by Hettie Ivers
Too tired to even muster up a what-the-fuck expression, I’d simply stared at him with my resting bitch face, silently willing him to explain himself. I hadn’t heard from my mom since Wednesday night, and her phone still wasn’t accepting messages. I’d taken off work for the weekend for a trip to Seattle that I had planned weeks ago to visit my friend Abbie. But I’d ended up spending my two days off holed up in my bedroom trying to block out dead spirits instead. As if the nightmares, puppy mutilation visions, and seer dreams weren’t enough, it seemed that every ghost on campus had relocated to my dormitory building in the past forty-eight hours. I was exhausted and in no mood for chitchat with anyone today, alive or dead.
Jeff had proceeded to explain that he’d received a parcel in the mail from my dear loony mother on Saturday: a box containing another box containing another box that contained a brown paper-wrapped package for me—hence, the Russian doll analogy. What’s more, she’d sent him a handwritten note along with it, saying I’d spoken very highly of him to her. The note went on to thank him for being “an important male friend and coffee shop manager” to her daughter, and asked him to kindly hand-deliver her package to me.
Annnd now Jeff thought I was in love with him. Naturally.
Several times in the past few hours he’d complimented me on my outfit—an outfit that, belatedly, I’d realized was highly impractical, given today’s weather forecast that I hadn’t bothered checking before leaving my dorm. Gary, the owner of The Screamin’ Beans, didn’t enforce any sort of dress code. He probably wouldn’t have cared if I’d worked in pajama bottoms. But making an effort to dress up in the gloomy dead of winter, just when everyone else was reaching new heights of letting themselves go and falling prey to the doldrums, usually helped motivate and center me and stave off seasonal affective disorder.
Usually. At present, I simply felt like an asshat for wearing a short, tight wool skirt and knee-high leather heeled boots when there was a severe hail warning in effect for this afternoon.
“Tourists incoming,” Jeff said under his breath—which fanned my earlobe, he’d come to stand so close to me—as a young, well-dressed man and woman crossed the street hand in hand directly outside our glass shopfront. “I know out-of-towners in need of caffeine when I see ’em. It’s a special barista superpower of mine,” he joke-boasted, then cracked up at his own lame humor. He’d been doing that all morning, emboldened as he now was by my mother’s stupid note.
I was moments away from delivering an ego-checking lecture to Jeff about staying out of my personal space, when the couple entered the shop. The man held the door open for the petite brunette he was with before following through closely behind her. And that’s when I got a good look at him.
“Ho-ly hotness.” I hadn’t meant to murmur it aloud, but the guy was a walking Latin Adonis with his chiseled features, dark brown eyes and hair, and generous mouth that promised the best kind of original sin without saying a word. He was so tall that the top of his head barely cleared the doorframe, and the breadth of his shoulders filled the doorway as he passed through.
“Tell me about it,” Jeff muttered dazedly at my side. “She’s a knockout.”
A huff of laughter escaped me, and I jabbed my elbow into Jeff’s ribs. Transferring my gaze to the woman, I saw what Jeff was talking about. She was an au naturel Jane Birkin type with big, innocent blue eyes, a pert nose, and slight pouty lips. Her simple yet classically beautiful features were arranged in such a way that her initial cuteness morphed into gorgeousness upon closer inspection. As she unbuttoned her coat, it became obvious that she was also way pregnant. But despite the added weight on her, she appeared waifish and fragile somehow, like Kate Moss wearing a fake baby bump.
I couldn’t help but notice that the moment she’d finished unbuttoning her coat, her jaw-droppingly handsome male companion reclaimed her hand in his—as if he couldn’t bear to go more than a few seconds without touching her.
Ugh. Gross. They looked like the type of couple who’d fallen madly in love at first sight, were nauseatingly happy together, and were destined to live happily ever after. Not what I needed today. Yet as they stepped farther into the shop, my curiosity was piqued when I realized they were quietly arguing about something.
