Must Love Coffee

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Total marketing stunt. Can’t believe people have been sucked in by it,” the girl student said.

  “Look at how deliberately sloppy this first certificate is, like this guy has never seen a PowerPoint slide in his life. No one is that bad at graphics,” the boy said.

  “Exactly. And hers? Way, way too neat and perfect. Either she’s a graphic designer or this was created by an ad agency.”

  “Can I choose door number two?” the boy said, and they shared a bitter laugh.

  Daniel opened his mouth to correct them, then realized there was nothing he could say that would convince two such jaded cynics that there were still real people in the world who enjoyed wasting their time on amusing their fellow humans. For free, even.

  They called his name then, and he was aware of the students watching him as he collected his coffees. He couldn’t resist acknowledging them on his way out.

  “Just heading back to the ad agency. We’re pitching big tobacco today. Huge account.”

  He pondered the interaction as he took his first mouthful of coffee. It was pretty sad that people didn’t take anything at face value anymore.

  He made the short walk down the block and was just about to duck into the lobby of his building when he spotted the dog. Some kind of Labrador cross, he guessed, wearing a tartan harness. He was tied to a pole, his gaze fixed on a nearby shop door, clearly counting the seconds till his owner returned. Grief sliced into his chest, familiar and painful, but before he could turn away, the dog fixed his gaze on Daniel. There was so much desperation and uncertainty in the faithful hound’s big brown eyes Daniel found himself slowing, then stopping.

  “Hey there, little fella. It’s all right. Won’t be long. No one would leave a beautiful boy like you out here for long,” he said.

  He had a coffee in both hands, but he stacked one on top of the other so he could reach out and scratch the dog’s ears. His fur was silky soft and warm, and the dog angled his head, leaning into the scratch, his eyes half-closed with pleasure.

  “You like that, huh?” Daniel said. The dog turned his head and licked his hand.

  “What a good boy,” he said, even though his throat was suddenly tight because Walter had been a big licker.

  “Oh, hey. Thanks for keeping her company.”

  A red-headed woman in her forties leaned down to untie the dog’s lead from the pole.

  “It’s a girl. Should have checked. My dog was a boy. I guess I just assume that every other dog is, too,” Daniel said, forcing a smile.

  “I’m so sorry. When did you lose him?” the woman asked, her face and voice soft with empathy.

  Dear God. Was it that obvious?

  “Two months ago.”

  “It’s the hardest thing, saying goodbye to our fur people.” She looked at her dog, unfettered adoration in her eyes. “Maisie’s the purest love I’ve ever known.”

  “I like her harness,” Daniel said. “Very dapper. If lady dogs can be dapper.”

  “I call it her sports bra,” the woman said, and they both laughed.

  “Well, nice meeting both of you,” Daniel said.

  “You, too.”

  Daniel went through the automatic doors into the lobby. He could still feel the softness of Maisie’s fur beneath his fingers. Such a good girl.

  It occurred to him as he rode up in the elevator that the Irish Wolf Hound of grief wasn’t weighing as heavily on his chest as it had been. If he had to quantify it, he’d say it was more Chihuahua-sized now.

  Almost bearable.

  The food court was so chaotic and noisy it felt as though someone had announced the zombie apocalypse and people were making a run on essential supplies. The Purge, Food Court edition. Cassidy wondered why anyone would choose to spend their precious lunch hour like this, then remembered she’d recently spent some of her precious free time composing fake loyalty club certificates. Each to his own.

  A waving hand caught her eye and she spotted Jon standing at a table for two. It took her a full minute to make her way through the sea of people. When she finally arrived, she couldn’t help noticing he’d lost a little weight and had a tan. Cheating obviously agreed with him.

  “Grab a seat,” he said.

  “This won’t take long.” She passed him the postage pouch with the shirt inside. “I cut your favorite shirt up, so I bought you a new one.”

  Jon blinked rapidly a few times. “You cut up my shirt?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was going to wash this one, pretend it was the original. But then I realized it doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t matter that you cut up my shirt like a crazy woman?”

  “It doesn’t matter what you think of me,” she corrected. “Anyway. Enjoy your new shirt and the rest of your life.”

  She turned to go.

  “Cassidy. Wait.”

  He caught her elbow, and his touch was so familiar-yet-strange it confused her.

  “Don’t touch me.” Her words came out more fiercely than she’d meant them to.

  His hand dropped away. She could feel heat climbing into her face, then she reminded herself she had every right to be angry, every right to expect him to keep his deceitful hands to himself.

  “Look. I just wanted to say sorry. I know I didn’t handle everything as well as I could have when we broke up.”

  It was so tempting to tear strips off him, to ask if “handling everything” encompassed the months he’d lied to her and slept with another woman, but the truth was that she simply couldn’t be bothered. Nothing she said was going to make him feel as bad or remorseful as he should for his shitty behavior and laying into him definitely wasn’t going to make her feel any better.

  They were over, he’d hurt her profoundly, and nothing was ever going to change that.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said, then she turned and walked away.

