Truth & Consequences (Boston Latte Book 2)

by Fiona Keane

  “Hi!” Matt beamed upon entering the shop, stuffing his knit cap into the pocket of his parka before placing it on a hook. “I can’t wait until this crap melts.”

  I watched Matt wipe sparkling flakes from his knees and shins, groaning in response to the snow. “It’s always pretty at first,” I said, standing near the small fridge beneath the espresso bar, “but by the seventh nor’easter, we’re all wishing we were in California or somewhere else. Yet here we are.”

  “Right? Maybe I’ll go there and never come back. You can come with me, Aideen. We could open up a coffee shop there,” he teased, stepping toward the register to begin the morning preparation. “Think of the possibilities.” It’s now or never. I approached Matt, hesitant to disclose the entirety of my thoughts behind leaving.

  “Speaking of possibilities, Matt, I need to talk to you about something. Emma should be back after the weekend, and…I’ve had some things happen in my world that need to be handled…I’m not sure how to say this, I guess…I’m…” He smiled at me, holding his finger in the air while a customer approached. Biting the inside of my cheek, I patiently waited for Matt to finish speaking with the businessman, who only ever ordered boring, dark roast coffee with a side of his grumpy-ass attitude. When he stepped away with his disposable cup, not having left a gratuity, Matt returned to my attention with his arms crossed.

  “What’s up?”

  I tossed my hands in the air, prepared to just let it go. “I’m leaving Boston. I sort of have to go. I’m really sorry. Don’t worry about your job. Emma’s keeping the shop. I just need to. I can’t really explain it.”

  “Hey.” His arms fell while he stepped toward me, handing me a napkin from the counter. “Here. You’re crying, Aideen. It’s not my business, and I’m going to miss the fucking hell out of you, but you have to do what’s best for you.” Why isn’t he my age and available? He’s so sweet. He doesn’t have a gun. He doesn’t play games. He’s relaxed. My friendly hipster. Not that it was a question, but I knew Matt, or anyone else, wasn’t for whom my heart ached. Ugh. With a nod, he simply acknowledged my epic decision and returned to work while customers trickled in for the morning rush.

  After about an hour of the busy influx, many of whom graciously tipped our newest employee for his kindness and efficiency, I contemplated whether or not to even finish the morning.

  “Two more.” Matt nudged my arm, handing me two large paper cups with his sloppy writing along the side. “I didn’t see this one on the menu but figured you’d know how to make it. Is that okay? Should I not have said—” I took the cup in question, spinning it in my palm to read exactly what he wrote.

  “Who ordered this?” My heart bubbled, a burning tickle that wiggled through my ribs and onto my skin.

  He shrugged, his lips turning into a pout. “Some old lady.” Oh.

  “Oh.” The word left my lips with a disappointed tremble. “It’s just espresso, milk, and honey. I took it off the menu. It’s fine. You can let people order them. It’s…it’s easy to prepare. I’ll just…yeah…I’ll get it.”

  I don’t know what I expected, my heart filling with a nervous excitement that radiated with guilt. Had I seriously thought Julian would come in? After a week of not hearing from him, knowing I’d left him exposed and raw, as he made me, I couldn’t have expected him to come to me by then. That’s half the reason I was returning the necklace that burned a hole straight through the pocket of my jeans and into my bones. It was a cruel joke from the universe to stand at the espresso machine and pour honey into the bottom of a customer’s cup. I lost focus while creating the sweet spirals, certainly adding too much to the cup and not caring. Stupid universe. I snapped from my stupor, placed the latte on the counter, and let Matt know it was finished.

  “She went to the window,” he uttered, reaching for the cup. “I’ll take it over there.”

  I spun around once Matt stepped away, quick to wipe the frothy milk from the steam wand. I wiped mindlessly in a slow, lethargic rhythm while my mind drifted back to its home from the prior night. The rag fell and I followed it, kneeling beneath the counter and taking momentary solace in hiding while Julian’s words rang in my mind. There’s nothing more in this world I want than you. Matt’s voice chimed in, splitting Julian’s words.

