by Tyora Moody
I grinned at my aunt. “Is this your way of encouraging me to be there when he shows up?”
With a raised eyebrow, her grin conspiratorial, “It wouldn’t hurt.”
The problem with my aunt’s idea is I worked a few miles from Southern Delights. It wouldn’t be easy for me to swing by her cafe and then get back to work on a lunch hour. The days I swung by to grab coffee and breakfast, I was almost always late getting into the office. I would have to figure out if I could take a day off, but when that would be, I didn’t know since we had some big projects launching this month.
Would I ever meet Mr. Cafe Americano again in person? Or would I have to settle with the version my imagination had cooked up for my novel?
3
Severe thunderstorms warnings had threatened all day. It was late June and summer storms were a normal part of being in the South. By the time I left work, the rain was pouring so hard, I decided I would just wait out the storm. I knew I didn’t want to waste valuable time sitting in traffic; today was already turning into a bust. I managed to forget my umbrella and got my clothes wet and my hair as well, thanks to the whipping wind.
When I arrived at Southern Delights, my aunt wasn’t visible in the front. I walked up to the barista working today, Kelley Long. She was my aunt’s longest working barista, a little bit older than most of the college age workers.
Kelley greeted me warmly, “It’s a mess out there today. What can I get for you?”
“Just coffee today.” I needed hot liquid to warm me back up and decided to keep it simple.
I grabbed the coffee and added two sugars and cream, pleased to see not many customers hiding from the rain. My favorite booth was open. I pulled out my laptop and sipped the warm liquid, waiting for my laptop to boot. Once I opened my manuscript, my fingers connected to the keyboard. I was able to zone out my surroundings and enter the world of my characters. So enthralled by my own writing, I hadn’t noticed others had decided to hide out in the cafe anyway. I glimpsed a growing line of rain-soaked stragglers inching towards the counter. My aunt was out front now with her baristas taking care of orders as fast as they were called out.
While my head was turned, someone had stopped near my table. I looked up into the beautiful brown eyes of Mr. Cafe Americano or whatever his name was.
He smiled, “Hello, I see we had the same idea.”
My face grew warm as I reached for my laptop and closed it. I’d only been writing about the man, as a fictional character, of course. Now, he was standing in front of me. “Yeah,” I stammered, “I have been caught in traffic with these storms before. Not fun, but it should pass in the next hour or so.” My eyes swept the cafe, noticing most of the booths had been filled. I gulped as I looked back at him. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do, but I offered, “Would you like to sit?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty deep in your work.”
I waved as if it was nothing. “I could use a break.”
He slid into the booth in front of me. I tried to suck in a breath, but my chest felt tight all of a sudden like the breath had been knocked out of me.
Why was I reacting like this? I was a grown woman, not some teenager.
I glanced at the counter. My aunt didn’t seem to notice I was there today, which was probably a good thing. She would have caused me to freak out even more.
I turned back to Mr. Cafe Americano and smiled. It sure would be nice to know his name. I held out my hand, “I’m Nia Michaels.”
Taking my hand in his, he grinned. “The author?”
I frowned. He didn’t strike me as one who read romance novels. “How did you know?”
He winked. “Your aunt mentioned it to me.”
“Oh.” I nodded. Thanks, Auntie. “You are?”
“Brendan McCormick.”
Finally... a name. Then, I noticed he was still holding my hand. He had really nice hands. I pulled my hand back and placed them both in my lap, suddenly aware of my wet clothes sticking to me. I reached up and raked my fingers through my hair, which I’d recently had cut down shorter. On most days, I kept it smooth around the side with curls on top. The way my hair was drooping on my forehead, I was sure those curls had become a mass of messiness.
I looked back at him. “Do you work around here?”
“I do, two streets over. I work as a financial advisor at Nobles Finance.”
“Wow, you trekked all the way over here? You’re brave to walk in this rain.”
He smiled, “I like the walk. And Southern Delights definitely offers the best coffee around town, not to mention, I love pie. In fact, I’m thinking about buying a full pie for next weekend. Some good friends invited me to their home and I thought it be best not to arrive empty-handed.”
I chuckled. “That’s thoughtful of you. You’re going to make someone really happy with one of my aunt’s pies.”
“Do you cook too?”
I shrugged. “Not the way my mom and aunt cook, but I do alright.”
He grinned, “I’m not too bad myself.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
His smile was shy, reflective. “I learned from the best. You’re lucky the women in your life are still around. In the kitchen, I feel closest to the women who are no longer here like my mom and grandma. Those women believed in cooking old fashioned Southern meals and had no problem preparing for armies of people. I only have to cook for one, but I like to play around with...” he made quotes with his fingers, “... healthier versions of the food they cooked.”
“I’m sorry about your losses.” He was right, I was lucky. Even though my mom and her sister could be a pain sometimes, I didn’t know what I would do without them. I cocked my head to the side, “So you like to experiment with cooking healthy foods. Sounds like the makings of a real chef.”
His eyes locked on me. “In a past life, I would have loved to be a chef.”
