by Willow Aster
“For someone so old, you sure are a fox,” he teases back.
“Hey, watch it. I mean … thanks.” I grin.
He holds up my hand and kisses the back of it. He’s definitely charming. We walk to the table and he’s still holding my hand. Two girls and a guy are already sitting at the table right by the stage.
“This is Mabel,” he says, holding up our hands and pointing at me with the other.
“Maby,” I say.
He grins. “Hi, Maby.”
I’m grateful it’s dark because I have a severe case of nerves all of a sudden. I feel the need to wet wipe my entire body. I swallow and smile shakily.
Everyone starts introducing themselves. Katie and Todd seem to be a couple. They both wave and say hi at the exact same time. Melissa hugs me right away.
“Hi! Cute hair! Glad you came. Coen’s told us a lot about you.”
“He has?” I look at Coen and he shrugs. I don’t know what he could have possibly told since we don’t really know each other at all.
“Well, mostly how he’s had his eye on you for the last year. We’ve had to hear the ongoing saga of how you don’t know he exists,” Melissa says.
I glance over at Coen and lift a brow. “I had no idea.”
“Exactly,” Coen says.
We all laugh and somehow move on from that potential awkwardness with ease.
Geez. I’m going to have to rethink every interaction I’ve had with Coen over the past year. I can’t remember anything significant, just morning pleasantries when he handed me coffee. We sit down and Coen finally lets go of my hand. I will not clean it. I will not clean it. Okay, I have to clean it. I discreetly reach in my bag and wipe my hands in the bag.
“He makes sure he’s always the one to make your coffee.” Melissa leans forward. “There aren’t many managers who would do that.”
Coen groans.
“She still just barely knows I exist, so let’s not scare her off, okay?” Coen says. He sounds gruff, but his smile completely negates it.
Just then, a gorgeous girl with long red hair comes out on the stage and quickly walks to our table.
“Hey guys! Thank you for coming! You must be Mabel.” She beams at me. “I’m Jade, Coen’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m excited to hear your set.”
The rest of her band does their tuning and she backs up. We order appetizers and drinks and the band starts playing. Jade’s voice reminds me of P!nk. I’m in complete awe.
Midway through the show, I realize I’m having a great time. Everyone in the group is so easy to be around that I don’t even think about my junk. If anything, I feel light and like I’m coming out of a deep fog. I offer to buy a round and go to the bar when the waitress disappears for a while.
The place is packed. While the bartender is working on our drinks, I turn around to watch Jade, and Dalton is right behind me. Now I know the universe is conspiring against me.
His eyes widen when he realizes it’s me.
“Mabel! Hi.” He smooths his hand over his hair. It’s gotten so long it’s barely in a ponytail. I hate it.
“Hi.” We stand there and stare at each other.
“I like your hair a lot,” he says. “Shit, you look amazing.”
“Thanks.” I don’t say anything about his disaster of a hairdo.
I look him over and try to understand why I stayed so long with someone like him.
“This girl is great, right?” He nods toward Jade.
“Yeah, she is. Where’s Courtney?”
His cheeks darken. “I needed to get out.”
“Awww. Hmm. History has a way of repeating itself.” A giggle pops out of my mouth. I bite my lip to try to stop the manic laugh that’s just under the surface.
A little fire lights in Dalton's eyes. Knowing him, I know he wants to say something sarcastic back, but he holds his tongue.
The bartender gets my attention and points to the waitress holding a tray of our drinks.
“Well, that’s for me. See ya, Dalton.” I smile and follow the waitress.
I don’t look back and I don’t watch for him the rest of the night. I’ve mentally given him the finger, both hands. I engage in the people I’m with and it feels damn good.
During the intermission, Coen turns to me and says, “Are you glad you came?”
“So glad. I love the music!” I look around the table. “And your friends are pretty great too.”
“I think so,” he says. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
I look at Melissa, who’s laughing at something Katie is saying. “Why aren’t you two together? She’s great.”
“We’re cousins.” He pulls a face. “Ew, Maby.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
“Anything else you wanna know?” he asks.
“How old are you anyway?”
“I’m 25. Got my MBA.”
“Wow, nice. And you’re older than I thought.”
“How old did you think? And what—did you think I just want to work in a coffee shop for the rest of my life?”
“No … I guess I didn’t think—”
He laughs. “I actually do want to work in a coffee shop for the rest of my life. I just want to run my own.”
“I’ve always thought that would be fun,” I admit.
“You don’t have to answer this, but … I hope you will.” He leans closer so he’s talking softly in my ear. “What has happened to make you happier lately? You definitely seem different.”
I turn and his lips brush against my ear, causing me to shiver. His eyes are dark brown and I get lost in them for a second. They are so kind, my eyes fill.
“My mom died,” I whisper.
He takes my hand and then catches the tear that drops.
“I am so sorry,” he whispers. “So sorry. That’s gotta be the worst kind of pain.”
His concern nicks the bricks around my heart and the tears fall. He pulls me to him and wraps me up in the sweetest hug.
