揌abits are for drunks. Coffee is life.?She spreads her arms and waves affectionately at the lab-like kitchen. 揧ou抮e not looking at a simple hobby. One day, everything I抳e cooked up here will be the backbone of Liza抯 Love.?
揥hen you open Liza抯 Love, I promise I抣l read my poetry on open mic night.?
揈very night will be open mic night.?She wags a finger like it抯 already written in stone.
揋reat. Then I抣l be there every night and you抣l still be feeding me like a hobo who just lost her last poker game.?
Laughing, she heads into the kitchen and pours coffee into three tiny glasses, then piles a plate high with scones. She sets the tiny coffee cups and scones down on the bar separating the kitchen from the living room.
揟ell me your favorite,?she demands.
I take a fortifying gulp of the first one and wrinkle my nose. 揙of. That just tastes like…coffee. Needs a little sweetener.?
She scowls at me.
I hold up my hands defensively and then sip the second one.
揙h, my, that抯 lovely,?I mutter, feeling foamy sweetness dancing on my tongue.
揥hat do you taste??She watches me excitedly, her hands clasped in front of her.
揤anilla. Sweet stuff. A little cream. Almost like…a cake flavor??
Eliza smiles and nods like an approving teacher.
I clear my mouth with water, then take a pull off the third cup, smacking my lips.
揌mm. Cinnamon??
揂nd pecan.?She nods.
揑nteresting mix,?I say, smacking my lips lightly. 揟he second was my favorite, I think.?
揑抣l pour you a full mug of birthday cake coffee. Cream and sugar??
揓ust cream.?
Eliza opens a cabinet, pulls out a normal-sized mug, and sets to work making my drink to order.
I pick up an oversized blueberry scone from the plate and take a bite.
As always, it抯 delicious, and I抦 starving. I start stuffing my face like a back-alley raccoon before I even notice.
This entire day has been carb-central, and I抦 adding to my thighs.
Worth it.
I抳e also been keeping the mail I brought up with me this whole time. I pull out envelopes and sort through them in more detail, keeping that last one at the end like the poison ivy leaf it is.
The return address is Dickinson, North Dakota.
Too close for comfort. Too close to my hometown of Dallas梐 dusty little northern oil town with too many bad memories tainting the good times. It抯 a place where everyone has a magical love story except me.
揥hat is it??Eliza says, noticing the frown on my face.
I shake my head.
揙h, nothing.?I drop the letters in my lap and pick up the steaming mug Eliza set down next to me.
揔ing Idiot again??
?maybe.?I pick up the mug and take another sip of Eliza抯 sublime brew, warming my soul. I slide the letter across the bar. 揟oss it for me??
揝ure thing! You sure you don抰 want to read it first??
For a second, I hesitate. But whatever heartless apology or validation seeking thing my ex sent can抰 be worth the grief. Especially not today.
揘ope. Shoot your shot,?I tell her, slurping my coffee loudly.
Grinning, she crumples the letter into a messy ball and chucks it into the pink crate with glittery stripes across the room she uses for recycling.
揝core!?She pours herself a celebratory coffee and sits beside me.
揈liza, I say this gently, but…I don抰 think you need more coffee.?I pat her shoulder.
揂nd we don抰 blaspheme in this house.?
I laugh. 揥ill you even sleep tonight??
She picks up a scone and takes a wolfish bite.
揈ventually. How was your day? Besides the working zombie hours and getting a letter from King Idiot, I mean??
揝ame day, different…asshole.?I carefully add that last word, remembering my morning spat at Sweeter Grind. 揂ctually, that抯 not exactly true. I ran into a real weirdo at Sweeter Grind this morning棓
揙h??Eliza抯 brows shoot up. 揇id he follow you? Did he try to棓
揧es, he followed. But no. Not the typical harassment like you抮e thinking. He had a mantrum梐 man tantrum梑ecause I was ahead of him in line and snagged the last Regis roll.?
揑 mean, can you blame him? Regis rolls are God.?
For a second, I burst out laughing. If Eliza could build herself an altar of baked offerings like the crazy little coffee Pagan she is, I抦 sure there抎 be a freaking Regis roll in the center.
揧eah, but get this,?I say. 揟his dude flips his lid when he finds out the last one just sold out. He yells at the barista and then he tries to buy my roll.?
揥hat??She doubles over laughing, her eyes scrunching up in this funny way that makes me join her.
揙h, wow. You should抳e given him some jacked up price just to see if he抎 take it. You could have had a nice payday!?
I purse my lips.
揥ell…he started bidding. He got up to five hundred dollars without any prompting on my part.?
揌e梬hat??Her mouth falls open. 揧ou抮e not joking? Let me get this straight. So some rando at Sweeter Grind bids five hundred dollars for a cinnamon roll? Holy crap. You scored the jackpot! I抎 be feasting at Le Panier for a week if I had your devil抯 luck.?
揌ere抯 the thing.?I take another slow bite of scone and chew, questioning my sanity. 揑 didn抰 take it.?
Eliza抯 eyes almost pop out of her head. She slaps her thigh so hard her coffee rattles.
揘o way! Why??
揃ecause. This guy needed a serving of humble pie. He comes clomping in looking like a model in a three-piece suit and demands the last cinnamon roll in the shop just because he抯 breathing? Because he抯 rich? I don抰 even know, there抯 just something seriously borked about that. Someone had to teach him a lesson.?
揢h huh. And you, Miss Poe, just happened to notice his suit.?
I open my mouth to fire back but the words won抰 come.
揇akota. You passed up five Benjamins and the chance to hate-flirt with a hot rich guy, and now you抣l never see him again??Eliza reaches out and gently flicks her fingers against my forehead. 揂re you sure you抮e okay? Like, are you sure Edgar Allan抯 craziness isn抰 hereditary??
揙h, please. We抮e super distantly related.?I roll my eyes. 揂lso, he wasn抰 flirting. He was pretty horrible. He kept stalking me as he upped his offers, so what else could I do? I took a huge bite of the roll right in front of him just so he抎 get it through his Neanderthal skull that he抯 not, under any circumstances, buying my roll. Being rich doesn抰 make you God.?
She shrugs.
揑 mean, I抣l give you an A in ethics. No lie, I would抳e taken the five hundred bucks, though.?She flashes an awkward smile.
揑t was mighty tempting, but this guy needed a lesson. Trust me.?
揥hy did you just have to be the one to teach him??
I shrug.
揃ecause I could.?I sigh. 揙kay, because I had fun with it. I needed to brighten up my day.?
揙h, right. I forgot you抮e coming up on a year since…yeah.?Her face softens. 揧ou had a bad day and a pastry-obsessed psycho was an easy target. It doesn抰 matter, lady. Any idiot who pays that much for a cinnamon roll would regret it. I抦 sure you抣l never see him again and you saved him five hundred dollars. Tomorrow抯 a new day. You抣l feel better.?
揑 hope you抮e right,?I say glumly.
揑s there any chance you could wake up more pissed??She blinks at me.
揈liza, no,?I say, laughing.
揙kay, cool. There you have it, then. Tomorrow has to be better because it can抰 get worse.?
揑t抯 already a lot better with these scones in my belly,?I tell her, finishing my last bite.