Chapter 9
1371 Words
Rowan took a seat at the small table near the window, sunlight catching in his hair as he wrapped both hands around his cup. Charlie joined him a moment later, perching on the edge of the chair like she might bolt at any second.
She eyed him. Then his coffee. “You know,” she said, “if this is terrible, I’m legally obligated to pretend it’s your fault.”
His brow lifted. “Is that how it works?”
“Absolutely. I only take responsibility for the excellent ones.”
A soft laugh slipped out of him—low, surprised. Genuine.
Charlie relaxed a notch. “See? That’s the sound of someone who’s already forgiven me.”
“I haven’t even tried it yet.”
“Optimism,” she said. “It’s a rare quality.”
He took a sip, considering her over the rim. “It’s good.”
She grinned, quick and sharp. “I know.”
The ease of it startled her. Words came without effort, the edge she usually carried turning playful instead of defensive.
“So,” she said, tilting her head, “do you always walk into cafés like you’re about to deliver bad news, or was today special?”
Rowan laughed again, this time fuller, shaking his head. “I’ll work on my approach.”
“Please don’t,” she said lightly. “It’s very effective. Half the room stopped breathing.”
He glanced around, amused. “Only half?”
“Generous estimate.”
Something warm settled between them, the conversation flowing easily—small things at first. The shop, the regulars, her hatred of people who ordered oat milk and complained about the taste. Rowan listened more than he spoke, but when he did, it was with dry humour that caught her off guard.
At one point she caught herself smiling without meaning to.
That was new.
Rowan leaned back slightly, eyes bright with something lighter now. “You do this on purpose, don’t you?”
“Do what?”
“Make bad days less sharp.”
Charlie scoffed. “Trust me, I’m usually much worse.”
He studied her for a moment, that intensity tempered by amusement. “I find that hard to believe.”
She met his gaze, humour still in place—but something softer underneath it.
For the first time in a long while, laughing didn’t feel like armour.
It felt like relief.
Charlie was about to speak—something dry and ridiculous about customers who treated the café like a confessional—when movement behind Rowan caught her eye.
Mia stood a few feet away. She caught Charlie’s gaze.
Then her eyebrows shot straight up.
Mia mouthed silently, Oh. My. God.
Charlie felt heat rush to her face. She shot Mia a warning look, sharp and immediate.
Mia grinned and very deliberately mouthed, Eyebrow guy.
Charlie closed her eyes for half a second, exhaling through her nose. Do not, she mouthed back, barely moving her lips.
She wandered over with the casual confidence of someone who absolutely intended to make this worse, a bright smile already in place. Charlie shot her a warning look that said do not you dare.
Mia ignored it completely.
“Hey,” Mia said cheerfully, sliding into the empty chair beside Charlie. “I didn’t realise you were on break.”
Charlie’s jaw tightened. “I’m not.”
Rowan turned then, polite and calm. “I’m sorry—did I steal her?”
Mia laughed. “Oh no, please. She needs stealing.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Mia.”
Rowan stood to shake it, manners impeccable. “Rowan.”
Mia’s eyebrows twitched upward—just once—but she recovered quickly. “Nice to meet you, Rowan.”
Mia released Rowan’s hand and turned back to Charlie, all business now—at least on the surface.
“So,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table, “are the plans for Anna’s bachelorette party finalised, or do you need help?”
Charlie blinked. Once. Twice.
Of all the times to be organised.
“They’re… mostly finalised,” she said carefully. “Why?”
Mia tilted her head, eyes bright with interest. “Because if you haven’t booked everything yet, I can help. You know—activities, transport, making sure no one ends up arrested.”
“That only happened once,” Charlie muttered.
Rowan glanced between them, clearly entertained. “I feel like there’s a story there.”
“There isn’t,” Charlie and Mia said at the same time.
Mia grinned. “There absolutely is.”
“Accommodation and transport are booked. Itinerary’s set,” Charlie said, ticking it off on her fingers. Then she looked up at Mia, eyes narrowing slightly. “We end the night at Grey’s. That’s all you need to know for now.”
There was a half-second of silence.
Then Mia squealed.
She clapped her hands together, bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’d just been handed the best secret in the world. “Grey’s? Oh my God, Charlie—yes.”
Charlie grimaced. “Lower your voice.”
“No,” Mia whispered loudly, eyes shining. “Absolutely not.”
Rowan chuckled under his breath, clearly entertained. “Should I be concerned?”
Charlie shot him a look. “You should be grateful you’re not invited.”
Mia gasped, affronted. “Rude. Also—” she leaned in toward Rowan conspiratorially “—Grey’s is legendary.”
Charlie groaned. “And that’s enough information for today.”
Mia straightened, still grinning, and gave Charlie a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “You’re a genius. Anna’s going to lose her mind.”
“She already is,” Charlie muttered.
But there was a faint smile tugging at her mouth—and for once, she didn’t bother hiding it.
Mia gave Charlie one last excited look, then turned back toward the counter. “I’ll text you later,” she said, already halfway gone.
“Don’t,” Charlie replied automatically.
Mia laughed and waved anyway, heading for Adrian.
He stood up as she approached, irritation written all over him. Whatever charm he’d come in with had long since evaporated. He cast a dark look back toward Charlie and Rowan, jaw tight.
Mia slipped her arm through his, unfazed. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” Adrian grunted.
That was it. No smile. No warmth. Just a clipped goodbye tossed over his shoulder in Charlie’s direction—more obligation than courtesy.
Charlie didn’t respond. She just watched them go, unimpressed.
The bell chimed as the door closed behind them.
And when she looked back at Rowan, the bad day felt a little less heavy than it had an hour ago.
Gaz came waddling over, clipboard tucked under one arm, concern etched across his face.
“Miss Charlie. Sorry for the interruption,” he said apologetically. “The dough delivery’s here, but it seems short.”
Charlie closed her eyes for half a second.
Of course it was.
She pushed herself up from the chair slowly, every movement reluctant, like she was stepping away from something she didn’t quite want to leave yet. She turned to Rowan, offering him a small, genuine smile.
“Duty calls,” she said. “Thank you… for the conversation. It was nice.”
Nice felt wildly inadequate.
Rowan stood as well, his expression open—just for a moment—before something carefully controlled slid back into place. The disappointment was there if you knew how to look, quickly masked by that calm, steady smile.
“The pleasure was mine,” he said.
The way he said her name made her pause.
“Charlie.”
Not rushed. Not casual. Like he was committing it to memory.
A quiet warmth spread through her chest, unexpected and unsettling.
She nodded once, because lingering any longer felt dangerous. “Enjoy the rest of your coffee.”
His eyes held hers. “I will.”
Charlie turned toward the counter, heart thudding a little too hard, acutely aware of his gaze following her as she walked away.
And behind her, Rowan watched her go—smiling faintly, already knowing this was only the beginning.
- Writer
