I blink my eyes as the sunlight hits my face. I fell asleep on the terrace, wrapped around a blanket, with the book still on my lap and the empty mug beside me.
After taking a shower, I put on a pair of dark denim jeans, a satin white blouse, a pair of high heel black ankle boots and a black knitted cardigan. My stomach rumbles, but as I rummage to the pantry and the fridge, I'm extremely disappointed with the lack of choices. So, the next best option is the café downstairs. I guess it has its perks to live on top of the Magnolia; I don't need to go far to get food.
In all honesty, I paid little attention to the Magnolia Café the first time I stopped by, but it is indeed a curious place. It has huge French windows, on the walls there are landscape paintings in cold pastel tones with fairy lights around the frames, small crystal chandeliers on the ceiling, pintuck armchairs with colourful embroidered cushions and soft blankets, apple cinnamon scented candles on the tables and soft music playing in the background.
I see an empty table by the window and sit down.
"Is everything okay with the apartment?" Connor asks, appearing next to me with a pen and a piece of paper in his hands.
His outfit looks a lot like the one he had on when we first met. Only the colours have changed. Lumberjack, that's truly all I have to say about his outfits. He's wearing, again, a t-shirt, a flannel shirt over it with the sleeves folded up to his elbows and a pair of boots, but today he doesn't have a beard, which makes him look a lot younger and shows his defined and angular jawline.
"Yes. Everything is alright."
"And what can I get you?"
I take a quick glance at the menu. "Black coffee and French toast, please."
As Connor walks away, I turn my gaze to the outside. The café is in a small square, along with other stores and restaurants. In the middle of the square there's a fountain where kids that seem to be on their way to school are gathering. It's heart-warming to see those children so happy. I liked school. I used to be one of those happy kids. I used to be happy... These words linger in my mind. At some point I stopped being. When was it?
Connor returns with my order, and to my surprise, he sits right in front of me.
"Tonight, and tomorrow night we will have live music, and we'll stay open a little later than usual. You should come. It would be nice if you could meet some new people around here. I'm sorry, I don't want to intrude on your life, but it's a small town. People will welcome you with open arms. If you give them a chance." He fidgets with the button of his rolled-up sleeve.
I'm sure Connor has good intentions; however, I don't think I have the strength to face the world. I never had it and yet, somehow, I was good at pretending. But as of right now, my strength is all depleted. All those years of pretending must've burned me out. I've reached my limit.
"I appreciate the invitation but—"
"I understand. But if you change your mind, know that you are welcomed here." We stay like this in an awkward silence for a couple of minutes. Connors moves in his chair and when I think he's about to leave, he talks again. "So, what are you doing around here? Work?"
"I thought you didn't want to intrude."
"You're right. Sorry." He scratches his neck and looks to the side.
"No, I'm not. I'm sorry. You're just making conversation and I'm the one being rude. I'm not sure what I'm doing here. I sold my house, my car and went as far as I could."
"A fresh start then," he says with a charming smile. Way too charming. It should be illegal to have a smile like that. I try to look away, but I can't. There's something about him.
"Precisely."
"But if that's the case, do you need work?"
"I don't think I'll be able to find something in my field around here. But yes. I suppose I'll eventually have to start looking for something. I can't keep leaving off my savings forever."
"I could use the help." He looks down at the table as he scratches his forehead. He fidgets a lot. "I mean, if you think that's something you could be interested in."
"I can't ask you to do that. I don't have any qualifications. I don't even know how to properly make coffee. I worked at a construction company with a simple capsule coffee machine. There hardly makes me qualified to do anything around here."
"You can learn." He raises his head again and looks at me, his face slightly blushed. "Three years ago, I didn't know how to run a café."
"I... I don't know."
"It's just an idea. I'm sorry if it rubbed you off in the wrong way. You don't have to accept it. It's understandable if you refuse, comparing to the work you had before. It's not the same as working at a café."
"Are you kidding me? I hated my job. I mean, I love architecture, but the company where I worked is just horrible. The atmosphere, the people, the long hours and the projects were just hideous and lacked personality."
Connor laughs at my sudden burst of energy as I lash out about my former place of employment, of which I don't have any good memories. I feel my cheeks burning. I take a sip of coffee and hope the mug hides my face.
"Well, I'll think about you offer. Thank you. But if you don't mind me asking. What's with all the sympathy towards me? I don't want to sound ungrateful, but you don't know me."
"I know what is like to start over. I was born and raised here. Left for university on the opposite side of the country and decided that I wanted to change my life. But I ended up coming back."
"Why did you come back?"
"That's a story for another day. But let's just say here is where I feel at home. I never found that feeling anywhere else."
I take another sip of my coffee that is quickly getting cold, and we stay like this, in front of each other, for a couple more minutes, until someone inside the kitchen yells his name.
"I have to go back to work. Today's breakfast is on me. Think about my offer and let me know."
Could our interactions be more awkward? I watch him walk away as I eat my breakfast, which, by the way, it's delicious. The French Toast has the right amount of cinnamon and sugar, and the texture is crispy perfection. The strawberries are fresh and sweet and taste like summer. Or maybe I'm just too hungry.