I mulled over his revelation, feeling incredible with how much he revealed about himself in a few minutes. We sipped our coffee. Mine had grown cold, but I didn’t mind. The rain outside was still pouring down as if it would never let up. I was in good company and had nowhere in particular to be... other than getting back to my writing.
I can wait out the storm a bit longer. This is good research for my character, I thought to myself.
Brendan spoke first, breaking our silence, which hadn’t really been that awkward. I was surprised with how comfortable I felt around him so quickly. The image I had of him had been in my head for weeks now. The real man, Brendan McCormick was a treat to behold.
“So what sparked your interest in writing? ”
I got this question all the time, but I didn’t want to tell him my interest in writing was sparked by a bad relationship. Instead, I told him, “I have always enjoyed creative writing. I do have a day job, mainly writing press releases, blogs and social media copy. Not the most exciting stuff to write. A few years ago, I started on a story and it grew into a novel. I pitched it to an agent at a conference, and the rest is history.”
“That’s awesome. I’ve thought about writing a book. I’ve even jotted down some ideas.”
I leaned forward in the booth. “I highly recommend joining a writers’ group or attending a writers’ conference. It helps to have the support and learn about the craft.”
“Any recommendations?”
Recommendations? I tried not to make my grin too wide since I saw the possibilities of his question. “I can send some resources and links to you.”
“Sure, let me give you my card.” Brendan pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket that had the Nobles Finance logo on the front. Then, he pulled out a navy blue pen with the same logo.
Well, his day job is legit.
I watched as he jotted a phone number on the back, then on the next line, his email address. “Here you go. If you wouldn’t mind emailing me, I’d appreciate it.”
I stared at the card. My eyes were more on his numb
er, my thoughts wondering why he’d shared it. I nodded, “I will email you soon.”
“Great. I look forward to seeing you again. Soon, I hope.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Brendan slid out of the booth, not taking his eyes off me. “Have a good night, Nia.”
“You too, Brendan.” I waved slightly, feeling all the comfort and warmth from the past few minutes slip away. I’m not sure why my nervousness returned after he left the booth, but I peered down at my hand, my eyes zoning in on his phone number.
Did he want me to call him too?
“What you got there?”
I jumped in the seat, clutching my chest. I turned to stare at my aunt. “Where did you come from?”
My aunt frowned at me. “Uhm, child I know your head is all messed up from having that good looking man sitting with you, but you do remember I own this place?”
I blinked, wondering why my favorite spot happened to be owned by my family. Nosy family at that. “Brendan gave me his information. I’m going to send him some recommendations since he’s interested in writing.”
My aunt slid into the space Brendan had just occupied. “Well, aren’t you Miss Smartie? Got a name and some contact information. I’m proud of you.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled at my aunt’s silliness. Aunt Linda did have a point. Instead of a bust, today turned out to be a blessing. I had a way to reach out to Brendan McCormick.
4
I gathered the writers’ resources and emailed them to Brendan. Then, I waited. I mean I wasn’t waiting around not doing anything. Life went on, but I’d emailed him on a Saturday morning and he responded Monday evening. The moment I saw his email in my inbox, it was like the world stopped. It was a short email, and I can’t remember the number of times I read it. Somehow, I found myself in a loop of reading it over and over again like it was a love letter or something.
Thank you, Nia. I know as an author you must be pretty busy with your writing so I appreciate you sharing these resources. I really do hope we can meet again. I enjoy talking to you and feel like we would make great friends.
Make great friends. It definitely wasn’t a love letter.
I wasn’t sure what to think about the last line. I had the man’s phone number, I could just call him. While I was a modern woman, I felt really apprehensive about just calling Brendan out of the blue. Wouldn’t I seem desperate? I mean he indicated he was looking for friendship. Which in fact, was what I wanted to. I didn’t want to fall head over heels for someone only to be disappointed. I wanted to get to know the man.
I debated how to respond back to Brendan’s email for the rest of the week. I even considered emailing him my phone number. Let him be the one to call.
By the time the weekend rolled around, my enthusiasm about Brendan had turned to anxiety. I was feeling more like I had blown an opportunity.
One of my best friends, Angel Cade, had invited me to her son’s first birthday party. I sometimes babysat for the little tyke and was excited to see him reach this milestone. Back in the day, before Angel met the love of her life, Wes Cade, we used to hang out more often. Me, Angel and my other best friend, Toni Reed, were quite the threesome in high school. Now, both my BFFs had men. Toni was engaged with a wedding planned later this summer. I was happy for both of them that their Mr. Right had found them. I prayed one day I would experience the same reality. In the meantime, I guess I would settle with writing the perfect romance novel.
I’d come along quite nicely, finishing my first draft. I took a much needed break which meant I wasn’t visiting Southern Delights as often. I usually only visited the coffeehouse for inspiration. The down and dirty of rewriting I reserved for when I was rested and had a bit more quiet time on the weekend. I was determined to send the editor something she would love. Matters of the Heart would be published next spring, and that was something to be excited about.
