Finding Love in a Coffee Shop

Straight Black

My eyes widened as Matt sighed. "Will—"

"Kidding," Will said with a lighthearted grin, pearly white teeth flashing. "Just ignore her. She can be a... she can be unsympathetic."

"Um, right."

"Ready?" he asked then, as we came to a set of double doors made out of mosaic stained glass. The colors were reminiscent of the sea, deep shades of blues, greens, and purples. "Try not to trip."

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be..."

Unsurprisingly, the dining room of the yacht was completely posh, with high ceilings, giant chandeliers, and candles on every one of the mahogany tables that were elegantly draped with ivory tablecloths. The delicious aroma of thousands of different cuisines floated around the room, surrounding me. Each table had six fashionably dressed individuals seated at them, menus in hand. Will tugged me to the centermost table, larger than the rest, where four people were already seated. It only took me a moment to realize they were Will's family. His mother was the most obvious one because I'd seen a few movies she'd been in. But each and every one of them shared some similarities with the man holding my arm tightly. Not to mention the almost impossible good looks. Not surprising. Of course, Will's family would be handsome, that much was plain to see when both Will and Matt were in the same room. And as expected, his father was missing from the table.

"William," his mother spoke up, eyes falling upon her son. I assumed Will took more after his dad because the only similarity between his mother and himself was their black as night hair and the almond shape of their eyes. Unlike Will, the color of his mother's eyes were a dull grey instead of lively blue. Her lips were thin and dry, and I could imagine for the best part of her day, they were in the shape of a frown. "I wasn't aware you'd be bringing a guest..."

"This is Katie Holmes," Will said in response, pushing me forward a step. "Katie, this is my mother, Rena."

"Hello," I greeted quietly, doing my best to hold her scrutinizing gaze. "Nice to meet you."

Rena appraised me for a moment more before dipping her head in acknowledgment. "Nice to meet you as well."

Will lost some of the tension he'd been holding, and he gestured toward the youngest male at the table. "This is my youngest brother Ben, he's seventeen." Ben was almost the spitting replica of Will, just with more boyish features. The man next to Ben was much older, older than Will, but still baring a semblance. "That's one of my older brothers, John, he's thirty-four." John offered me a small smile before Will pointed to the last person seated. "And that's my younger sister Amanda. She's eighteen." Amanda was too busy texting to look up and acknowledge either her brother or me. She was skinny, with more of her mother's looks than her father's.

No one said anything after that, so Matt quickly spoke up. "I see Joseph and Jacob couldn't make it."

"No, I'm afraid they were unable to get work off," Rena explained, disappointment coloring her tone.

I blinked, taking in all the names. Will hadn't been lying when he'd said he had a big family. It was crazy to think that Rena had such a petite figure even though she'd popped out seven children. Seven children... I couldn't even imagine that.

I was drawn out from my thoughts as Matt pulled out my chair for me, indicating for me to sit down. A little awkwardly, I took a seat, smoothing out my dress over my legs. Matt flopped down inelegantly on the chair to my left, while Will seated himself to my right. Rena was staring right at me, sipping out of what appeared to be a cup of black coffee, and I felt my mouth going a little dry.

"You three should decide on what you'd like to eat before the waiter comes back," she suggested, lips forming a frown.

Desperate to focus on anything but the people at the table, I quickly picked up one of the menus, scanning over the contents. My heart fell as I realized it was all in French. Why in the world was it all in French? Right, of course, because everything on this goddamn yacht was fancy. Why shouldn't the menu be too? And of course, French was by far the most fancy-schmancy language out there, right?