  “She was very much appreciative.” He chuckled. “I think she might have also hit on me. I already have a grandma, though, so…not really sure what her angle is.”

  “Huh?” I looked up from the floor, partially consumed by the thought of Julian.

  “The old lady who ordered the honey latte.” His thumb pointed behind him as he leaned against the counter. “She…never mind. Are you all right?” No. I’m not. I’m actually really not. Rising to my feet, I shook my head in response.

  “I need to do something.” I dropped the rag against the counter. “I’ll be back in an hour. You’ll be okay?”

  “Uh,” he glanced around the shop, his cheeks reddening, “no, but you’re the boss.”

  I skipped toward the backroom, my feet jubilant with need as I collected my coat and returned to the bar.

  “You’ll be fine, Matt. I promise. Don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, and stick to the menu. I’ll be back in an hour. I promise. Thank you,” I stood on my tip-toes while zipping the length of my parka, pecking his cheek. “You’re the best. I owe you.”

  His hand rubbed the mark on his cheek, nodding in acceptance that I wasn’t planning on sticking around. I wiggled around him, jogging through the tables of customers to reach the front door, sliced by frozen wind as I stepped onto the crisp sidewalk. It was only a few blocks, but my heart pounded furiously.

  Chapter Seventeen

  My shins throbbed, the sensation of shattered bones pierced my muscles and skin while I ran over piles of salt and snow to get there. Lights weren’t in my favor, beeping cars tried to take me out, and my heart continued to pound. Its violent reminder pleased me; it powered me, the conscious throb telling my soul and mind this was the right thing to do. I could no longer betray my soul.

  My mind wasn’t imaginative. There was no way it could’ve fabricated those words, the intricate depth of emotion each syllable stirred within me. I couldn’t believe my brain would devise such intoxicating delight, the security of his explanation and thoughts, only to humor my sleeping soul. No.

  I bent over, steadying myself and catching the intense breaths that forced frozen air into my throbbing lungs before I turned the corner. I knew when I looked up I would see his building. Being so close, only two structures away, I suddenly found myself unable and unwilling to physically stand. I was stuck at the knees, hobbled over myself with a body refusing to move.

  “Are you okay?” a man questioned, approaching my hunched figure. I felt his hand on my back, causing me to flinch.

  “Yes. Sorry.” I recognized the man as one of Julian’s neighbors and was disappointed in my quick need to demonstrate manners. The deviant, as Julian denied ever grumbling when the man refused to peel his eyes from me upon meeting. It was ironic to share space with Mr. Hill so close to Julian’s home, considering his interruption outside the elevator on Saturday gave opportunity for Julian to give me the necklace that now burned in my pocket. I was on a mission, and he interrupted it. No, he didn’t. You’re the one refusing to move when you’re literally within sight of his home. He probably wasn’t even home. It didn’t matter. Why’d I come?

  “You’re…yes, I thought so.” The man smiled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “Miss Leary, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes wandered the length of me, narrowing at my boots before returning on the same slow path they had descended. “I’d be happy to let you inside.”

  “Pardon?” His stare left me feeling anything but comforted. Mr. Hill’s hands lifted from his pockets while he gestured behind him to the monument of my destination.

  “I’d be happy to let you inside,” he repeated, motioning to the building. �
��You’re on your way to Mr. Molloy, right? No security either…shame. Come, let me take you there.” I yanked my arm from his touch, his fingers starting to wrap around my bicep.

  “Thanks, Mr. Hill.” I tucked my hands into the pockets of my parka, politely stepping aside. “I’ll manage just fine. It was nice to see you. Have a wonderful weekend.”

  I hate being nice to assholes. Pre-Julian, I would have drop-kicked that sleaze ball for merely looking my way. PJ. Pre-Julian. Pre-life-altering-heart-stopping-soul-shattering-Julian. I needed to be polite to Mr. Hill because, as my soul was beginning to suggest, I might actually care. I took a step and then stopped. This is progress. Way to go, girlfriend. You’re almost there. Just about ninety-nine more. I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to say to him. He’s probably not even home. Just go and see. Snarling at my subconscious, I took a few more steps, then a few more, and finally found myself within earshot of the doorman. Can’t. Feel. Can’t. Breathe.

