Page 13 of The Layover

“What do you want to see?” Lee asked. She pulled her braid out and her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face.

I was captivated. “Old buildings. The more the better.”

Her grin was back. “My kind of answer. I’ve got the perfect place for breakfast.”

Someone should warn her. “Keep in mind, Raul’s a bit of a food snob.”

“I’m not a snob. I am a chef, and I know when someone is cutting corners.”

“You cook?” Lee looked impressed. “That’s such a coincidence.”

“You like to cook?” Raul asked.

“Not so much. But I love to eat.”

I chuckled. This was going to be fun.

Lee grabbed her luggage and stepped into another room to dress, which was reasonable but also disappointing. We dressed while she was gone.

When she emerged she was wearing a loose blouse that was thin enough to hint at what was underneath, and a wrap-around skirt that flowed loosely and hung down to her ankles. It was deceptively chaste.

Raul stepped up next to her and offered his arm. “Shall we be off?”

She hooked her hand through the crook of his elbow. To anyone not in the know, they looked like the perfect couple. Beautiful plus handsome, dressed for a casual but still classy day on the town.

I allowed myself to admire them for a moment. In another time and another place, would we consider seeing if she clicked with us? Seeing if she fit into our life? Eloise’s?

That was a dangerous path to follow, especially with a stranger who clashed with Raul as much as not, who didn’t know our real names, and who was coming back here to another country when her trip was over.

We checked out, and Lee called us an Uber to take us to what she described as the perfect breakfast place for us.

I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but when we arrived, a bit of a clue started to dawn on me. The street the car dropped us off on was lined with older brick buildings about two to four stories tall. The wet streets glistened in the lights and morning rain, and around us, people rushed with their heads down toward whatever their destination was.

“Our destination.” Lee gestured toward a glass and aluminum door with the word bakery frosted on it in a simple font.

It didn’t look like much from the outside, but in my experience those could be the best places.

We stepped into an entirely different world inside. The first thing that was obvious was the smell—heavenly sweet and savory tinged with coffee.

But I lost track of the scent when I saw the architecture and design. Exposed beams. Stunning stonework. Hardwood that shone, despite the dozens of feet relentlessly hammering it with their existence. “It’s beautiful.” I could pick apart the details for days. I needed pictures, and could already see this place influencing some of my design decisions.

The line serpentined several times around a series of stanchions—always a good sign. We took a spot at the end, and were processed through more quickly than I expected.

When we reached the front of the line, none of us could decide on just one thing to try, so we ordered one each of half a dozen different pasties. I insisted on getting the bill, despite Lee’s protests.

“You paid the room tab,” I reminded her.

“The room was comped, because of the tub.”

Perfect. That meant no guilt over her picking up the bill. I handed the cashier my card, plucked Lee’s from her hand and slipped it into the front pocket of her purse.

Lee’s mouth twisted as she extracted her card and put it back in her wallet just as mine was returned to me. She huffed, but amusement danced in her eyes.

A short while later, we made our way to a just-vacated and cleaned table, a corner booth in the back of the cafe.

Raul slid in on one side of Lee, and I sat on the other.

She laughed and shook her head. “Is this to keep me from running away?”

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