I sheepishly wipe my face when I lean back. I smile wobbly. “No one else has said that to me. I didn’t realize how much I just needed to hear that.”
He frowns. “No one?”
“No one.”
“You need better friends.”
It’s weird—the people you expect to rally around you in a crisis. I apparently didn’t have a great group of friends to begin with, but the fact that even the one I thought I was closest to didn’t say much more than ‘this sucks’. I know I haven’t been around Coen long enough to know if he’d be a friend who would stick around, but I do know he’s already shown more compassion in a couple of sentences than anyone else. I think about Paschal and the kindness he’s shown me in such a short amount of time. Perhaps I’m finally attracting the right kind of people.
“You’re right. I do. I’m finally making an effort to change it. I think that’s part of why I’m happier.”
“I know you don’t really know me yet, but … I think this is the start of something extraordinary.” He kisses my cheek.
The room looks a little crisper; everything comes into focus just a bit more.
I don’t say anything. I just notice the curve of his full lips when he smiles. The wave in his hair. His eyes that are so dark that all the light in the room seems to bounce off them.
WE TRY TO close the place down with Jade and her band. Paschal comes by late and, of course, hits it off with everyone. At one point in the night, I laugh until my stomach hurts, and it takes me by surprise. I watch everyone for a moment and wish I’d known these people forever. It’s just … invigorating.
A picture flashes through my mind. I see myself surrounded by piles of baggage. Dalton, Courtney, Saul, Anna. My dad. Losing my mom. The OCD that takes over my life a lot of the time. I look at the heap and wish I could walk away from it all.
Coen looks at me. “What’s going on in that mind of yours, Maby?”
“I wish I’d really seen you a long time ago.”
/>
He touches my cheek. “It’s not too late.”
I close my eyes and lean into his hand. When I open them, he’s staring at my mouth.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says.
We tell everyone good night and run out into the cold. He has my hand and I don’t think twice. We run all the way to Washington Square Park. The lights shining down on the snow give it a dreamy effect.
“Hurry! We have to get there fast!” he yells.
“Where? Where are we going?”
“Riiiiiiiiight here.” He stops abruptly under the arch.
The spotlights shine on our faces. We stand there, grinning at each other like fools. I’m not sure who leans in first, but our lips meet and it’s like magic. Not a first kiss trying to figure out what the other one is doing kiss, but a perfectly in sync and combustible kiss. Even if we were to never see each other again, he’s already moved up to the extraordinary category.
I don’t know how long we stand there, oblivious to the cold. All I know is that I would be happy kissing him forever.
He’s not as short as Dalton, and almost, but not quite as tall as Saul. He might be just right.
“I COULD DO this all night,” Coen whispers on my lips. “But I just got you to notice me. I don’t want to blow it.” He kisses me again and I turn to putty.
He pulls away and I whimper.
“Let’s get you home. You’re freezing,” he says.
“I am?”
He grabs my face and kisses me hard. “For someone so hot, you sure are cold.”
“For someone so … yeah, I got nothing. You’ve rendered me speechless. And I did notice you. I just didn’t think…”
“I hope you’ll see me again?” he asks. “And that you’ll think about me at least a few times before then…”
His voice is light, but his eyes are vulnerable.
“Oh you’ve got me thinking for sure,” I tell him, eyes wide.
He holds my hands up to his chest and then leans down to blow on them. We start walking and find a taxi. Coen asks the driver to wait for him while he walks me to the door of my building.
“This night was even better than I expected … and I had high expectations,” he says. “I don’t want to scare you off, but … how about a real date tomorrow night? I mean, tonight. Since this was, you know, just a get together amongst friends.” His eyes shine when he teases me.
“Bring the lips and you’re on,” I say with a smirk.
“Deal,” he whispers and kisses me again.
The cab driver honks. Coen takes his time and backs away, watching me go up the stairs to the door.
“I’ll pick you up at 7?”
I nod.
“Night, Maby.”
I SLEEP IN the next morning. The afternoon passes quickly and before I know it, it’s time to get ready. I wish I had something colorful to wear, but stick to my new navy dress. I haven’t worn it since the night I saw Saul. Speaking of Saul, I owe him a call back. He left a voicemail around 2 AM.
“You didn’t call me. I hope you’re okay. This guy better not have been a creeper. Call me when you get in. I’ll be up a while.”
Instead of calling him back, I texted: I made it home fine.
It’s quiet from him all day and then he texts at 5 PM.
Saul: I’m in the mood for Speedy Romeo. How about it?
Pizza does sound good. I have plans tonight though. Sorry.
Saul: Coffee shop guy again?
I don’t answer. I’m a little peeved that he’s coming out of the woodwork lately. Why now?
While I’m looking for my eyeliner, I knock over my bottle of medicine and realize with a tiny jolt that I haven’t taken it for a few days. I’ve been so busy and off of my schedule. I apply my makeup and figure I’ll skip another day since I’m doing so well. I’ve never wanted to have to rely on medication anyway.
Besides, I like numbers. It’s not all bad. As long as I can keep a handle on it.
AT EXACTLY 6:59 PM, the intercom buzzes. I love it when people are on time.
