Brunch at Bittersweet Café

by Carla Laureano

  Just as she set her book aside, though, her phone rang.

  She didn’t even look at the screen before she answered, a smile on her face and in her voice. “Hey there.”

  “Hey. Did I wake you up?” His voice, as smooth and warm as melted chocolate, poured over her.

  She snuggled deeper into the covers, phone pressed to her ear. “No, I was just about to go to sleep. I figured you got caught up somewhere.”

  “I did. Delays because of weather in the upper Midwest. How was your day?”

  “Mmm.” It suddenly took too much effort to form the word good. Was she mumbling? She felt like she was mumbling. “Where are you?”

  “Lansing, Michigan. In the tiniest, most ill-equipped hotel I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t even have a gym.”

  “That’s a shame.” Vaguely, Melody knew Justin working out was a good thing, something she’d probably enjoy watching, even if she couldn’t quite grasp why.

  “Melody, are you okay? You sound a little off.”

  “I’m feeling a bit sleepy right now. I’m still trying to adjust to . . . to . . .” Where was she going with that?

  He laughed softly, and the sound covered her like a warm blanket. “Why don’t you go to sleep, then, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Night, Justin,” she mumbled. “I love you.”

  The last thing she remembered was her phone falling from her fingers, but she was too sleepy to catch it before it hit her pillow.

  * * *

  Justin stared at the phone in his hand, stunned speechless. Which didn’t matter, because if he wasn’t mistaken, Melody had just fallen asleep on the phone without hanging up.

  After she told him she loved him.

  He clicked off the phone and swallowed hard. She sounded so sleepy, it had probably been a reflexive answer, like she would end a call with her mom. Or maybe not, considering the shaky nature of that relationship.

  Either way, it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

  What if it did?

  Justin set his phone on the tiny hotel nightstand and started unbuttoning his uniform shirt with shockingly clumsy fingers. They’d been careful not to make promises, not to talk about any feelings they might have for each other. If they remained unspoken, it was like they didn’t exist. He and Melody would enjoy each other’s company and go their separate ways. Sure, it would hurt for a little while, but they’d get over it. They’d both be so busy that they wouldn’t have time to think about it.

  But if Melody loved him, that changed things, didn’t it?

  Naturally, he couldn’t ask her. If it had been a slip, the question would embarrass her and inject awkwardness into an already difficult situation. If she’d meant it, it would demand a response he wasn’t quite ready to consider. His only option was to pretend she’d never said it.

  Forgetting it was an entirely different matter.

  The next morning, settling into the first segment of his tour’s last day, he glanced at his copilot. “You married?”

  Marilyn Terayasu quirked an amused look at him. “I am, but even if I weren’t, I think you’re a little young for me.”

  Justin grinned. Unlike some of his other first officers, he’d taken to Marilyn right away. She had to be at least fifty, a former Air Force C-17 pilot who had jumped to the civilian world when she hit twenty years in and a full military pension. In addition to her sarcastic wit, she was sharp, attentive, and disciplined. Didn’t seem to mind that her captain was twenty years her junior or that she’d be lucky to see a promotion by the time she hit her second retirement.

  “I’ll try to get over it,” he said wryly. “What does your husband think about this?”

  “My husband is just happy I’m not flying supplies in and out of Bagram. We never came under fire on a single flight, but he was sure that I was just lying to him so he wouldn’t worry. Ferrying corporate types is a big step up in his mind.”

  “Would you have? Lied so he didn’t worry, I mean.”

  She smiled. “Of course. I take it you aren’t married.”

  He shook his head.

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Let me tell you something about women. They like relationships to be defined. If you want to hold on to this one, you need to decide what she is to you.”

  Justin darted a glance at her. “Up until now, she’s been the one to keep things casual. She’s about to open a bakery with a friend, doesn’t need the complications, but now I wonder . . .”

  “Do you love her?”

  It was the question he’d been chewing on since Melody’s accidental admission the night before. Did he? Would he even know what it felt like if he did? After all, his greatest relationship accomplishment to date was staying on speaking terms with women he’d seen a handful of times without any intention of seeing them again. He was the master of the polite brush-off. And yet the thought of doing any such thing with Melody was unimaginable.

  “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Too soon to tell.”

  “Then let me give you a word of advice: when you know for sure, tell her. Don’t play games. I know you young people are big on hooking up and moving on, but life’s too short. When you find someone special, you hang on to them.”

  Justin shot her a smirk. “You’re not that much older than me.”

  “Oh, believe me, sometimes that twenty years feels like a lifetime.” She winked at him. “You seem like a nice guy. Don’t be a cliché.”

  Don’t toy with Melody’s heart, she was saying. Suddenly, their agreement felt cruel. It was one thing to accept Melody’s irrepressible optimism when they were just casually feeling things out. It was another if she’d truly fallen in love with him.

  If he were still a praying man—or rather, if he thought God was interested in anything he had to say—he would plead for some sort of sign, an indication of whether to move forward or let her be.