“All I’m saying is that I think this would go faster and be more efficient if we employed a more traditional approach,” the Latin Adonis said. “I fail to see why the ‘right thing to do’—according to you—must always somehow entail the most archaic, plebeian methods.”
The Birkin-esque woman shook her head. “Not happening. I need you to let me handle this my way, please.”
The man pressed his free palm to his chest and gave her a roguish grin. “Baby, of course. Don’t I always?” His dark eyes made a quick sweep of the coffee shop. “I was merely making a suggestion.” In a louder volume, he announced, “How fortunate. We seem to have missed the morning rush. Only three other patrons in here who are all about to leave.”
No sooner had he said it than those three customers began packing up their things and pulling their coats on.
What in the rando?
The brunette’s blue eyes flashed with annoyance as the imposing man next to her shrugged and muttered, “Huh. Lucky guess.”
“Very,” she replied, tilting her face up to his and giving him a withering look when he raised her hand to his lips for a kiss.
“Shall we, my love?” His adoring eyes never left hers as he inclined his head in our direction. As I watched, her tight features gradually softened beneath the warmth of his loving stare.
Yup. They were nauseatingly happy together. I stealthily sidestepped away from the register. I’d let Jeff wait on these two. He seemed more than eager to do so, given the goofy look on his face as they approached.
“Morning,” Jeff greeted, his starry eyes on the attractive brunette. “Welcome to The Screamin’ Beans. May I get you anything? Perhaps I could interest you in a sample of—”
“Yes, actually,” the Latin Adonis broke in. “You may stop ogling my wife, please. Or I will carve your eyeballs from your face.”
“Alex!” The wife erupted in horror, her cheeks turning fire-engine red.
“What?” Her spouse’s brown eyes cried innocence when she turned to glare at him. “I said please.”
I was honestly torn between laughing, swooning, and freaking out. I’d glimpsed an unmistakable underlying ruthlessness in the husband’s—Alex’s—expression that made me believe he was completely capable of what he had threatened.
Jeff began rapidly sputtering apologies as he backed away from the counter. “I meant no disrespect, sir. I was only being friendly. M-my employment contract requires me to be friendly to all patrons … and … and I apologize if it seemed I was staring too much. It’s just your wife—she’s clearly pregnant, as you know.” He blanched, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “Of course you know—it’s your child. I meant that I was momentarily distracted and couldn’t help but notice the fact she was pregnant b-because she’s got that glow that all pregnant—”
“Please,” the wife mercifully interrupted Jeff’s train-wreck rambling. “There’s no need to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Oh, you must mean that glow that says she’s carrying another man’s child,” Alex interjected, wrapping his arms around his mortified wife from behind and splaying one large, possessive hand over her belly. “Yes, well, in the future, I’d recommend you read that glow from every pregnant woman you see as if it’s a flashing neon billboard saying ‘back the fuck off’ if you want to live to see the end of your awkward phase.”
“Alex!”
“Darling, I’m only doling out friendly advice to the boy as a good Samaritan tourist.” Alex chuckled and bent to kiss his distressed-looking wife on the cheek before lifting his smiling eyes to me and to Jeff. “And anyway, you know I never maim or kill children.” His amused gaze leveled on Jeff. “You’re not eighteen yet, are you?”
Jeff
shook his head and backed up another step. “No, sir,” he lied. “Not yet eighteen.”
“How fortunate for you. Now make yourself scarce for the next twenty minutes while the adults talk.”
Jeff didn’t hesitate to get lost, disappearing through the back hallway. The sound of his footsteps clunking down the old metal stairs to the basement breakroom wasn’t far behind. I didn’t know whether I should run for my life after him or petition scary Alex to warn Jeff off ogling me as well.
“Was that really necessary?” Alex’s wife hissed at him.
“I feel better. So yes. I think it was.” He lifted his right hand from his wife’s belly and extended it to me. “I’m Alex. You must be Lauren.”
