Page 16 of The Fixer

“You getting in, lady?” the cabbie called from the front seat, and I shook my head at him after another message came through.

Not Jethro: Rise and Grind. Go inside.

Rise and Grind, the coffee shop on the corner.

Following his instructions, I left the curb and walked inside, breathing in the warm scent of coffee and the mouthwatering smell of baked goods. Sunlight seeped in through the windows, lighting up every person in every seat at every table in the entire place. I peered around, trying to catch a glimpse of the tall, dark, and handsome man I’d talked with for hours the night before.

But he wasn’t there.

Something inside me deflated as I spun slowly in my place, slinking out of the way of customers coming in or going out. I turned to the door, tempted to stick my head outside and see if Jet was out there waiting for me, when a hiss behind the counter proceeded the call of a barista’s voice. “Order for Eliza.”

Spinning, I blinked at the counter, at the customers milling about. The few of them who didn’t have their noses buried in their phones were looking around, searching for Eliza.

“No. It can’t be.”

My phone buzzed once again, and I dragged it up from my side as if it were a heavy weight.

Not Jethro: Medium caramel latte and a bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich. Sit. Eat. Enjoy.

My feet carried me forward, guiding me past the line at the registers and the small crowd gathered at the counter waiting for their drinks. My hands grabbed the paper cup and bag with my name on them before my body guided me to an open table in the corner near the window.

I sat.

Blinked around the room.

Felt numb until the smell of bacon and coffee tugged me out of my head, and I looked down at the phone in my hand.

Me:

Every time I tapped out a word, a sentence, any kind of response, I deleted it. I felt both grateful and inadequate. Delighted and confused. I typed out the word “how” but before I could finish the thought, it all came rolling back.

“How do you take your coffee?” Jet asked, his silver eyes sparkling in the dying sunlight. He lifted his water glass to his lips and my eyes were drawn there.

“Usually with a bit of cream. But add a little caramel syrup and I’m happy as a clam.”

“Let me guess,” he said, setting his glass down and relaxing back in his chair, his long legs extended. Boxing me in without getting too close. “You like it with a chocolate chip muffin in the morning.”

Shaking my head, I fingered the napkin beside my plate, my fingernail digging into the ridges printed into the paper. “Chocolate and breakfast foods don’t mix. Now, I could eat a chocolate candy bar for breakfast and be fine, but chocolate donuts and muffins and cereal? No thanks.”

His chuckle rumbled through his chest, and it covered me like a blanket, smoothing across my skin as if it were silk. “So, no chocolate muffins?”

I scrunched my face up. “No. Breakfast should be something good for you. If I had time in the mornings, or, you know, if I could cook, I’d make bacon and eggs and toast. But I usually have a bowl of cereal—”

“No sugar?”

“Maybe just a little,” I said with a smile. “I can’t say I’m immune to certain children’s cereals. They make my heart feel young.”

Bacon and egg on sourdough toast. Coffee with caramel syrup. One of the best breakfasts I could ever have.

Me: Thank you.

Not Jethro: Enjoy your breakfast. Call me later and let me know how today goes.

Me: I will.

I stared at my phone, at the black, empty screen. Half of me wished Jet were there so we could pick up on the easy conversation we’d shared the night before. The other half…

The other half wasn’t sure what to think.