The café was exactly the same as I remembered. Not even the paintings hanging on the walls had been swapped out.
Victor sat in the innermost booth by the window, two cups of coffee set on the table in front of him. One was an americano, the other a latte. The latte was for me. Guess he still had a decent memory, remembering my order after all this time.
He’d lost a lot of weight, dark circles bruised under his eyes, but he was still as handsome as ever. He wore a dark blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair was a little longer than the last time we’d met, messy and unstyled, which gave him an indescribable, unpolished vibe.
Once upon a time, that face was what I loved most about him.
I slid into the seat across from him, and didn’t reach for the latte set out for me.
H