  But since he wasn’t, and God remained an implacable mystery, he’d just have to figure out this one for himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  JUSTIN WAS STILL MULLING over the matter—okay, obsessing—when he returned to Denver late Friday night. He managed to hold himself back from calling Melody until noon Saturday, just in case she’d had another rough night, but when she answered, he heard hammering and power tools in the background.

  “Hello? Melody?”

  “Justin! Hold on. Let me go outside.” A couple of moments passed and the construction noise faded. “Sorry. I’m at the restaurant. By some miracle, our permits got expedited. I’m telling you, there has to be divine providence involved, because things never move this fast in Denver.”

  The words were like a knife in the gut, however unreasonable. She wasn’t acting as if she knew she’d dropped the L-bomb on him the last time they’d talked, though, which meant he needed to play things cool.

  “I’m so glad to hear that! I just wanted to check if we’re still on for the supper club tonight.”

  “If you still want to go. . . .”

  “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Melody stayed quiet, and a disturbing thought occurred to him. “You’re afraid they’re not going to like me.”

  “No!” Melody exclaimed. “Or not exactly. I’m just afraid . . . I don’t know.”

  “That they think I’m just messing around with you. That I don’t actually care about you.”

  “Do you?” The question was teasing, but he could hear the real need beneath the words.

  He took a moment and made his voice steady. “Of course I do, Melody. Do you have any idea how much it kills me every time I leave?”

  “It kills me too,” she whispered. “See you tonight?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Melody, I want them to like me, but the only opinion that really matters to me is yours.”

  She didn’t immediately reply, giving his heart a little jolt and reinforcing exactly how important tonight’s supper club was to her. He lightened his tone and
tried again. “Don’t worry about it. Whole package, remember? They won’t be able to resist me.”

  “Or your awesome humility. See you soon.”

  “Can’t wait.” He clicked off the phone and stared at his apartment wall pensively. This was make-or-break for them. These women were Melody’s family. If they didn’t like him, it was over. Maybe not immediately, but how could she resist their disapproval?

  Up until now, Melody had been the one who believed things would somehow miraculously work out for them, while he braced himself for their inevitable separation. But for the first time, Justin realized he was anticipating a future in which the opinions of their friends and family mattered, a future that stretched out ahead of them, unbroken. Maybe Melody’s optimism had begun to rub off on him. Or more likely, he was just fooling himself.

  He’d never wanted to be proven wrong so badly.

  * * *

  Justin showed up at Melody’s apartment a couple of minutes before six o’clock that night and slid in behind a resident before the door closed behind him. He rapped sharply on her door and stood back from the peephole, hands thrust into his pockets, pretending a confidence he didn’t currently feel.

  Meeting the best friends was more serious than meeting the parents. And then there was the surprise that was waiting down below.

  She swung the door open, a startled look on her face. “Did you buzz?”

  “Nope, surfed in behind someone.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Before she could say anything, he kissed her. All the tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding melted from him now that he had her in his arms. She tasted as sweet as whatever concoction she’d been working on earlier, the scent of vanilla floating around them. If there was any advantage to their long stretches of separation, it was that every time he kissed her hello, it felt like the first time.

  “I missed you,” he murmured in her ear.

  “I missed you too.” She rose on tiptoes to plant another quick kiss on his lips, then twisted away. “I told Rachel we’d be there a little early.”

  “The better to interrogate me?” He rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest and watching while she bustled around the kitchen. A bowl of something went in a crate along with a paper bakery box. Then she slid her bag onto her shoulder, hefted the crate, and crossed the room toward him. He took the crate from her and nudged open the door.

  Melody grinned. “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I just want to know whether to expect a lie detector test or Chinese water torture.”

  Melody locked her door behind them. “Depends on whether Ana had time to pick up the polygraph.”

  Justin chuckled and followed Melody down the stairs, but she didn’t laugh. “Wait, you weren’t serious, were you?”

  Melody shot him an unreadable look. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “That’s mean. Now I’m wondering if you deserve your surprise.”

  She stopped just before the building’s exit. “You got me a surprise?”

  “Not unless you call off the polygraph.”

  “Now I’m curious what you’ve got to hide.” She threw a grin over her shoulder as they moved out the front door and down the walkway to the street. Then she stopped short in front of the classic automobile parked at the curb. “Wait. That’s not my car.”

  “It certainly is.” He watched as Melody moved to the Hornet’s side, swiped a finger against the fender. Gone was the dirt and oxidation, the original green paint now buffed to a high shine, even though the original white stripe was nicked and scratched and the chrome bumpers pitted from the years. It was still an impressive machine . . . at least compared to its former self. Regardless of how nicely it had cleaned up, he knew he’d never have given it a second look were it not for Melody.

  He fished the keys out of his pocket, popped the trunk, and deposited the crate inside, then handed the keys to Melody. “Looks like you’re driving.”

  An expression of delight surfaced on her face and she practically skipped around the car. She slid into the driver’s seat and waited for him, alight with quivering anticipation. “Even the inside looks new!”

  “I had my detailer come by this afternoon and polish it up.”