  She wasn’t due back at work for another forty minutes, so she decided to reward herself for her high level of adulting with a coffee. The best kind of reward, in her book. It was a downhill walk to Cuppa Diem, and she was pleased (for the café) to see they were still busier than usual. Good for them. She glanced a little wistfully at the two certificates still hanging on the wall as she waited to be served.

  Those were the days.

  “Cassidy. Just the usual?” Ari asked with his usual welcoming smile.

  “Actually, make it an extra large, thanks.”

  “Bad day?”

  “Good day, I think,” she said.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Cassidy paid for her coffee and started to turn away. Then some impulse made her turn back.

  “Ari, I know you’re very big on barista-client privilege, but I was wondering… Does Danny still come in?”

  “Of course. He’s one of our most valued costumers,” Ari said with a wink.

  “What time do you usually see him?” Cassidy asked before she could stop herself. She immediately shook her head. “No, ignore that. It’s none of my business.”

  Ari leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m not the kind of person who grinds beans and blabs, but I don’t think I’d be giving too much away if I said he likes a coffee with lunch.”

  Cassidy smiled. “Thanks, Ari.”

  When her name was called, Cassidy collected her coffee and found a stool at the crowded counter in the front window. Sliding her sunglasses on, she sucked the foam off her drink and told herself she was being stupid. She’d already decided she didn’t want or need to meet Danny. There was a purity in their interactions to date that she didn’t want to dilute.

  I’m just going to see what he’s like in person, from a distance, she told herself. That’s all. And then I’ll go.

  5

  Daniel ducked his head into Pete’s office.

  “Let’s go, loser,” he said.

  “I think we both know who the loser is. There’s a public record of it, too,” Pete said.

  “It was just a fig
ure of speech,” Daniel said.

  “Words matter, Danny.”

  Daniel laughed. “Are you coming or not?”

  “Sadly, I am not. I’m waiting on a call. I’d love a long black, though.” Pete opened his drawer to dig for change.

  “Keep your filthy lucre. I’ll be back.”

  Daniel nodded to Lisa from accounting in the elevator on the way down. A whirling dervish of leaves whisked past as he started down the street. He’d managed to miss the worst of the lunchtime rush at Cuppa Diem so took his place in the line and pulled out his phone to check the news headlines.

  Every now and then, he glanced at the two certificates hanging on the wall. He didn’t begrudge Cassidy her win, but he kind of wished she’d withheld her king hit for a few more days. He’d been enjoying their little rivalry.

  “Danny. Good to see you,” the bearded barista said as he tamped coffee into the group handle.

  “Thanks, man.” Danny smiled. It was his turn and he pulled out his wallet. “My usual, and Pete’ll have a long black,” he said to the server.

  “Coming right up,” she said.

  Daniel watched as she wrote his name on two cups and passed them to the bearded barista.

  “I suppose Cassidy’s still coming in? How’s she doing?” The words came out of their own volition, completely bypassing his brain.

  The barista looked at him, the expression on his face part surprise, part speculation, part indecision. Then he ducked his chin to his chest and focused on his work.

  “Um, yeah. Sure. Cassidy’s been in. I think she’s good.”

  All the little hairs on Daniel’s neck stood up. He didn’t consider himself a particularly intuitive person, but he suddenly knew that Cassidy was in the café.

  “She’s here right now, isn’t she?” he asked.

  He didn’t wait for the barista to reply. Instead, he turned on his heel and scanned the crowd. He knew Cassidy had dark hair. There was a dark-haired woman in the waiting area, but she was too young and she didn’t wear glasses the way Cassidy did. Then he locked gazes with a woman sitting on a stool at the counter in the café’s window. Almost immediately she whipped her head around, pretending to be fascinated by the napkin dispenser. But there was no denying the zip of recognition that had arced between them during the brief moment of eye contact.

  Cassidy. In the flesh. Right here, just feet away.

  Abandoning his order without paying, he started across the café. She must have sensed his approach because she slid off the stool so she was standing by the time he reached her. For a long moment they simply stood there, taking each other in.

  She was shorter than he’d imagined, barely coming up to his chin, even though she was wearing high heels. Her dark hair was straight and almost touched her shoulders. She wore a pair of tortoise shell glasses, and her eyes were a warm, golden brown.

  “Cassidy,” he said. Then he ran out of words.

  “Daniel,” she replied.

  Maybe she was having a word supply problem, too.

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. For some reason he noted she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  “I wanted to say congratulations,” he said. Apparently his brain had decided to resume communications with his mouth. “That move with the tattoo was pure genius.”

  “Thanks. Hurt like hell, by the way. Never getting another tattoo in my life.”

  “Ah. Noted for future skirmishes.”

  She laughed, her eyes crinkling very charmingly at the corners. “Now I’ve given you a secret weapon.”

  “You definitely have,” he said. He fought the urge to take a step closer.

  “I really liked your T-shirts,” she said. “If I hadn’t thought up the tattoo idea, I think they probably would have stumped me.”

  “Can I buy you lunch?” he blurted. For the second time in as many minutes, his mouth had gone rogue on him.

