Page 52 of Not That Impossible

He didn’t return my text that night.

I turned my phone volume up, carefully checked to make sure that notifications were enabled so I didn’t miss his reply, and fell asleep waiting.

As soon as I woke up the next morning, I fumbled at my phone screen. Nope. Still no text.

It was fine, I told myself as I dragged my exhausted butt out of bed.

Liam was a busy man on the best of days. Considering the drama of his new case, it was perfectly reasonable that he hadn’t acknowledged my text quite yet.

My first class at the gym was at eleven. After I’d been for my morning jog—a quick ten kilometres to get the blood pumping—I showered, hopped in my car, and drove to The Chipped Cup.

“Morning, Jas,” Amalie said from behind the counter. Shouted, really. She was steaming milk for the customer ahead of me, and the giant steampunk-looking machine that I’m not allowed to touch because of thatone timethe knob fell off when I was having a go, made a hell of a noise.

I’d timed my visit to land after the morning crush as people snagged a coffee on the way to work, and before the busy mid-morning period when retirees, parents, and work-from-homers came in.

The Chipped Cup wasn’t the only place in Chipping Fairford to get a coffee, but it was the best.

“What can I get you?” Amalie yelled, still steaming milk. “The usual?”

“Yes, please. To go, though. And can I have a black Americano as well?”

“Yup.” She brought a cappuccino over and popped a plastic lid on the takeaway cup. She handed it to the woman at the counter, waiting impatiently with a wary eye on the bus stop outside. The bus rolled into view and the customer bolted, clutching her huge drink. I assumed she’d paid already, as Amalie didn’t give chase.

While Amalie made the coffees, I inspected the pastry case. I was willing to bet that Liam had a sweet tooth.

I glanced up, and Amalie had her eyebrows raised, watching me.

“Treat day already is it?” she said. “Want a cookie?”

“Doughnuts, please,” I said. “A box. Wait. Are they any good?”

Amalie’s eyes widened as she set the drinks on the counter. “Excuse me? Are they anygood?”

“Yes? I mean, which would you say are the best? Yours? Or Krispy Kreme’s?”

Did I have time to zip over to the local Tesco? I knew they had a Krispy Kreme cabinet there.

“Oh, Krispy Kreme,” she said.

“Huh.”

“No, Jas. Mine are the best.Mineare. If I evenhearabout you eating Krispy Kremes, I’m going to come over to your house, and—”

I held my hands up, laughing. “Woah. Sorry. They’re not for me, I’ve never eaten a Krispy Kreme in my life and I’m not about to start. These are a present.”

“What kind of present?” she asked. “Do you want a birthday candle? We sell little single ones for cupcakes.”

“It’s not a birthday present. It’s a…sort of. Uh. It’s a Happy Wednesday present.”

“That’s sweet,” Amalie said. “Except you know it’s Tuesday, right?”

I waved a hand. “Can I have some or not?”

“Okay. Well, doughnuts are a great choice for any and all occasions. Tell your friends and colleagues. Now, which ones do you want?”

I looked at her blankly.

She took pity on me and listed them out. “Maple bar, Boston creme, good old-fashioned jam doughnut, glazed ring?”

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