Page 12 of Big Girl Panties

"Well, to start, he didn't ask for my phone number."

"Did you ask for his?"

I paused, coffee scoop halfway to the grinder. "That's a thing people do?"

"Oh, honey. We need to get you a dating manual. Or at least a basic handbook on human interaction."

"I've never had to do this. I'm a little out of practice, I guess."

"Did you guys hit it off?"

I smiled. "Yeah, kind of, or I thought we did, but I don't know. I kind of got the impression that he doesn't really date. Like maybe he's a one-night stand kind of guy." I flipped on the grinder and had to shout over the noise. "WHICH IS FINE BECAUSE I'M CLEARLY NOT RELATIONSHIP MATERIAL!"

I didn't believe that he was a one-night stand guy, or maybe he was, and I wasn't his type. Shit… I don't know what I believed.

Kali winced, and I turned off the grinder. "The whole neighborhood heard that."

"Good. Let them know I'm available and emotionally stable." I flicked a glance at my watch. "You better go. You'll be late for class."

"Right, because one of us should have our life together." She dusted her hands off on her fluorescent pink apron that complemented our matching pink high-top Converse. "Try not to scare away any customers with your post-divorce glow."

"It's called freedom, thank you very much."

"It's called mascara under your eyes, but sure."

She untied the apron, then removed it and dropped it onto the stainless steel table. "I'll be back around noon, after class. You should have everything you need for the morning rush, and there are more blueberry muffins in the oven."

"You're the best." My phone buzzed just as the door chimed behind her. One glance at the screen made my stomach drop faster than my credit rating.

Chris.

For a wild moment, I considered letting it go to voicemail, blocking his number, and maybe changing my identity entirely. Instead, I did what any rational, mature adult would do: I answered it and immediately regretted every decision that had led to this moment.

"Hello," I sighed into the phone, already feeling my blood pressure spike.

"Brooke." His voice had that familiar edge that used to make me want to hide in the pantry. "We need to talk."

"Chris, we're divorced. The only thing we need to talk about is how to never talk again."

"You need to call your father…"

"Nope!" I cut him off with the enthusiasm of someone who'd finally found their spine. "All of whatever you're about to say is a you problem."

I hung up with a flourish that would have made dramatic heroines everywhere proud.

The café felt suddenly peaceful, filled with the gentle hum of machinery and the promise of a day that belonged entirely to me. For the first time in years, I was exactly where I wanted to be: covered in flour, caffeinated beyond reason, and completely, beautifully free to make my own mistakes.

Starting, perhaps, with learning how to ask for phone numbers.

Chapter 5

The Perfect Blend

Stepping into the small café, the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee sifted through the air, and a hint of cinnamon and baked goods lingered.

"How can I…" She trailed off when her eyes met mine. "Matt?" My lips lifted into a smile. "What are you doing here?"

I tried to lean casually against the counter, but my elbow slipped off the edge. "Oh, you know. Just finished my morning workout." I gestured vaguely toward the door. "Needed some… Coffee."