When she uncovers his plan to lead an entirely uneventful life, Mia Evian is determined to teach Preston Maddox how to stop living like a ghost, but Mia and Preston have history, tension, and a lot of complicated feelings.
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I'm not rewarded with any time to respond to Preston's comment on his future because we've reached the cafe. I quickly learn that the extensive Facebook stalking I did has paid off; I spot Rhys immediately. He's sitting in one of the cafe's far corners, a book in his hands and a navy mug on the table in front of him.
Preston is indisputedly the spitting image of his mother, and so I wasn't surprised when I struggled to draw comparisons between him and Rhys via the few photos I've seen of him. Where Preston is fair, Rhys's features are dark, but seeing him in person—a distant look in his brown eyes, the way he's rhythmically tapping his foot, his posture—is stirring a sense of jarring familiarity. I can't explain it; it's nothing aesthetic, but they're so glaringly related that it's giving me vertigo.
I'm so hypnotised by Rhys's presence that it takes the sound of Preston's voice to draw me back into reality.
'Drinks are on you, I presume?'
My face falls into a frown, and I spin on the spot to find him gazing at the menu behind the coffee bar. I'd bet my life that he's not so much as glanced in the direction of the cafe's sitting area.
'What with me being forced here against my will,' he continues.
'I know you're only trying to be funny because you're anxious, so I'm going to let that slide.'
'Am I that transparent?'
He's still staring at the menu.
'Yes.'
'I'll reference this the next time you accuse me of being unreadable.'
'Shut up.'
He smirks.
I glance back towards Rhys, who as far as I can tell, hasn't spotted us because he's doing exactly what he was doing when we entered the cafe. I turn back to Preston, who's also doing exactly what he's been doing since we entered, and I have to swallow a laugh.
'Sorry to pull you away from such an engaging read,' I say, nodding at the cafe menu. 'But let's talk game plan.'
Finally, Preston gives in and turns to look at me, his eyebrows raised and his gaze notably not daring to shift in the direction of the seating area.
'We've got three options,' I begin. 'I buy the drinks while you head over to Rhys.'
He physically flinches at the notion.
'You buy them, and I head over to break the ice or whatever, or whoever buys the drinks and we head over together.'
'We should go together,' he replies in a heartbeat, clearly not contemplating option one for a second.
I'm not especially convinced he's keen on the together option either.
I nod. 'Okay, I'll go. Get me a hot chocolate, please. Oat milk, if they have it.'