“Uh … yeah.” I shook his hand. It was unusually warm. “How did—?” His eyes cut to my nametag. Duh. “Right.”
His lovely wife, still flushing from embarrassment, extended her ungloved hand to me next. “Hi, Lauren. I’m Milena.”
“Hi.” I shook her hand—also oddly warm, given I hadn’t seen her remove any gloves since coming inside. “Nice to meet you.”
The smile Milena gave me was kind, and markedly shy and unassuming for a woman who looked as stunning as she did—and who had a husband as fine as Alex wrapped around her little finger. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Please excuse my husband’s rudeness to your coworker and convey my sincerest apologies.”
“Apologize?” Alex balked. “I did the fool a solid by not killing him just now.”
Milena’s entire demeanor shifted in a split second as she turned from me to her husband. “Outside.” She threw her pointer finger at the door. “Right now.”
Alex bit his lip and released a throaty groan, his eyes darkening on his wife. “Princess, you shouldn’t do that to me in public. Now I shall have to stand outside with an erection.”
“You are the most imposs—”
“I know.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and swooped in to silence her with a kiss straight out of a Hollywood movie.
The universe was seriously mocking me this week.
When they broke apart, he bent and pressed a kiss to her belly. Placing his palms on either side of it, he whispered to the baby, “Be good and keep an eye on your mom for me, okay? I’ll be right back.” His attention shifted to me as he straightened upright and pulled out his wallet. “Make sure she eats something.” He laid a Benjamin on the counter. “Don’t take no for an answer.”
Nice. Hot, possessive, and a high roller. He exited the shop, leaving his wife to apologize for his behavior once more.
“I’m so sorry. My husband’s not usually”—she shook her head—“never mind.”
Yeah. Probably best. “It’s fine.” I gave her my sweetest, most professional smile. “Please don’t apologize. May I get you something to eat? To drink?” So you can take your fairytale fucking marriage elsewhere.
Milena surprised me by ordering a blueberry scone, a fruit salad, and a decaf latte with organic almond milk. I’d totally pegged her as an organic oat milk type.
She started chatting me up as I was preparing her drink, but I only caught half of what she was saying, because DDTTB—the three annoying female spirits I’d met Thursday night in my stairwell—showed up. God, what did they want from me now? After nagging me all weekend where I lived, they’d decided to nag me where I worked? I’d taken to thinking of them as the “Weird Sisters” from Macbeth, and I’d labeled them the “Double, Double, Toil and Troublemaking Bitches” (DDTTB for short) in my head, because all they did was blabber nonsense-speak intended to rouse my anger and incite me to get even with the notorious werelock Maribel for the death of the seers—as if I had some ability to assist the bitter undead with their revenge schemes.
“So, unfortunately,” Milena continued, “it seems we just missed him. I understand he left five days ago. But he told me about how great the coffee was here, so I had to stop in and check it out. You may have waited on him once or twice. Although … Kai’s so reserved, he may not have spoken to—”
“Wait—Kai? Did you say Kai?”
Milena’s face lit up, her blue eyes brightening with excitement. “Yes. Kai—that’s the colleague of mine whom my husband and I just missed crossing paths with by a few days. Did you meet him while he was in town?”
I turned four shades of guilty red in an instant. It wasn’t lost on Milena. Crap. To play it off, I fibbed, “I spilled coffee on him once. I still get super-embarrassed whenever I think about it. It’s reassuring to hear he recommended The Screamin’ Beans to you anyhow.”
“Oh, yes, he raved about the coffee here.”
“What line of work is Kai in? I mean—are you in. I mean you both. What kind of work are you both in?” Wow. Slow your roll, girl. I sounded like Babs grilling a cornered single Jewish guy at synagogue.
At first, Milena seemed stumped by my question, and I was about to apologize for my rude prying, when she blurted, “International business.” And turned four shades of guilty red herself.
