4. CHAPTER FOUR
1021 Words
"Is it a man?" June asked in an excited and curious manner.
Irene paused.
One second too long.
"OH MY GOD IT'S A MAN!" June shrieked.
"June, keep your voice down—" Irene replied.
"I live alone, there is no one to keep it down FOR!" June said. "Tell me everything. Right now. Every single detail. Leave nothing out. I mean it, Irene, I will come to Belfast in my pyjamas right now" she added.
"He's just a customer," Irene said quickly.
A pause.
Then — "Go on." June said.
Irene sighed. And then slowly, she told her everything. The first day. The twenty pounds. The way he said her name like he already knew it mattered. The three days she'd spent sneaking glances at the café door like something was wrong with her. And then today — the two coffees, the five minutes, the conversation that felt nothing like talking to a stranger should feel.
June was silent the entire time.
Which, for June, was basically a miracle.
When Irene finished, she waited.
"June?" Irene called.
"I'm here." June's voice was surprisingly soft. "I'm just...." Then — "IRENE. THIS MAN ORDERED TWO COFFEES JUST TO GET YOU TO SIT DOWN?!" She screamed.
The softness lasted four seconds exactly.
"That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my entire LIFE" June added.
"It wasn't romantic, it was just—"
"Sit with me."
June was already doing a dramatic impression. "One word. Just like that?!"
"Juneee" Irene said trying to get June's voice down.
"I would have sat down so fast—" June said
"JUNE." Irene replied.
"Okay. Okay okay." A breath. The sound of June sinking into her couch. "Real talk?"
"Please."
"When is the last time someone made your heart pound like that?" June asked.
Irene didn't answer. She didn't need to.
"That's what I thought," June said quietly. "I'm not saying marry the man. I'm just saying… don't run. Not this time."
Irene stared at the ceiling.
"He said same time tomorrow," she admitted.
June screamed.
Not a small scream. A full, complete, unhinged scream of joy that made Irene pull the phone away from her ear and laugh — really laugh — for the first time in what felt like weeks.
"GO!" June ordered. "Go tomorrow! Sit down! Drink the coffee! LIVE YOUR LIFE, IRENE!"
"It's average coffee, June."
"I don't CARE if it tastes like dishwater — you go sit at that table!"
Irene was still smiling when she finally said goodnight and hung up.
The room was quiet again.
But lighter somehow.
She closed her eyes.
Same time tomorrow.
Maybe.
Friday came quickly.
The café was fuller than usual for a 2 PM crowd. The kind of busy that kept Irene moving, kept her head down, kept her from thinking too much.
Which was exactly what she needed.
She told herself that a total of four times before noon.
By 1:45pm, she had somehow started glancing at the door again.
You're hopeless, she thought.
At exactly 2:07pm, the door opened.
And she knew before she even looked up.
The same calm energy. The same unhurried steps. Dark coat, dark hair, those sharp brown eyes doing a quiet sweep of the room before landing as if there was never any other option on her.
He walked straight to table eight.
Same seat. Window side.
Irene took a slow breath and picked up her notepad.
"You came back," she said softly when she reached him, keeping her voice even.
"I was passing by," he said.
She gave him a flat look.
He gave her nothing back. Perfectly straight-faced.
"Sure you were," she said. "The usual?"
"Please." He replied.
She turned to go.
"You look nice today," he said quietly behind her.
Irene kept walking.
But her grip tightened on the notepad.
The thing was — and Irene would never say this out loud — she hadn't done anything differently that morning.
Same uniform. Same low bun with a few strands falling loose around her face the way they always did by midday. Same minimal everything.
But she was the kind of woman that certain things just… worked on naturally.
Standing at 5'8, she moved through a room with a quiet ease she wasn't even aware of. Slender, but with soft curves that her uniform couldn't completely hide — the kind of figure that didn't ask for attention but caught it anyway. Her skin was smooth and even, her eyes dark and careful, always watching more than she was letting on.
She was beautiful in the way that crept up on you.
The kind you noticed, then kept noticing.
Chris had noticed on day one.
He just hadn't stopped.
When she brought the coffee over, he was looking out the window when she set it down.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, not turning yet.
"You're going to anyway," she replied.
He turned then. And there was that almost-smile again.
"Do you work every day?"
"Most days," she said.
"Days off?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Just asking." He replied.
"You're never just asking," she said.
He looked at her for a moment.
Then he reached into his coat pocket and slid his phone across the table toward her, a new contact screen already open.
Irene stared at it.
Then at him.
"In case I need to check your schedule," he said simply.
She let out a short, quiet laugh despite herself.
"In case I need to check your schedule."
Smooth. Ridiculous. But somehow it worked.
She picked up the phone, typed in her number, and slid it back without a word.
He looked at it. Then at her.
"Thank you, Irene."
The way he said her name still did something unfair to her chest.
She turned and walked away before her face could betray her, blushing all the way back to the counter.
Chris finished his coffee and winked at Irene while exiting the café. Irene was clearly blushing which her manager Tom noticed but didn't say a word.
Chris texted Irene that same evening.
And just like that, everything changed...
- Writer
