Page 28 of Vows in Sin
“I can’t talk. I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone before I drown.
I won’t be calling her.
11
Seraphina
The two things I am not allowing myself to obsess over are the two things that are taking up all my emotional energy.
Him.
And my non-existent career.
Two days have passed since the interview. Josie has not called, emailed or texted. I have had another call from mom. I let it go to voicemail. I did listen to the guilt-ridden message at least.
She wants to know why I didn’t call her back.
The only positive change in my declining mental health is that Dame has been surprisingly absent from my other obsessions. It seems he’s fallen off the cliff in the back of my mind. I’m prepared for a jump scare should he return to my thoughts.
I may not be strong enough to call Mom right now, but thinking of her makes me remember what she taught me.
‘No matter how broke you are or how bad things get, you can afford a cup of regular old black coffee at your favorite coffee shop. Throw on a brightly colored dress and a smile and head out the door. It’ll always improve your mood. You have a Mom guarantee on that!’
One of the few things she was right about.
Instead of spending another minute in my apartment, lost in depressing thoughts, I grab a crumpled five-dollar bill I found at the bottom of an old purse, put on a hot-pink dress, and prance down to my favorite café.
It’s a short walk from my apartment. I’m one block in and my mind is clearing. The sun warms my skin, and a light breeze ruffles the hem of my dress. The adorable red and white striped awning comes into view, the quirky font on the sign reading,A Little Mug of Heaven.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee hits me as a kind man holds the bright red front door open for me. “Thank you so much!” I breeze into the shop, inhaling the smell that’s as familiar to me as my perfume. The hiss of the steamer, the whir of the bean grinder, the friendly call of names as favorite drinks are delivered to happy customers.
I pop into the line as a pretty blonde barista holds up a white mug. She smiles at the group of people hovering by the counter. “Renan?”
It’s a big city. There could be many Renans. Hundreds. Thousands.
I watch in slow motion, my heart rising to my throat as that big, familiar hand reaches out for the mug. I know that hand. The back of those shoulders. The ass in those jeans.
Mom never mentioned the older man who makes your body hum and tummy flutter being a part of the coffee shop stop. My heart moves higher, beating hard in my eardrums, the rushing blood heating my face. God, I wish there was someone here to tell me what to do right now.
Gut says;
Turn. And. Run.
But I’m stuck like a baby deer in headlights, watching him turn towards the door. He sees me. Immediately. Time stops. The hipster music in the background fades. Everyone melts into the eclectically decorated walls.
It’s just us. Our eyes locked. Neither one of us breathing.
I’m in a daze as he approaches me. He greets me with the lightest brush of a kiss on my cheek. “Go sit down. I’ll get your order.”
“Coffee,” I say. “Black, please.”
He nods, going to order, but stops. He turns back to me. “I don’t think I know your name.”
We smile, a secret joke passing between us. After what we did…
“Seraphina,” I say.
“Pretty.” He leaves me, heading for the back of the line. I drift over to an open two-top by the window. And wait.