  “Ah.” The doorman turned to see me standing with my body tightly clenched beneath my arms. “Miss Leary. It’s lovely to see you. Although I’m sad to report Mr. Molloy has already left for the morning. He did mention to me that you’re welcome at any time, any hour, and so on. Would you like me to let you in or…Miss Leary?”

  My eyes danced around the imposing glass door of the building, the aroma of the city mixing with the warmth of the lobby as people opened the doors and sent my thoughts directly back to Julian. “Wh—When did he mention that to you?”

  “He’s—” The doorman stepped closer, nodding to a resident who approached the door to enter. “He’s told me that every morning and every evening. Well, actually, he tells me that every time I see him.” The doorman was chuckling politely, the cloud of his laughter thickening in the frozen air.

  “Oh?”

  He nodded, his gray hair bouncing with the movement. “He checks to see if you’ve come. He’ll be delighted, I’m sure, to know you were here. Have you been on holiday?” Think. Um. Yes. Total vacation. I was in the Bahamas, working on my freckles.

  “I own a coffee shop, and I’ve just…so busy.” I tried to smile at the elderly man, receiving his soft expression. “Actually, could you just give him something for me? I don’t want to hassle you with going in and…well, I need to get back to work.”

  “Certainly, ma’am.” What am I doing? He watched me expectantly, waiting for whatever I was going to give him. I was more aware of the strange feeling of the diamonds within their envelope while I stood outside of Julian’s building. I reached for my pocket, unfolding the wrinkled envelope in my palm. The doorman held his hand out for it, but I couldn’t lift it beyond my pocket to give it away.

  “Miss Leary?” No. I can’t. It was the last thing he gave to me. An angel and a devil. They work well together. Last night, I could only think of releasing that final tangible piece of him, but while the doorman waited, his patience running thin despite the gentle smile along his wrinkled mouth, I refused to let go of it. I can’t.

  “I’m sorry.” My brow furrowed, surely leaving him confused as to how Mr. Molloy could associate with such a nut. “I didn’t…I didn’t bring the right envelope. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  “No worries, ma’am. I’ll be sure to tell him you came. He’ll be delighted.” He stepped away, repeating his words like an echoing leprechaun. “Just delighted.”

  It was hard to imagine delight and what that would truly look like on Julian’s face. I could only see it in my dreams, the softness and innocence of a contrived image reflecting my own hope and affection. I turned to look at his building once I reached the intersection one block away, my eyes drawn to the floor he occupied, imagining what happened beyond those windows and what could happen. With the necklace stuffed into my pocket, practically adhered to my body, I headed back to work to save Matt and drink enough coffee to replace the trembling along my hands with the buzz of sweet, savory caffeine.

  I entered through the back, hoping to sneak in and not disturb the flow of customers. I also desperately needed a transition, a moment to wipe the frozen tears from my cheeks. I came so close to Julian, feeling the warmth of air push around me as people opened the door to his building, but still remained so far away.

  “You’re ba—what’s wrong?” Matt startled me, approaching while I held the cuffs of my shirt against my eyes.

  “Nothing,” I lied. “I’m just…it’s hard to think about leaving.” Julian. It’s hard to think about leaving him. Him.

  “Aww, Aideen. Do you need a hug or something?” His flannel-covered arms shrugged, the enormous fraternal grin spreading his mouth with a kind smile.

  “I’m fine, Matt.” I waved him off. “I’ll be fine. Back to work for both of us now. Go on. Go on. I’m still your boss until I leave.”

  “Oh.” He laughed. “Fine. It slowed down a lot since you left. Just a few people lingering around.” We walked together back into the space between the office and the beginning of the counter, still out of view from customers.

  “I’ll be right there.” I wiggled my fingers into my pocket, pulling out the envelope. “Just a minute.” Matt nodded, continuing toward the register, waiting for customers to arrive. He wasn’t exaggerating; it was really slow. Fine with me. Less bullshit and fewer fake smiles. I hate fake smiles.

