Tamina

My break ended, and despite all my stalling, I barely had any time before returning to the counter. When I arrive in the miniature hallway that leads to behind the till, Gabriel has his back to me as he engages with a customer.

Maylene shuffles past, offering a quick greeting as she scurries off for her break.

Meanwhile, I slip behind Gabriel and say loud enough for him to hear, "I did it."

When he twists to find me, there's a beaming grin. I'm surprised when he slings an arm around my shoulders, but the act is comforting, and dare I say it, rewarding. When Gabriel's here, it doesn't feel like we're at work; rather, it feels like two friends hanging out.

"I'm proud of you," he cheers, letting go as he regards me a moment longer. "Have you got a date or time?"

The curiosity is practically visible and eating away at him, judging by the sparkle in his eyes. Putting him out of his misery, I recall Brandon's response and divulge the conclusion.

"Actually. . . he's meeting me after work today." I rub my arms, biting my lip to fend off the smile wanting out. "I'm meeting him by the bookshop, but—" I look up at him, doubt coiling low in my stomach as I shift from one foot to the other. "Do you think I made the right decision?"

He bumps my side with his elbow while handing me a cloth so I can help wipe down the length of the counter with him.

"Who knows?" He shrugs in my peripheral. "You can always tell after meeting him—I mean, try not to worry about the things that could go wrong, but think about what could go right."

I can't help but laugh, but I admire his confidence. "How are you so confident?"

Gabriel chuckles. "If it helps, I'm not."

There's a distinct sigh, and this time, I swivel to face him, but he carries on wiping even though I'm sure he's finished.

"Once, I was certain the day ahead of me was going to be bad, and what could have gone right turned out bad because I had been dwelling on it," he explains. There's a sheepish gleam to his features. "It can be a hard habit to get out of, but after some time and practice, it gets easier."

If it weren't for Gabriel, I would be in a slump all day thinking about it. I know for sure I wouldn't have given Brandon a quick answer.

This café is lucky to have him—

"Hello?" a soft voice greets from behind.

Pivoting on my heels, an elderly lady beams up at me, her leopard-print purse sitting on top of the counter.

"Good afternoon, how can I help you?" I return, matching her smile while making sure my hair is firmly tied.

Her big blue eyes shift from side to side before returning to me. "Can I have a caramel latte?" Propping her walking stick against the wall, she adjusts it until it remains upright. "And a hazelnut latte, please."

Bobbing my head to her request, I key the order into the till. "Would you like them to be a medium or a large?"

Her cheeks puff up, enhancing the sweet crow's feet edging her eyes. "Medium, my dear, and can I have cream on those?"

"Of course. Gabe, one medium caramel latte, one medium hazelnut latte, both with cream when you're ready," I direct over my shoulder, catching him shuffling behind me as he grins.

"On it, boss."

Chuckling, I turn back to the woman grinning up at us. "I didn't realise you were the boss," she muses.

I shake my head hastily as I fumble over my words, doing my best to get myself out of the pickle. "O-oh, not at all! Our boss is on holiday; Gabriel is stepping in for the time being."

She makes an 'ah' sound, and I'm relieved she understands. There's no way I would ever be a boss.

"That's good, then. For a second, I thought that loud one was the manager. Thank goodness she's not."

My brows furrow as I try to figure out who she means, and when realisation sinks in, Gabriel is trying to hide his laughter behind me.

"Oh, my. . . I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so rude." There's a slight frown on her crinkled lips.

Thank God Jasmine isn't here to hear this, or we'd all be in trouble.

I offer a reassuring smile, pleased to see her features relax once she notices. "It's fine, we understand," I say, just in time to catch Gabriel muttering something about Jasmine being the Devil incarnate. "Anyway, moving on, that's four pounds and thirty-five pence when you're ready."

She empties the contents of her purse; the coins clatter on impact, and a bus ticket rolls out. That instantly returns to where it came from, but the coins she graciously slides across the counter hiss against the surface.

"Sorry, dear, I hope that's alright?" She moistens her lips, inclining her head toward the money. "I'm trying to collect a certain fifty-pence coin for my husband."

Waving a hand, I fish out the change she's been seeking. "No problem at all, ma'am. Is there anything else we can do for you today?"

Her eyes brighten, as if she can't believe I ever asked. "Only if it isn't any trouble, could you write 'Happy Anniversary, Benjamin' on the front of his cup with two kisses, please?" She points over to Gabriel, who is still working his magic. "It will be the hazelnut latte."

Even though it's a small gesture, it's a massive message.