  “No.”

  He blinked with surprise. “Oh, okay.”

  “I like to pay my own way. But I’d be happy have lunch with you.”

  Relief washed through him, along with something else he didn’t want to examine too closely.

  “Where do you want to go? Any favorites?”

  She glanced out the front window of the café and he noticed her earrings were made of silver and shaped like little dachshunds. They’d always been one of his favorite breeds.

  “It’s a great day. There’s a place along the river that sells amazing hotdogs.”

  “I know that place. They do excellent curly fries, too.”

  “They do.”

  She collected her handbag from where it was hanging over the back of her stool, and they walked together to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel could see the bearded barista giving him a thumbs up.

  “That’s a bit embarrassing,” Cassidy said when they were outside. “Ari saw us leave together. Hope he doesn’t turn it into a thing.”

  “Who’s Ari?” Daniel asked as they started downhill toward the river.

  “The barista?” She gave him a sideways look as though she was questioning her decision to have lunch with him.

  “The guy with the beard? His name is Ari? I didn’t know that.”

  “How can you not know that when you’re Customer of the Week?” she asked.

  “I think we’ve firmly established that you are Customer of the Week, Every Week. And I’ve always been hopeless with names. To me, he’s always been the bearded barista. Sorry, who are you again?”

  She laughed, for the second time. Not that he was counting or anything.

  “My name’s Seraphina. Pleased to meet you,” she said, offering him her hand.

  He shook it. Her hand felt smooth and warm against his. Strong, too.

  “Hi, Seraphina. I’m Dirk,” he said.

  She laughed again. “Okay, you win that round. Dirk is an awesome alter ego.”

  Three.

  “So you work around here?” he asked.

  “I do. You?”

  “Same. It’s handy for my five-cups-a-day habit.”

  “Same.”

  “You’re a five-cups-a-day gal?” he confirmed.

  “Unless it’s a bad day, then I go to six. But never seven.”

  “God, no. Seven is a trip to the emergency department with tachycardia,” he said with a shudder.

  She glanced at him briefly as they crossed the road. “That’s weirdly specific.”

  He nodded. “Two years ago. Seven coffees, then a couple of Jager Bombs after work.”

  “Dear God.”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Still. Respect. You went there.”

  “I definitely did. The emergency room doctor did not share your admiration, however. He thought I should have known better.”

  “What a killjoy,” she said.

  “That’s exactly what I said.”

  They left the footpath and started across the grass, but after a few feet she stopped and gave a nervous laugh.

  “This is going to sound strange, but would it be okay if I put my hand on your shoulder for balance? My heels are sinking into the grass.”

  “Go for it. In fact, I insist,” he said.

  She put her hand on his shoulder, and they started walking again. He concentrated on not tensing up, even though a dangerously high percentage of his brain was focused on how good her hand felt through the thin cotton of his shirt.

  They found a table beneath the shade of a sprawling plane tree and Cassidy saved it for them while he went to order their food. Then he sat opposite her and they stared at each other for a slightly-too-long beat.

  “It occurs to me that I don’t even know what you do,” he said.

  “Corporate communications for a medical insurance company,” she said. “You?”

  “Digital architect. Which is a fancy way of saying I design internet platforms for big companies.”

  His brain teemed with half a dozen innocuous follow-up questions but none of
them would tell him what he really wanted to know about her.

  “I have a proposal to make,” Cassidy said.

  “I am open to proposals of all kinds.”

  “I read somewhere that people tell you the most important thing about themselves within the first ten minutes of meeting them.”

  “So you’re suggesting we cut to the chase?” Daniel said.

  “I’ve only got an hour for lunch.”

  “I’m in. Who wants to go first?” He liked the idea of fast tracking to the important business of getting to know each other.

  Although—rightly or wrongly—he felt he already knew some of the important stuff about Cassidy. Like the fact that she was wicked smart, competitive, and funny. And cute.

  He’d never admitted to himself that he found her round face and small nose very appealing before. At the height of their coffee war, it would have felt as though he was admitting a weakness.

  Now it felt…necessary. Timely. Important.

  “How about we trade answers?” she suggested.

  “Deal. But that still doesn’t answer who goes first.”

  They eyed each other assessingly.

  “Toss a coin?” they said simultaneously.

  He tried not to smile too broadly as he fished in his pocket for a coin. “One toss or best of three?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Best of three. So we’re both satisfied we had a fair shot. And the winner goes second.”

  He loved that she was happy to admit they were both still seeking the upper hand in their rivalry. Or whatever this thing they were doing was called.

  Three coin tosses later, Daniel rested his elbow on the table. “When you’re ready.” It took every ounce of self-discipline he owned not to sound too triumphant.

  Cassidy took a sip from her bottle of mineral water. To help swallow the taste of defeat, he assumed. Then she licked her lips and sat a little straighter.

  “I’m thirty-one,” she said.

  “Thirty-two,” he responded.

  “I work too much and don’t see my parents enough.”

  “I work too much and sometimes I use it as an excuse to avoid doing social things that make me uncomfortable,” he said.