  Holding the necklace in my palm, its weight heavier than a tangible measurement, I rolled my free index finger over the stones before locking the necklace around my neck and adjusting the way it fell against my chest. I knew it wasn’t meant for a long-sleeved white shirt, but things can change. Can’t they?

  Anchored and still burning with guilt, I stepped toward the espresso machine in preparation of my third drink of the day. I anticipated being awake all evening as a result, only finding solace in my dreams. I craved them with a physical and emotional thirst—a passionate hunger for the feeling they left burning inside of me, whether hallucinations or truth.

  “Cappuccino,” Matt nodded toward me while I was in the middle of making myself a mocha, “for here. Medium.”

  “Okay.” I smiled at him, accepting the blue ceramic mug he waved in my direction. I glanced at my chest while I steamed my almond milk, mesmerized by the sparkling stones that weighed against me.

  “Aideen! That’s going to be one seriously hot drink,” Matt shouted, stepping toward me. “Wake up!”

  I pulled the cup of milk away, having lost focus and almost killed myself with a two hundred degree beverage. Get it together. I placed my milk to the side, wiping the steam wand with a clean rag before beginning to make the ordered cappuccino. Matt stepped away, still chuckling at my distraction.

  Once the cappuccino was served, orders slowed to nothing. Matt asked again about watching the news to see if swimming was on, to which I didn’t object. In the wake of customers, he was floating back and forth between the storage room, the television, and the front counter.

  “It’s not on,” he groaned as he approached me for a third time, carrying a canister of black tea in his hands. “We can turn it off.”

  “Whatever.” I sighed lightly, leaning my elbows against the counter, mindlessly twirling the pendant in my fingers. I forgot about my milk, sure it cooled to room temperature at that point, and started to reach for it when Matt slowly walked toward me from the register.

  “It’s another honey latte,” he mumbled, handing me a large ceramic mug. “Almond milk and extra honey.”

  “What?” I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the diamonds, my other hand releasing the cup of my cooled milk.

  “Large honey latte, almond milk, with extra honey,” he repeated the order, staring at me like I was a fool. His brows met in humored confusion while he set the mug next to the espresso machine and stepped out of sight to the register. No.

  My skin burned with a dangerously optimistic wave of hope. I could smell the electricity in the air that slowly spun around me like a heavy, intoxicating breeze that lured me in like a pathetic pawn. I was te
rrified, stiffened with anticipation while I stepped from the espresso machine toward my fate. Breathe. His back was toward me, giving me one more second to collect the shaking air in my lungs. Oh my God. Fuck. Lattes. Nutmeg. Diamonds. Mob. Julian. Lord. Buddha. Breathe, Aideen.

  Even from behind, only able to observe the way his tailored black dress shirt tightly stretched along his muscular shoulders while he held his phone against his ear, and the way the seat of his slacks stretched while his free hand rested in his pocket, he was deathly stunning. Deathly was an understatement. I already died with and for that man, leaving the shattered pieces of my prior self lying in wake of the past somewhere on the path between work and his building. Licking my lips, I opened my mouth to say something to him, but he slowly spun around, ceasing all function of my body. He looks like shit. Beautiful, gorgeous, amazing shit.

  “I noticed the drink I ordered isn’t on the menu.” His first words to me in a week sang into my ears. “I hope it isn’t inappropriate of me to order it.”

  “It-It’s fine,” I stammered, watching his eyes scan my face, as mine also took him in, hoping not to wake from that dream. “It’ll just be a minute.” I am standing here like a stammering fool, paralyzed by the potency that is Julian.

  “I have the time.” His lips twitched. I wasn’t moving, my brain not yet processing the fact I convinced myself the night before that Julian was a bad man, someone from whom I needed to leave, planning my escape from Boston. I didn’t want my brain to think that. I couldn’t. I kept the necklace for a reason larger than pawning it to pay for moving expenses. It was from him.

  “My latte,” his throat cleared, reminding me I actually needed to move, “please?”

  “Right.” I blinked, flustered and embarrassed in his presence. That was not me. I don’t fluster; I don’t embarrass. I kick ass and destroy, but seeing him again, hearing him, even smelling the delicious warmth of his cologne, every particle of my existence melted at his feet.