When I arrived at the Cade’s house, barbecue smells wafted enticing my nose. While this was clearly a toddler’s birthday party, there were probably more adults at the house than children. As I made my way to the kitchen, I counted at least six children of varying ages. The only toddler in the bunch was Wes, Jr. who was in full force, giggling and pumping his little legs. He plowed right into me.
I reached down and picked up the little boy, “Happy birthday to you. You’re a happy little boy today, aren’t you?” I held him on my hip and walked back towards the kitchen.
Angel met me at the door, “Thank you for catching him. He’s wide open today and believe it or not, he hasn’t had any sugar yet.”
I laughed, “Wow. Well, at least he will sleep good tonight.” I handed Wes, Jr., who had started squirming, to his mother.
“I hope so.” Angel grabbed her son, “Thanks for coming to help. I haven’t heard from you since you’ve been in your writing cave. Are you finished?”
“Yes, I have a pretty decent rough draft. I decided to put it to the side today and actually do something social. So, how can I help?”
Angel turned, “Folks have been bringing dishes, which I appreciate, but I’m running out of room for them. Wes set up a table outside. I was thinking any food that would be okay outside, we can put on the table.”
“Sure, I can handle that.”
It took some maneuvering through the back door which seemed like a revolving door as children ran in and out. Wes strolled through carrying meat from the grill.
“Good to see you, Nia. Hey, I have someone for you to meet when you get a moment.”
“Oh, okay.” I hoped Wes wasn’t about to embark on a matchmaking venture. Everyone around me had tried to be a matchmaker.
Please don’t, people! Let a sister enjoy her singleness.
I arranged most of the dishes and was making sure there was enough serving utensils when I heard my name. At first, my mind felt confused.
I know that voice.
I turned and almost dropped the spoon in my hand. In what could only be described as a juggling act, I managed to not let the spoon hit the ground. I looked up to catch Brendan grinning at me.
He nodded his head, “Nice move. Sorry to scare you.”
“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t, um, expecting you.”
“I was a little surprised to see you too.” He handed me a familiar brown bag with handles and the Southern Delights logo on the side.
I exclaimed, “You brought the pie for Wes, Jr.’s birthday party.”
“Yeah, I knew Wes and Angel are fans of your aunt’s pies. They introduced me to the apple pie.”
“Oh.” I reached inside the bag and took out the pie, sitting it alongside the banana pudding. “How do you know Wes and Angel?”
“I went to school with Wes. We were roommates.”
“Really? Wow, small world. Angel is one of my oldest friends. We graduated from the same high school.”
We stared at each other for I don’t know how long. I was still a bit amazed to see him in person. I guess he was too. We’d only met inside of Southern Delights. He looked good, as usual, but today he was dressed down wearing jeans, a polo shirt and sneakers.
Is there anything this man doesn’t look good wearing?
Once again, I was self-conscious about what I was wearing. Thank goodness, I decided to wear a golden yellow sundress and sandals. The humidity was in full blast, so I could only hope my hair was still holding the style.
Behind me, I heard high-pitched shrieks and turned to see what looked like an army of children, but really only the few in attendance, stampede towards us. Why the excitement I didn’t know, but I felt Brendan’s hand on my arm. He maneuvered me out of the way just as the young'uns sprinted past us.
I placed my hand on my chest to calm my beating heart. “What was that about?”
Brendan laughed, “Wes just called out it’s time to eat. I guess they were hungry.”
“You’d think no has fed them for days the way they tore towards that door.”
“Why don’t we grab a p
late too?”
That sounded like a plan to me. We balanced heavy paper plates back towards a corner of the patio. In between eating, Brendan regaled me with college stories of him and Wes. Once again, I was pleasantly surprised with how comfortable I felt eating and talking with him. I could count the number of times I’d seen Brendan in person on one hand, but I felt like I’d known him a long time.
After most folks left, I helped Angel clean the kitchen while she put the birthday boy to bed. Brendan stopped in the kitchen, and without asking, he grabbed a dish towel and began drying dishes.
I commented, “This was fun.”
He nodded, “It was. I wanted to thank you again for sending me the writers’ resources. You had quite a list.”
“I hope it wasn’t too overwhelming.”
“No, I appreciate it.” He finished drying a serving dish and placed it on the counter. “I was kind of hoping you would call.”
I paused with my hands deep in the sudsy water. “You did give me your phone number, but I wasn’t sure. I know I should be the modern woman and know it’s okay to call a guy, still...”
He stepped up to the sink and raised his eyebrow. “That’s okay. Maybe you can share your number with me?”
I had no issue with that. I took my hands out of the water and reached for dish towel to dry them. “I can call you so you can add my number to your contacts.” While I hadn’t called him, I still had his business card tucked in the pocket of my phone holder.
Brendan’s phone rang after I dialed. He answered while looking at me and grinned, “Got it.”
I put my phone away as he tapped in my information.
He looked up after tucking his phone in his back pocket. “Since it seems we keep meeting each other, how about we go out on a real date?”
“That would be nice... Just as long as it’s not at my aunt’s coffeehouse,” I teased.
He threw his head back and laughed. “I believe I can do better than that. I got the feeling your aunt would want me to take you someplace else anyway. How about dinner next Friday?”