go to cooking class on Monday?”

“I think I might have to miss this one, but I will for sure be at the last one. My boss has a million things on the schedule for Monday.”

Nerves enter my stomach when I think about having to see Sam again. I’m not sure if I’m more embarrassed by the way I ran out of there with my tail between my legs, or the fact that I started to let him in. In my defense, the man put on a good act. He was clearly trying to make me feel better after a shit day, and even cooked me dinner, which is nice. What’s a girl to do when a man who looks like him does things like that? Was it an act? Ugh, I don’t even know anymore.

Isla has no idea what has happened with Sam. I mean, I barely know what has happened. But it felt like there could be something between us. Chemistry, or a spark, maybe? But that was before I realized that I might not be the only one he’s bringing back to Flambé for after-hour meals, based on the way that girl clearly knew where to find him and wasn’t happy seeing him with me.

And now, I’ve decided to avoid Sam like the plague. After what Isla had told me about him, I didn’t listen, and as it turns out, she was right. It’s not like it was anything. I thought we were flirting, which we probably were. But it appears he flirts with everyone, and I’ve already been there, done that, and got the T-shirt. I have a strict rule of no more assholes.

“No, worries at all, babe! Liv mentioned Tyler has had to work more lately, too. But that overtime will be great. We can go out with a bang on the last one together. I have gotten a lot better, and successfully made dinner without burning it all week.” She beams at me with pride and I’m glad at least one of us got something good out of that class.

“I noticed, and it didn’t taste like hot garbage! I am so proud.” I give her a pat on the back for a job well done.

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