"Of course, coming right up."

Using a napkin to dab at the perspiration beading at my temple, I throw it into the bin beneath the counter, even though the steam never relents.

If it weren't for the sooty brown walls, the heat wouldn't be caged for long. But I can't complain, as it fends off the chill in the colder months when it tries to creep in.

While Gabriel occupies himself with the hazelnut, I tend to the caramel, doing my best not to dwell on the pang in my chest at the sweet gift she's planning for her husband. Instead, I concentrate on the glow to her face, the overwhelming happiness she radiates, and the joy she's going to experience before the day is up.

"How long have you and your husband been together?" I query over my shoulder, handing Gabriel the marker before topping off her drink with cream.

"Fifty-six years today," she sighs, a dream state clouding over her gaze as she reminisces. "I have a little party set up for him this evening; our son and his little ones are visiting."

"Congratulations," I say, setting the caramel latte in front of her.

Pivoting, Gabriel and I clean up the splashes of cream and turn to give her our undivided attention.

"Are you going to be OK with these?" I ask, slotting both drinks inside a dual cup holder. "I don't mind coming with you to the door."

Retrieving her walking stick with more swagger than I thought possible, she lifts it in the air and gives Gabriel and me a wiggle. "My dear, I may not look it, but I feel like I'm forty; I'll be fine. Thank you for your help, kids."

She really is something else.

Double-checking her cups are snug in their holder, both Gabriel and I simultaneously say, "You're welcome."

We watch her go, knowing her husband is going to be in for one hell of a surprise later.

An oncoming customer holds the door open for her, then she wanders off down the road, out of sight and in search of her beloved husband.

"Who knows, maybe if this guy plays his cards right on your date, that could be you," Gabriel snickers on his way past.

Swatting him with the cloth, I yell, "It's not a date!"

Damn it, I knew bringing my book with me was going to be a bad idea.

If I had just stopped at the one chapter instead of trying to cram another page in, I would've been spared ten more minutes. Ten more minutes that would have allowed me to browse to my heart's content.

Being one of the best spots to visit, especially when special occasions are on the horizon, nowhere competes with T & G with their modernised gifts, traditional items, stationery, and trinkets.

Another reason I like it is because it never changes—the carpet will be renewed every time there's a stain, tear, or dull patch, but it never changes from a shade of red I can imagine from old, cosy cottages.

Breathing in, the room is filled with the modern-day sweetness of incense sticks and the musty waft of the past. The soft chatter of the parents floats around while their children explore, only sets the mood.

I'll have to bring Mum and Dad here again, like the good old days.

Scanning the shelves along the left-hand side, I take it all in, but my brain buffers as the uncertainty sinks in.

What am I going to buy?

Side-stepping a sticky patch, the first sign of an expected changeover, I peer up at the feline-shaped clock. The crazy spaghetti arms twist toward the time; I have fifteen minutes to get to Brooks & Books. If I'm quick, I could get there in ten, leaving me with time to spare.

My smile falters.

Would arriving early be a bad thing?

"Being early is a sign of clinginess. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Whether I want them to or not, the words float around my head, and they suck the breath out of me. I can picture them vividly in Jackson's voice, and it sends an unwanted shiver down my spine. The breath leaves my lungs as I stare down at my feet.

I scramble for something, anything, to make the words disappear. I think back to Brandon, imagining how he held purpose, how swift he was in each action to get us out of the bookshop. He looks like the type of man who keeps to his times.

If not, then I can always hide on the corner until it's time.

Releasing a rough breath, I turn my focus to inspecting the stock in front of me. Sticking close to the edges in an attempt to stay out of the way of the kids bustling around, chasing one another with dinosaur finger puppets.

I round to the next column.

Coming up blank, I scratch the nape of my neck. Nothing pegs me as something Brandon would like or need. After a heavy debate, stationery, modern, and traditional gifts are off the table.

Shuffling toward the table at the far end of the room, individual trinkets stare up at me.

I wasn't expecting it to be this hard.

Dragging my fingers through my hair, I relieve the ache within my scalp from having it tied up for a couple of hours. Hooking the band around my wrist, I let out a huff of air.

After scouring an entire tub of funky fridge magnets, I'm on the verge of giving up when something peeking from within the neighbouring basket catches my eye. Plucking it from the centre of the mass, the miniature objects give way until what I've hooked comes free.

A broad smile tugs at my lips at the mere sight of the keyring dangling between my fingertips. It's a small sign with books are life engraved into a round surface. Clipped to the corner is a cute book charm.

Giggling, I take it toward the till.