Coffee, Lies, and a Limo Ride
1377 Words
Chapter Four: Coffees, Lies, and a Limo Ride
It was a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman in possession of a double life must, at some point, suffer a coffee-related crisis.
Alissa stood at the entrance of Brew & Bloom Café, peering into the softly lit interior like it was a war zone. Inside, her coworkers from the gallery laughed over cappuccinos and banana bread, utterly oblivious to the quiet chaos in her mind.
She had agreed—foolishly, stupidly agreed—to a casual Saturday outing. Casual. Like she could ever do casual anymore. Not with Asher’s eyes burning holes in her memory and the weight of her disappearing mask heavy in her purse.
She tugged her oversized sweater closer, shoved her sunglasses farther up her nose, and practiced a smile in the reflection of the bakery display.
It looked like indigestion.
Great.
“Alissaaa!”
Maya waved her over like she was hailing a bus, nearly knocking over her vanilla latte. “You came! You actually came!”
“I live for coffee and gossip,” Alissa replied dryly as she sat, carefully keeping her face angled away from the sun pouring through the window.
“We were just talking about the gala,” chimed in Kemi, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Some mystery girl stole the show. Asher looked... captivated.”
Alissa made a choking sound.
Maya handed her a napkin. “Too soon?”
She laughed it off, pretending to wipe her mouth while internally screaming. The mask may have come off, but the consequences were still very much on.
The barista called her name and she escaped to the counter for her drink like it was a lifeline. The café was buzzing—plants hanging from every corner, fairy lights twinkling even though it was noon, and indie music setting a false sense of peace.
She picked up her cup.
“Alissa?”
The voice behind her sent her soul jumping straight into the espresso machine.
No. No, no, no.
She turned around slowly, half-expecting a camera crew to jump out yelling Gotcha!
“Asher?” she said with an almost-convincing smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”
He raised a brow. “I could say the same. You don’t really strike me as a banana bread girl.”
“Everyone’s full of surprises,” she replied, clutching her latte like a shield.
His eyes twinkled. “Are they?”
He hadn’t brought up the necklace.
Yet.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
Alissa glanced back at her table. Maya and Kemi were pretending not to stare, failing spectacularly.
She shrugged. “Sure. It’s a free country.”
Asher sat, placing his black Americano on the table like it was an extension of his mood.
“So,” he said, after a beat of silence. “About the other night.”
Boom.
Her latte betrayed her and sloshed over the rim.
“I was drunk,” she said quickly.
“You weren’t.”
She blinked. “Okay, tipsy.”
“Alissa.”
She sighed. “Look, I get it. You saw someone that night. You think it was me. It wasn’t.”
“You had the same necklace.”
“It’s a common design.”
“You spoke the same way.”
“I’m very copyable.”
“You ran from me like I was the plague.”
“Social anxiety.”
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You’re lying.”
She hated how that didn’t feel like an accusation.
He leaned back, smiling softly. “But I’m not here to out you. I just wanted to see if you’d be honest.”
Silence.
And then Maya’s voice broke through the moment like a wrecking ball.
“We’re going to the rooftop art walk! Alissa, come with us! Asher, you too!”
Alissa blinked. “What now?”
“Rooftop. Art. Walk. Downtown. Fun.”
Asher grinned. “Sounds like an oddly specific party.”
“You in?” Maya asked, eyes wide.
Alissa looked at Asher. Looked at her friends. Looked at her life unraveling like cheap thread.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s make bad decisions.”
---
The Rooftop Art Walk:
Apparently, bad decisions looked like a converted car garage filled with neon installations, saxophone music, and way too many men in turtlenecks.
Alissa tried not to scream as she caught Asher looking at her again. It wasn’t the flirty kind of look. It was worse.
It was curious.
“So you really like art,” he said, brushing against her elbow.
“I work in a gallery.”
“That doesn’t mean you like it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Some people hide in places they think they belong. Doesn’t mean they feel it.”
She wanted to shove him off the roof.
Instead, she turned to the nearest sculpture.
“Behold,” she said. “A recycled toaster painted neon green.”
Asher laughed.
It made her chest ache.
And then everything tilted.
Because out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone.
No. Not someone.
Him.
The reason she wore the mask in the first place.
Her ex.
Dressed in a velvet blazer, holding the arm of a dazzling woman, and laughing like he hadn’t torn her world apart.
Alissa froze.
“Everything okay?” Asher asked.
She smiled too widely. “I just remembered I left my stove on.”
“You don’t cook.”
“I meant my iron.”
“You’re wearing wrinkle-free.”
She turned to him. “Do you want me to run?”
“No,” he said, surprising her. “But I get it. We all have ghosts.”
He didn’t look at her. He looked at the man. Then back at her.
“Is he your ghost?”
“Worse,” she said. “He was my everything.”
Asher nodded slowly.
And then, without warning, he grabbed her hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Something dumb.”
He walked toward the ex like they were old friends and Alissa was the hottest date of the night.
Her heart pounded.
“Asher—”
“Trust me.”
And then he said it.
“Asher Devlin. And this is Alissa, my girlfriend.”
Her what?!
The ex blinked.
“Oh. I didn’t know Alissa was dating again.”
Asher smiled. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”
Alissa nearly fainted. She plastered a grin and reached for Asher’s hand like it was the only thing keeping her from spontaneous combustion.
The woman on the ex’s arm giggled. “Isn’t this fun?”
“Oh, a riot,” Alissa said through gritted teeth.
---
Aftermath:
They escaped to the limo waiting outside the venue—Asher’s idea. He claimed it was for dramatic effect. Alissa claimed he was a drama queen.
“You called me your girlfriend.”
“I panicked.”
“You don’t panic!”
“I do when I see pain on someone’s face who doesn’t deserve it.”
She stared at him.
His voice was quiet. “I know what it’s like to lose something. Someone. I thought maybe pretending for a second could help you win a moment.”
Her voice softened. “That was... strangely poetic.”
“Thank you. I rehearse in the mirror.”
She laughed. Actually laughed.
It felt like air after drowning.
But then his expression changed. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
He pulled something from his coat pocket.
It was the mask.
“I found this in your bag the night of the gala. I’ve been carrying it around, wondering if you’d ever tell me the truth.”
She stared at it.
Her breath caught.
“I wasn’t ready.”
“I know.”
She reached for it, but he didn’t let go.
“Alissa… are you still pretending?”
The limo slowed.
Outside, flashi
ng lights. Paparazzi?
“Did you tell someone where we were going?”
“No,” Asher said, eyes narrowing.
The door opened.
And a figure stepped in.
Not paparazzi.
Not Maya.
But someone she never expected to see again.
Her sister.
Who was supposed to be missing.
- Writer
