Love and Espresso

As a result, they are awkward around me. I can’t even blame them. In most places, I guess, I’d be the victim of lewd comments, judging glances, and sexual innuendo. But not in Elken Grove. Here, the townsfolk offer clumsy side-glances and full-on pity.

Take this morning, for example. As usual, I write the special on the board behind the cash register. Stretching my plump, short frame, I carefully chalk today’s special. It’s peanut bar day, a favorite of our customers. Can’t blame them. Together with the sprinkles of dark chocolate and gooey salted caramel, it’s a slice of heaven.

Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, regulars for their daily coffee and pastry, come in. Mrs. Hartley stares at the board as if seeing it for the first time. She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, reminding me of a carp. I’ve never seen a carp in real life, but this is how it must look. Mr. Hartley gently touches her arm and says to me, in a soothing voice, “We’ll have red velvet muffins, please, dear.”

There is nothing wrong with our red velvet muffins. But since when don’t the Hartleys jump at a chance to get the peanut bar?

Robin, the coffee shop’s owner, looks on, and once the Hartleys are at their usual table by the corner window, takes a closer look at the board. And that’s when I see it, too. “Peenut bar w/dark chocolate and caramel.”

Much less than missing out on a peanut bar, Mr. Hartley would miss a chance for a stupid sexual joke. Instead, he called me “dear” and almost patted my hand. That’s how the folks of Elken Grove treat me now. I know it’s meant to be considerate, but it’s wearing thin.

Robin, taller than me, swiftly erases the offending E.

“Gimme that,” I say. “Your handwriting should not be on promotional boards.”

Robin sighs in mock relief. “She’s talking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lately, you’ve seemed unfocused and unusually quiet. Don’t lose your spunk, girl.”

I huff. My spunk has long since faded. For months now, everybody in this town has felt entitled to discuss intensely private matters with me. Like how sad it was that the night both of Finn’s brothers got married ended this tragically: I finally got together with the man I’ve loved for years, and that’s when the thrift store under my apartment caught fire and the building burned down. We had to jump from the second-floor window, stark naked. Finn badly injured his leg and was whisked away to the hospital and rehab. I haven’t seen him since, haven’t even gotten in touch with him. He’s got memory issues, and the doctor insisted on complete rest and no contact unless he initiates it. Which he hasn’t, but for a few texts. I know he hates writing, and his texts showed that he cared about me, but were disappointingly friendly. He is his usual carefree self, only he doesn’t remember anything about the night of his accident. Which includes having had sex with me.

But Robin is right, I’m letting myself go. I suppress a sigh and resolve to fake it until I make it. I snatch the chalk. “I’m sorry, I’ll just redo the board.”

Robin looks unconvinced. That’s what you get when you’re friends with your boss: well-meant meddling.

Meghan comes in and rattles off her order for the hardware store. As I make her coffees, and we chat about the unusually mild, but rainy March weather, I feel almost normal. When she leaves, she passes a grinning Patty Winslow in the door. My heart starts beating like a drum. I haven’t seen Finn’s mother this happy since before the night of the fire, so maybe she’s bringing good news. Perhaps I finally will be able to talk to Finn.

Patty comes straight for me. She takes my hands in hers and, with tears in her eyes, announces, “He’s coming home. He just called from the road.” A sob escapes her. “He’ll be home this afternoon.”

My knees weaken and tears well up, but my face breaks into the biggest grin ever. He’s coming home!

Patty looks around at the customers present. The Hartleys are here, and Mr. Vance is—they are the biggest gossips in town. Soon everyone will know that Finn is returning.

With a loud voice to make sure everybody hears, she declares, “I spoke with the doctor again, and he stressed how crucial it is for Finn to remember that night on his own. No one is to tell him. He needs to remember by himself.”

I’ve never understood that. Don’t doctors usually encourage patients meeting their friends and family? Talking about what happened? This feels wrong, but my formal education ended when I left high school, so I wouldn’t know anything about amnesia but for what I’ve read about since that night.

Patty turns back to me. “I’m sorry, dear. You’ll have to be patient a little longer. But the doctor is confident that, if you really matter to him, Finn will remember sooner or later.”

What if he doesn’t? Am I not important enough to be remembered?

How can I possibly tell him we’re having a baby when I’m not allowed to remind him we’ve had sex?.

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About the author

Ella writes sweet’n’steamy romances that are meant to provide short vacations from your everyday life. She loves to read, mostly romances, of course, and to putter around in her backyard, forever trying to turn it into a blooming garden. She’s got a dog who is helping greatly with all the garden work by supervising everything Ella does and—for the most part—not digging up her flowers.

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Other books by Ella Braeme

Elken Grove Mountain Men

Butting Heads with Her Mountain Man
Her Rock Star Mountain Man
Knocked Up by the Mountain Man in the Love and Espresso anthology

Heroes of Elken Grove

Bivouacked With Clint in the Beyond Courage anthology
Way to Start the New Year in the Winter Wishes and Holiday Kisses anthology
Christmas Newbie in the Nice Until Proven Naughty anthology

Married in Windfall

Nice Enough
Anyone at Hand
Someone I Chose
Santa’s Proposal ← free with sign-up
Married in Windfall (the entire series available as paperback)