Page 48 of Meant to be Mine

Hollis: Reconsidered the coffee date yet? Layla keeps asking me if you’re a real person.

Hollis meant well. He wasn’t pushing this because he didn’t like Kensey. He was pushing it because he’d watched me go home alone to a very quiet house for the better part of a year. The only woman I wanted to have dinner with was ten feet away from me pretending not to care if I dated.

I wanted Kensey. That was the simple, inconvenient fact. I picked up my phone.

Me: Fine. Set it up. Coffee. Tomorrow at ten.

I pushed back from the desk and walked to the door. She looked up immediately, which meant she wasn’t as deep in the zone as the typing had suggested.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I took your advice,” I said.

“My advice?”

“Hollis’s friend. Coffee tomorrow at ten.”

“Yeah?” she said with a smile.

“Yep.”

I studied her face looking for anger. Jealousy. Hesitation.

I saw none of it.

She smiled again. Lots of teeth. “Good. That’s good, Drew. I’m glad.”

“Figured I’d rip the bandage off,” I said. “Get back out there. You know how it is.”

“Absolutely.” She nodded. “Where are you going?”

“Coffee. Neutral territory. Low stakes.”

“Smart.” She pointed at me with her pen. “No dinner for a first meeting. Coffee is the right call. You can be out in thirty minutes if it’s not working.”

“That’s exactly the plan.”

“Go in with an open mind. You might surprise yourself.” She wasn’t going to crack. She was going to sit there and be my friend and encourage me to go have coffee with a woman.

There was no reason to overthink what I was going to wear to coffee. Dark jeans. Blue button-up, and black boots. Good enough. I wasn’t going into the store first. I couldn’t see Kensey before I did this.

I walked into the small coffee shop that was supposed to look eclectic even though it’d been curated to look like that. It was a good choice for a first meeting because it was quiet. But I felt like I was cheating.

Kensey knew I was here. She had told me to come. She had practically packed my bag and walked me to the door. And I still felt like I was doing something wrong.

I saw a woman walk into the shop and scan the room the way people do when they’re looking for someone. Her eyes landed on me and she smiled. She was stunning. The kind of woman who walked into a room and people noticed. Tall, with dark hair pulled back. Shorts that showed off long, skinny legs. Very model-like.

Very not Kensey-like.

I stood and watched her walk toward me.

“Drew,” she said. “I’m Layla.”

“Layla.” I shook her hand. “Good to meet you. Sit down, please.”

She slid into the chair across from mine. Up close she was even better looking. And yet, she still wasn’t Kensey.

She was looking at me, sizing me up and finding me desirable. I wasn’t being arrogant when I acknowledged that was the usual assessment.