I press the button and he says: “Coen Brady, here to see the lovely Maby Armstrong.”
“Hi! I know right where she is. Come on up. 305.”
I look in the mirror and carefully put on my dark red lipstick that won’t budge, mess my hair up in just the right places, and take a deep breath. I’ve counted to 27 when he knocks on the door. I wait 10 full seconds before opening it, so he doesn’t think I was just standing there waiting, even though I was.
“Wow,” he whispers when he sees me.
He looks adorable. He has a fitted argyle sweater over an untucked button down shirt and his hair is begging for me to latch on to it. His dimple gets more pronounced the longer I look at him because his smile just keeps getting bigger. Finally I smell something wonderful and realize he’s holding a small pot of flowers.
“Are those gardenias?” My voice gets more excited with each word. “I love gardenias.”
“For you,” he says, shyly handing me the flowers. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you.” I flush under the intensity in his eyes. “I can’t believe you brought me gardenias. They’re my mom’s and my favorite flower.”
“I thought you looked like a gardenia kind of girl.” He looks around my apartment. “It would work well by that window … and don’t let water touch the flowers.” He grins. “Nice place.”
“Would you like a drink or anything before we go?”
“We should probably go now to make our reservation.” He holds up my coat and helps me into it. “God, Maby, you smell freakishly good.”
I laugh. “You just have the smell of gardenias stuck in your nose.”
He opens the door and we start down the stairs.
“No, I have the smell of Maby in my nose.”
34, 35, 36…
We take a cab to The Bourgeois Pig, a place I’ve only heard about. It looks quaint from the outside, but when we go inside I’m surprised by the plush couches and the deep red on the walls. We’re seated at a table that’s set in a little alcove by the window.
“This place is a weird mixture of swanky and gaudy, but I kind of love it.” I look around at all the mismatched furniture. “What’s good?”
“This is my first time here, but they’re known for their wine and fondue. That sold me. The thought of you drinking wine and eating with your fingers…” His eyes twinkle as he smiles at me.
I gulp. “What if I want a steak?” I tease.
He nods and takes my hand. “As long as you share the dark chocolate and Baileys fondue with me for dessert…”
My heart skips a beat or two. “Done. So what made you think I was a gardenia girl?”
His dimple deepens. “Gardenias seem delicate—difficult to grow, but under the right conditions, they flourish. Stronger than they look…”
“And that reminded you of me?”
He nods. “Just need a little loving care…”
The waiter comes and takes our order and I smile at Coen as I order the lobster bisque fondue.
Coen quietly groans and holds up a hand. “I cannot be held responsible for what I might do.”
I’m giggling again. I can hardly believe it.
“How do you know so much about … flowers?”
“Well, my parents own a nursery and gift shop about an hour away. Some of my earliest memories are of me and my sister working outside with my mom and dad.”
“So why a coffee shop and not running the nursery?” I ask.
“Actually I probably will eventually, so I’m hoping to do my own thing for a while before that time comes. I loved working there growing up but got a little burned out. I needed to be here for school and I’m not ready to move back there yet. Ideally, one day I’ll add a coffee shop onto the gift shop side of the nursery and have the best of both worlds. I needed the experience of managing the coffee shop here, though, before I try to pull that off.”
“You’re just full of surprises.
”
“Good ones, I hope?” he asks.
“Really, really good ones.”
We smile at each other and I’m amazed by how content I feel. Just then my phone beeps.
“I’m sorry—I forgot to turn the sound off.” I pick up my phone and start to adjust the settings when I see that it’s Saul.
Saul: I need to see you. If not tonight, tomorrow. Please.
I ignore it so I’m not rude to Coen, but inside, it nags at me. I put my phone in my purse and try to file Saul away in a little compartment that I don’t have to think about right now … the way he did me for so long.
It begins to work when our food comes. I might have history with Saul, but the chemistry I have with Coen is undeniable. In fact, at the moment I can hardly remember what it was that ever had me holding on to Saul so tight in the first place.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” I moan as I dip bread into the lobster bisque.
I open my eyes and Coen is staring at me, mid-bite. He swallows hard and then shakes his head, knowing I’ve caught him.
“Don’t mind me,” he laughs, “I just want to ogle you while you eat.” He sips his wine. His eyes linger on my mouth. “Your lips … I haven’t stopped thinking about them.”
I blush, remembering our kisses in the moonlight.
He lifts his wine glass. “I kissed a girl I’ve wanted to know for a long time, and in a single moment, we were instantly in sync. The stars and planets aligned. I’ve never had a first kiss that was so … perfect.”
We clink glasses.
“Me either,” I admit.
“Our very own harmonic convergence, if you will,” he says, as he kisses me. A light kiss, but my heart drops to the ground just the same. With a soft groan, he stops. “I don’t think it’s possible for us to have a bad kiss.”
“We can keep trying, if you’d like,” I tease.
He traces my lips with his finger and then my eyebrow and down my cheek. “I want to know what makes you tick, Maby Armstrong. Those eyes—they’re deep. Tell me something.”
“What would you like to know?”