Page 67 of The One That I Want

‘Right, a plan of action,’ I mutter to myself. Now knowing how to address my managerial misstep, I recommence the mindless scroll on my phone as I shuffle forward.

I’m watching a video of a cat who lives on a boat as I reach the head of the queue and when I look up to place my order, Ewan is there. Behind the counter. Wearing a forest-green apron with ‘The Daily Grind’ embroidered across the top.

My mouth falls open as my mind tries to interpret what I’m seeing.

‘The usual?’ he asks, flashing his signature lopsided smile.

‘Er, yes –please,’ I add as an afterthought.

He punches something into the register and when I hold my phone to the card reader to pay, I see ‘0.00’ on the screen. I look up at Ewan, even more confused.

‘On me,’ he says with a wink.

‘Oh, okay.’

This is the part where I’m supposed to step aside and let the next person order, but I’m rooted to the spot as if I’m in a horror movie and I’ve just spotted the scary man with the axe.

‘Why don’t you find a place to sit, and I’ll bring it over,’ Ewan prompts.

I nod and wander off, coming out of my stupor as I realise most people in the queue must have been getting takeaway. Nearly all the tables are free. I head to my favourite one, far from the caffeine fray, and sit facing the rest of the coffee shop.

That really is Ewan, and he really is serving behind the counter of The Daily Grind.

As I’m watching him, he switches places with one of the young men who works here and takes off his apron. He hovers near the espresso machine and when the barista pops the lid on a cup, he takes it from them, and heads towards me.

‘Think, Greta. What are you going to say?’ I ask myself out loud.

Ewan’s eyes light up as he approaches, and I beam back at him.

‘Good morning,’ he says with a bright smile. He places my coffee on the table and slides into the chair opposite me.

‘Good morning, Mr Coffee Man,’ I say, immediately regretting it. Mr Coffee Man – what amuppet! You wouldn’t know I make a living as a wordsmith.

Ewan chuckles good-naturedly and dips his chin, maintaining eye contact. ‘I was going to tell you the night we had dinner, but then the conversation moved on and it never really came up again. Then I worried I’d left it too long and… well… Ta-da! I own The Daily Grind,’ he says, his arms out wide.

Well, that explains why I didn’t know sooner. And Ewan’s positively radiating pride, as he should be, only the pride is underpinned with something else: an uncertainty in his eyes.

‘It’s totally fine – just unexpected is all. You’re obviously making a success of it – there’s a line out the door!’ I say, hoping to make at least a dent in that uncertainty.

He chuckles and looks over his shoulder, then returns his gaze to me. ‘My first time behind the counter today…’ he says, shaking his head.

‘Well, you did brilliantly. Although, please tell me you’re not giving away free coffee to everyone.’

‘Oh, no, only to people I like,’ he says, imbuing the word ‘like’ with more meaning than I can unpack right now. I return the comment with a smile.

‘So, what are you doing when you’re not back there?’ I say, indicating the counter.

‘I spend most of the day in the office.’ He nods towards a door tucked at the back of the coffee shop that, somehow, I’ve never noticed before. ‘But there’s no natural light in there, so I prefer working out here – especially when people I know come in.’

‘And why a coffee shop?’

He bites his top lip and sucks in a breath through his teeth. ‘If I tell you, will you promise not to tell a soul?’

‘Of course I won’t,’ I say, suddenly serious.

He leans in and I do the same. After glancing left, then right, he says, ‘I’m actually an MI6 agent and The Daily Grind is a front.’

I tut and sit back in my chair, pretending to glare at him. ‘You had me going then.’

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