22
Lauren
I liked Milena. A lot. Once you got past her nauseatingly unassuming demeanor about her clearly picture-perfect existence, she was just a genuinely nice person from a small surfer town in NoCal who was a little socially awkward, was endearingly dorky, couldn’t lie for shit, and happened to be married to a rich Latin hottie whom she’d hooked up with ten years ago at the age of eighteen on a trip to Brazil.
Oh, to have that kind of luck in life.
The Weird Sisters had grown unusually quiet while I visited with Milena. So quiet that at first I’d thought they’d left to tattle my whereabouts for the day to all the other ghosts on campus. But then I caught their approving whispers about Milena. They liked her. Only they didn’t call her Milena; they called her the “vessel.” While the label was strange, it was in keeping with their nonsensical hag-speak that I had grown accustomed to over the weekend.
After chatting across the counter for ten minutes, Milena and I had taken seats at one of the tables in the otherwise empty shop. We’d been talking for over forty minutes since, and not one single customer had entered. I was sure that Alex was scaring them all away from his post outside the entrance.
Jeff had returned after twenty minutes, only to be sent back down to the breakroom by Milena this time. Unlike her husband, she’d been sweet and polite about it, asking him if he wouldn’t mind giving us some more time to chat in private. He’d been only too eager to oblige her request when he’d spotted her husband standing guard outside the shop.
I still hadn’t figured out what kind of “international business” Milena and Kai were involved in. And while I probably should’ve cared more about how cloak-and-dagger she was being about the whole thing, I was too focused on working up the nerve to ask her about Kai’s personal relationship status. I really was turning into my mother, it seemed, because after finding no subtle segue, I finally just came out and asked, “Is Kai single?” The worst—or best—she could say was no. Either answer would give me more closure than I had at present for my Stranger-Danger.
“He is!” she all but shouted, her face beaming with delight at delivering this news to me.
Through the glass shopfront, I saw Alex facepalm, but I was more interested in Milena’s excitement over sharing Kai’s single status to care how Alex might’ve heard. I’d often suspected the old glass windows were paper-thin, given how drafty it got in the shop.
“Newly single?” I shamelessly inquired. “It kind of seemed to me as if he might still be getting over a breakup.”
Milena’s cheerful expression fell a fraction. “Well, actually, Kai’s a widower.”
Holy freight train worth of baggage! Abort, Lauren. Abort.
“So ... like recently widowed?” I chose to cliff-dive into the abyss of inappropriate instead.
Outside the shopfront, Alex threw back his head and laughed.
Milena aimed a glare in his direction. “Um … let’s see … I suppose it’s been ten years now since he
r passing that he’s been single.”
What? “Wow. That long?”
She nodded. “Kai is very loyal by nature.”
Right. What was wrong with him? “He must’ve married super-young. How old is Kai?”
Milena’s eyes widened. After a beat, she replied, “Thirties?” And turned bright red.
Outside, Alex had doubled over, his shoulders shaking.
Even Kai’s age was a secret? “How long were they married?”
“Sixteen ye—months. Sixteen months.”
My jaw dropped. “And he’s been single for the past ten years since she passed? Did they date for an extended period prior to marriage?” Were they kindergarten sweethearts?
“No, they didn’t. They married rather quickly.”
Crap. “What was she like?”
Milena made a face like she’d stepped in dog shit, but then she quickly smoothed her features. “I didn’t know her. I met Kai after she had already passed. From what I’ve heard from Kai and from others who knew her, she was exceptionally smart. And … eccentric.”
“Smart and eccentric?”
“I understand she could also be a bit dramatic at times.”
Kai had remained loyal for a decade to a smart, eccentric drama queen?
“Was she very beautiful?” She had to have been for Kai to have such a hard time getting over her.
“Not at all.”
My brows shot up just as Alex came rushing back inside.
“Darling, I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our allotted time here and must be going if we’re going to make that other appointment you have.”
When Milena gave him a perplexed look, he said, “Remy. He needs our help, remember?” Understanding lit her features.
“Oh. Got it. But I need to use the restroom first.” She turned to me. “May I?”