The Magnolia Café

Chapter 17

We finally arrive at the bar. It's a pleasant space to be in. The décor is clearly inspired the nineteen twenties and the thirties. The velvet, the feathers and the chandeliers, everything together resemble the bohemian party atmosphere described in the Great Gatsby.

There's an empty sofa in front of a table and the waiter guides us there. Connor waves at one of the artists that is on stage getting ready, the one holding the saxophone. The man seems to be around Connor's age. He has a dense beard, short brown hair, and is wearing a black shirt and velvet black vest on top.

"Do you want to order something?" Connor asks.

"I'm not sure. And you?"

"Something without alcohol. Someone has to drive us back home." He smirks.

"I see. Very responsible of you," I say as I take off my coat.

"One of us has to be."

"Then a glass of red for me."

"Any red in particular?"

"I trust your taste."

Connor gets up, and amid the crowd, finds a waitress. He comes back to his sit and shortly after, the waitress arrives with a glass of red wine, an alcohol-free cocktail, and a plate of tapas.

"So? Did I make the right choice?" he asks as I take my first sip of the wine.

"Perfect." He can't help but to smile with this small victory.

The music starts. They played a bunch of well-known songs, by the end played some originals and even did a little of improv. They are an exceptionally talented band, and it left both of us pleasantly surprised. The concert ends, and the DJ plays some music. Connor's friend leaves the stage and approaches us.

"Connor, how are you, man?" Connor gets up from the couch and hugs his friend.

"John meet Isabella. Isabella meet John."

"Pleasure," John says as he grabs my hand and places a soft kiss on it. Connor rolls his eyes, and I chuckle. "If you don't bring her to the dance floor, I will," he says, dragging me into the crowd.

We've been dancing all night. I danced with John. I got to meet the other members of the band. But I'm slightly tipsy and exhausted, so I go back to the couch and sit beside Connor.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes. A lot. But you didn't dance with me." I pout.

Connor chuckles. "Trust me. You don't want to dance with me. I have two left feet. My place is right here."

"I don't believe in you."

"Why not?"

I don't answer. I smile and I bite my lower lip, looking at Connor. He smiles back. And we stay like this for a moment.

"Have you ever been in love? Real love? The type of love that doesn't let you breathe, and that doesn't let you think about anything else? Have you ever wondered if she was the one?" I ramble because of my low alcohol tolerance. I admit, it was reckless of me to drink after being ill, but can't go back now.

"What?" He frowns.

"Have you—"

"I heard the question."

"So? Where's the answer?"

"Why do you want to know that?" He asks with a confused expression, and I shrug, looking at the almost empty wine glass in my hand. "I have," he finally answers.

"I haven't. That's sad, isn't it?"

"Not even with your fiancé?"

I shake my head. "I thought I was. Turned out I wasn't. I was just... delusional. That's how he put it, at least. Whatever it truly means."

Connor sadly smiles at me. "Come on. Let's go home. I'll never let you drink again. You have no tolerance to alcohol. You only had two glasses and look at you."

"No. Let me finish this one."

He chuckles. "Fine." Connor leans back against the couch again as he waits for me to drink that last sip.

"What was she like?"

"Who?"

"The girl you were in love with."

"Isabella—"

"What? Just amuse me, please."

He breathes deeply. "She was very intelligent, confident, independent." All things that, clearly, I am not, although I'm trying to become. "I don't know what else to say to you. It has been a while, and I stopped thinking about it a long time ago."

"Blonde, brunette, redhead?"

"Isabella—" I pout and look at him. After a long and desperate sigh, he continues. "Brunette and she had beautiful big eyes. It was impossible not to notice her."

"What happened?"

"I met her at my first job, after getting my degree. We worked at the same bank and since we both studied finance and management and had similar backgrounds, we immediately got along. We dated for a while, but in the end, we wanted different things. There was a moment where I thought she was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but she turned out to be someone different from who I thought she was."

I guess both of us had office romances that ended badly. Maybe there's a curse or something. Maybe romance on the job is fated to flunk. Does that mean that Connor and I would never work out? Or does this only apply to offices and not to other places of work?

"That's why you came back home?"

"No. We broke up after I came back." Connor takes a lungful breath and then gets up. "Let's go."

"Dance with me."

"Next time."

"Promise? Aren't you going to say you have two left feet again?"

"I won't. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Counting on it." He smiles. Charming smile this time, not flustered Connor. My weakness. Well, both moods are becoming my weakness. I'm weak in the face of one of his charming smiles and in the face of a cute, flustered look. I guess I'm doomed, aren't I? "Now, let's go home."

I get up as quickly as I can and put on my coat. Am I wobbling or is the room wobbling? Connor wraps his arm around my waist. I guess I'm the one wobbling. He guides me out of the bar and into the car.

My eyes start to get heavy.

"You are driving me crazy," he mumbles as he places his coat over me.

"Isabella," Connor softly calls. I slowly open my eyes and find Connor's gaze on me. "We're here."

"I'm so sorry." I hide my face in my hands. I'm so ashamed. "I'm terrible with alcohol and I crossed a line. I shouldn't've asked you those questions. It's none of my business."

"Don't worry about it. Go get some rest." Connor grabs my hand and, just like John did, he places a soft kiss on my skin. He smirks, and I roll my eyes.

I'm so tired. These stairs seem to never end. This building should have an elevator. I get into my apartment and look out the window. Connor's car is still there. I turn on the light and he drives away. Was he waiting to see if I survived the way up?