Page 16 of Storm in a Teacup
I nudge her with my elbow. “Aye. Hooray for us.”
“And now that the café is empty, I can yell at you.” She smacks me hard on the arm.
“Ow,” I emphasize, rubbing the spot where she hit me.
“Where did you go last night?”
“Home?”
“Why?”
“Because I had to get here at 5 a.m. to bake shit.”
Her hands perch on her hips. “It had nothing to do with David?”
“David who?”
Her eyes are flames. “Bog off.”
I hang my head. “Fine, I know David who.”
She tsks, picking at crumbs on the counter. “I don’t understand what happened. Would you just tell me what the hell your disagreement was about?”
Disagreement. That’s what David called it, so that’s the term I too picked up. “Nothing. It was nothing. Sometimes people grow apart. It happens.”
“Actively avoiding is not the same as growing apart, Bennett.”
“Well, not minding your business can lead to avoiding, Islington. I’d watch it if I were you.”
She sighs, resigned, and starts to fiddle with the espressomachine.
Same as with Rachel, this is not the first time Isla has broached this subject. Far from it. She brings it up nearly every time we see each other. I know it’s coming from a place of concern, but it’s bloody annoying.
One would likely think: Well, just tell her. She’ll understand. And to that I say a resoundingno.Will she? Sure. Will that save my humiliation about the whole damn situation? Fuck no. So, as a result, I will be keeping this to myself until I can confidently say that I am over him. Heh.
Considering our discussion complete, I aim for the hallway to return to the safe haven that is my kitchen when the over-the-door bell jingles. A ginger head enters the space. I smile upon seeing who that head belongs to. Linny.
She looks to Isla first and says, “Hey. Been pretty busy today, huh?”
“Extraordinarily. Sending customers your way, perhaps?”
She hums in confirmation. “Mainly browsers, but a few ‘oh, that’s cool’ buyers. So that’s something. Sold a few of the picture frames Carolyn’s been hoarding.”
“Good. I’m a personal fan of those picture frames, if you couldn’t tell by my wall decor.” She taps the tablet on the counter. “What can I get you?”
“An americano, please.”
“Great. That’ll be—”
I cut her off, “No, no. Coffee’s on me. I promised.”
Linny appears surprised to see me. “Looming in the shadows, aren’t you? But no, I will be paying for my coffee.”
“I am a professional loom-er. And no, you will not.”
“I’d like to support your business.”
“One free americano is not going to break us.”
