Page 23 of Estranged Heart
“He did say tables were for chatting and catching up, didn’t he? I’m curious to find out if you’ve started your new book or not.”
“I guess staying for a little while won’t hurt, and while I’m at it I’ll have you taste my drink first. Just in case your friend added an extra ingredient to my lemonade,” I say, low enough for only him to hear me. Laughing, he walks a little ahead of me, taking the first seat. “Don’t worry. AJ might not be much of a people person but I can promise you, your drink is just fine.”
As far as he knows. Lowering myself into the chair across from him, I set down my drink and danish. “Exactly how often do you come here?”
Shrugging, he opens his bag and pulls out his lemon bar. “Enough for everyone to know my name and for me to have the menu memorized.”
“How long has this place been around?” I shove a straw in my drink, tempted to take a peek under the lid but not wanting to risk showing Elijah my overparanoid side so soon. Wait . . . Do I think we’re going to be long-lasting friends or something? What do I care what he thinks of me? I barely know the guy. Why doesn’t he feel like a stranger? Too thirsty to care anymore, I take the first sip. Tastes like homemade lemonade. Cold and refreshing.
“A while, but it closed down for a short time when the new owners bought it out. They might be a little odd and not as sweet as the woman who ran the place before, but the desserts are still amazing. Maybe even more so than before.”
As soon as I take a bite of my danish, the strawberry and cheese practically melt in my mouth, the fresh taste exploding on my tongue. This is the best damn thing I’ve ever tasted. Elijah laughs as I go back for more, biting a little too much this time with a little strawberry sauce spilling from my lips.
He hands me a napkin, hiding his smile behind his hand. “I take it you’re in agreement with me?”
Swallowing my last bite, I snatch the napkin from his hand and swipe my tongue over my lips before wiping the remaining food from my face. “I’ll be coming back for sure. I’m stumbling upon a lot of great places lately.” Why does him being here feel like a bonus? It really is weird that I keep ending up in places he’s at. The first time we met, he came to me, and now I can’t stop coming to him.
Continuously questioning everything is getting exhausting, while letting go and enjoying his company has made me more relaxed than I’ve been at home. Talking to him comes easy and for once no one’s asking me if I’m feeling okay. It’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
“So, why flowers?” he asks, rolling his straw between his fingers.
“Because they’re pretty. Why wine and books?”
“I feel like they go very well together and I love both.”
“Being surrounded by books every day does sound like a dream come true. I’m a little jealous, honestly.” I’m one of those people who dreamed of having aBeauty and the Beastlibrary like Belle.Stacey said we didn’t have the space when I suggested we add more bookshelves in the living room, so I stopped buying physical books and got a Kindle.
“Feel free to come by anytime you feel like being surrounded.” Why don’t I want him to only be talking about books?
“Careful. You might regret saying that so soon.”
He chuckles and takes a bite of his dessert before talking again, a dust of sugar coating his lips. “You going to tell me the real reason you chose to work with flowers?” I watch his tongue a little too closely.
“What makes you think I chose it?”
He scoffs. “I recognized the passion and pride in your eyes when you flipped through those photos of arrangements you put together. My husband used to say I had more love in my eyes for my books than for him.” He chuckles again and his eyes grow a little cloudy. He loves talking about Landon but it also hurts him.
“You’re right. I’ve loved being around flowers since I was a kid. My mom had a rose garden and kept fresh sunflowers in our kitchen. They brighten up the darkest places and can easily cheer someone up by just being there.” They’re a lot like him. He’s hurting but doesn’t want to be known for it. Giving small glimpses of his grief, he also stays cheerful and full of life. His smiles and laughter are contagious and it feels wonderful to be infected by him.
“A lot like books,” he says pointedly. “The right one can turn your whole week around.”
“Yeah, and also make you want to go back to that world.”
“That’s the good thing about reading. You can return anytime you want.” His smile is back and brightens up the whole bakery. I want to keep talking about his favorite things to keep him this way—to keep the lights on inside. They’re a good change from the darkness I’ve been trapped in when I’m at home alone. “Speaking of which, have you had a chance to read your new books yet?”
“I have, and shamefully must admit to skipping to the happy. I was having a rough day and really needed it.”
“I’m glad you had it available to you then. I think I could go without reading a sad book for the rest of the year. Movies too.”
“For me it depends.” Grabbing my used napkin, I fumble with it on the table. “Sometimes I need to see someone else going through the same struggles as me so I can feel seen and valid.”
“Makes sense.” He studies my hands and my fingers get ahead of my brain, forming the napkin into a shape resembling a bird.
His breaths stutter and he scoots back in his chair. Face paling, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost. “You make origami.”
Staring down at my work, I shrug. “I guess so. Must have seen it in a book or on TV.” Not remembering much from the last time I almost died, it could’ve been something I learned from all the do it yourself and craft videos I watched on social media. My boredom had led me toward all kinds of strange new hobbies. Some I won’t miss or care to pick up again. Not when I can go outside for walks, drive to bookstores, and swim in the lake.
A loud buzzing noise has him reaching into his pocket. “Shit. Trouble in paradise.”
