Page 46 of How to Break My Heart 1
“So, let’s get straight into it, shall we?” I pull out my notebook, filled with yellow Post-its from all the note-taking I did with Maddy. “I’ve made a list of all the things we need to get done for the wedding day, as well as a few events leading up to it. Now, I’ve broken it down by—”
“You look good today,” Aston interrupts, his gaze locked on me. “Glowing, in fact.”
My eyes fall to the open pages of my notebook as I swallow the lump caught in my throat. “I have no idea what you mean, but thank you, I guess.”
“You must have had a good sleep,” he remarks, his tone dripping with smugness.
This time, I glance up only to see his raised brow and cocky smile. “Actually, it was pretty shitty. Do you want coffee or something to eat? I could probably use another coffee.”
Aston leans back into his chair, looking way too relaxed. “Coffee sounds great.”
“How do you take it?” I ask, sliding my chair back to leave the table. It’s only been two minutes in his presence, and I need a break. “The coffee, I mean.”
“I knew you meant coffee. But it appears your mind is elsewhere.” Again, with a smug expression.
This is painful.
I wait with annoyance, only for him to say, “Tall Americano, three sugars.”
“Three sugars?” I question with my hands on my hips. “Do you want to die young?”
“I didn’t get much sleep, much like yourself,” he admits.
I would have thought he slept like a baby after working so hard at making my life hell, but something else must be weighing on his mind. My mouth opens out of curiosity, only to close a moment later.
Less is more.
Don’t ask questions.
Strictly wedding talk.
Quickly, I excuse myself to make us coffee. Billie is busy taking orders on the other side, which is a good thing since I’m pretty sure she will interrogate me once this is over.
The coffee machine begins grinding the beans, I place the ground coffee into the portafilter, distribute it evenly, and then slide it back into the main machine to begin tamping. My hands reach over for a cup, moving it underneath. When both cups are complete, I return to the table, placing Aston’s before him.
“So, this is your place, huh?” He scans the café, including Billie, who is behind the counter pretending not to be stalking us. “Nice.”
If there is one thing I’m proud of achieving, it’s Donuts Ever After. Everything in here was thought-out, from the woodland-green colored wall filled with artwork showing different types of donuts painted by a local artist to the exposed brick wall with a pink neon sign hanging that reads In My Donut Era.
The booths have a diner-style feel, but my favorites are the small provincial oak round tables I ended up pairing with Hamptons-inspired chairs, a mix of all the things I love. The ceramic vases in the middle of each table mimic a stack of books with artificial purple zinnias sitting inside them.
“Yes, it’s mine.” My lips press into a fine line. “I’ll also take yourniceas a compliment even though I’m sure you’re thinking this place is too cutesy for your liking.”
“I never said that.”
“You’re a guy, a city guy. I bet you drink your coffee from some overpriced coffee shop on Wall Street claiming to have the best blend in the country.”
“Actually, you’re right.” He brings the edge of the cup to his mouth, drawing my attention to his alluring lips. My eyes dart across the room in a panic, only to see Billie with her I-told-you-so face. “Though, this tastes amazing.”
“Okay, stop being nice to me. It’s weird,” I complain. “Can I go through my list now?”
He nods with a scoff. “Go ahead.”
I made the list simple so Aston’s tasks are easy. After I mention what needs to be done, I wait for his response.
“So, all you need me to do is ensure all the men turn up to the suit fitting, organize the bachelor party, then show up at the wedding?”
“Pretty much. Do you think you can handle that?”