  “Justin, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Of course I should have. Now start her up.”

  Melody carefully inserted the key into the ignition and twisted it. The engine roared to life with a throaty rumble, vibrating straight into their bones. It turned out to have needed more than just a new set of spark plugs, but after a full tune-up, it practically hummed.

  “I can’t believe you got it running. You’re a miracle worker.”

  He waved off her amazement. “It was fun.”

  She smoothed her hands over the steering wheel, speechless. Might as well give her the news. He handed over a sheet of paper.

  “What’s this?”

  “My friend’s appraisal. If you’re interested in listing the car with him. I took it over this afternoon for him to look at.”

  Melody read over the paperwork. “Twenty-three thousand?”

  “Apparently, the V8 engine and the four-speed tranny add about 20 percent to the top price. He said it could go for as much as twenty-five, but at twenty-three, he thinks he can get a buyer within a few months.”

  Melody lowered the paperwork. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “If that seems too low, we can try for the full twenty-five. But I told Dean that you needed the money for your business, and he thought this was your best bet.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” She turned to him with a quavering smile. “You did all this for me. On your time off.”

  “It’s nothing, really. I expected it to be much more work than it was.”

  “No. It’s huge.” She slid her hand up his arm and leaned forward to kiss him. “Thank you.”

  He studied her face in the dim light from the street, felt the answering tug in his chest. “You’re welcome.” He reached for his seat belt and buckled it on. “Now, let’s take her for a spin.”

  Melody pressed in the clutch, put it in first, and pulled away from the curb. He watched her silently. If he’d thought she was sexy driving her Jeep, it was nothing compared to her behind the wheel of a restored muscle car. Then again, he practically thought the way she breathed was sexy.

  After a few seconds, a smile crept onto Melody’s face. “I have to admit, it’s fun to drive.”

  “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s a couple seconds faster on the quarter mile than my Mustang. And since they made fewer than eight hundred of these in the early seventies, it’s far rarer.”

  He was so focused on Melody and the car that he didn’t pay attention to their route. She parked on a crowded street in a mixed residential neighborhood, put it in neutral, and pulled the parking brake, but she didn’t switch off the engine. Justin let the silence stretch until he couldn’t stand it. “You know, you don’t have to sell it. I won’t feel bad if you decide to hold on to it.”

  She shook herself and glanced at him, her eyes clear. “It’s not that. It’s just . . . I didn’t expect it would be hard to let it go. It wasn’t even my grandmother’s car.”

  “From what you told me of your grandmother, she wouldn’t want sentiment to stand in the way of your dreams. I think she’d tell you to sell it without batting an eyelash. In fact, she pretty much did.”

  “You’re right. I’ve just managed not to think about her . . . all this . . .” She let out a long, shaky breath. “It kind of sneaks up on me sometimes, even when I’m happy.”

  Justin found Melody’s hand on the seat between them and interlaced his fingers with hers. “She was important to you. It’s okay to miss her. But letting the car go doesn’t mean letting her go. You’ll remember the contribution she made to your bakery every time you step through the door.”

  “You’re right.” Melody squeezed his hand, and it was all he could do not to kiss her
again, even though this wasn’t the right time. “Now no more stalling. It’s time to face the music.”

  “I’m not the one stalling, sweetheart.” He winked and climbed out of the car to retrieve the crate from the trunk. He curled one arm around it, then pulled out a small gift bag.

  “What’s that?” Melody asked, peering over his shoulder.

  “Hostess gift.” He shrugged. “What can I say? My mom was big into etiquette.”

  Melody tried to peek inside, but he whipped the bag out of her view. “Come now, it’s not nice to open someone else’s gift.”

  “Fine, but I’m not going to call off the polygraph now.”

  Melody let herself into the house and was immediately greeted by exclamations of excitement. Justin followed more cautiously, closing the door and wandering down the hall of Rachel’s Victorian house. It was low-key and furnished with a mix of modern and vintage decor, giving him his first clue into Melody’s best friend and business partner.

  “Justin, come meet Rachel and Ana.” Melody poked her head around the corner and waved him in.

  Slowly he moved into the kitchen. It was already half-filled with people, mostly women. Melody took the crate and directed him first to a tall brunette dressed in jeans and a simple button-down with a black apron tied around her waist. “Justin, this is Rachel.”

  “Nice to meet you, Justin.” Rachel gripped his hand hard. Intentional or not, it was his second clue about her. But she gave him a friendly smile before looking to the man next to her. “This is my boyfriend, Alex.”

  Justin shook Alex’s hand as well, picking up a vaguely sympathetic air. Obviously the other man knew what he was being subjected to—or he’d been through the process himself. Belatedly, Justin remembered the gift bag in his hand and handed it over to Rachel. “Thank you for the invitation. This is for you.”

  Rachel’s brow furrowed as she dug through the tissue paper and pulled out two small glass jars. “Blueberry jam?”

  “I was in Maine this past week, thought you’d probably enjoy it. Plain blueberry in one and blueberry-rum jelly in the other.”