“You’re doing what?” Gina asked incredulously over an impromptu lunch that following Friday. Kane had remembered to call Sabella that morning, and they had made plans to meet outside Stumptown Coffee Roasters’ downtown location. His band was playing a couple blocks away at a club called Dante’s. Sabella had immediately called Gina for some additional perspective on the situation.
“You heard that song, Gi,” Sabella reminded. They were sitting on a park bench by the magazine’s office building, consuming sandwiches Sabella had brought.
“It was a pretty good song,” Gina acceded begrudgingly. “But that doesn’t mean you should be wasting any more of your time on him!”
Sabella twirled a lock of her hair around her fingers absentmindedly. Sometimes, she thought she still saw traces of the purple highlights, though in reality those had washed out quite a while ago. “It’s just coffee,” she insisted, sounding weak even to herself.
Gina thought for a moment before responding. “What do you think will happen?” she asked, concern evident in her eyes and the slant of both her eyebrows and lips. She was wearing mostly gray—an unusual choice for her, especially in the summer—but a pink-and-yellow, polka-dotted scarf topped the outfit off with a splash of her customary color.
“I don’t know,” Sabella admitted. “But, I told him I would meet him. Maybe this will finally allow both of us to put everything in the past, and he won’t send me anything else.” She couldn’t quite keep the depression out of her voice. Somehow, back in Nashville, she had stepped into a fairy tale. Granted, it had since gone incredibly wrong—proving that utterly romantic tales could only survive in books and movies—but she couldn’t seem to let it go. The short story she had begun needed an ending, but she hadn’t been able to write one, possibly because the live version continued to throw curveballs her way.
Gina threw her arm around Sabella’s shoulders. “Call me if you need to,” she offered, understanding she couldn’t change Sabella’s mind.
“Thanks, Gi.” Sabella inclined her head briefly toward her friend, then they both pulled away. “Are you seeing Mr. Straight-laced again tonight?”
“Alistair,” Gina corrected automatically.
“You still haven’t found a good nickname?”
“He doesn’t like nicknames,” Gina explained. “We’re meeting for dinner after work, but I promise to slip off and check my phone a couple times, so if I don’t pick up, text me.”
It was unlike Gina to ignore her phone for prolonged periods of time, but apparently Mr. Straight-laced—Alistair, Sabella corrected herself silently—was a stickler for social graces, so she had recently gotten into the habit of dining without such distractions. Most importantly, Gina seemed happy, smiling whenever she spoke of her new beau. He treated her well, already taking her to some of the most lavish restaurants in the area and surprising her with gorgeous bouquets, and even jewelry, at the office. The diamond-and-pearl-drop earrings Gina was wearing had been a rather generous gift from him, and they sparkled elegantly in her ears. At least one of them had been lucky in love lately.
~*~
Kane drummed his fingers on his thigh as he waited in front of Stumptown Coffee. He had barely paid attention during the sound check, and everyone—his manager, drummer, and bass guitarist—had been less than thrilled when he’d announced he was taking a coffee break. He checked his phone again. No missed calls from Sabella. The street wasn’t particularly busy, but it was still early on Friday night. Every time someone turned the corner, he checked to see if it was her. Not that he knew what he’d say.
“Kane.” He heard her voice behind him and spun around.
“Bella,” he exhaled, watching her intently. “It’s good to see you.”
She shifted the purse strap on her shoulder, looking uncomfortable.
“Thank you for meeting me,” he added then paused again.
A couple of people came out of the coffee shop, laughing and almost bumping into Sabella. Kane put his arm out without thinking. The couple saw the motion and walked around them. Sabella looked at him, a question in her eyes. Kane dropped his arm. “Should we go inside?” he asked.
“To be perfectly frank, since you believe I had ulterior motives for our previous interactions, I’m not exactly certain what it is you want from me now.”
Kane saw her lips tighten. The fact that she’d agreed to meet him had seemed like a good sign, but he could easily blow this. “A second chance,” he answered honestly. “To get to know you, to, I don’t know, to spend time together.” Sabella looked down. “That day we spent together,” he started, going all-in. Her eyes returned to his face. “It was pretty perfect.”
“It was,” she half agreed, half asked.
“It was,” he assured. “I didn’t believe that, something like that, it couldn’t be real.”
Some of the tension left her stance, and she watched him thoughtfully, without a word. He took courage from the fact that she hadn’t yet walked away. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he offered.
Her exhale ended with a slight nod. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeated, his gut unclenching, then gestured for her to precede him to the door.
~*~
The smell of coffee assaulted them as they walked into Stumptown, but Sabella didn’t mind. A moment later, her nose adjusted to the many scents of freshly roasted beans from around the world. Stumptown deserved their stellar reputation. The shop was filled with affable banter, markedly unlike the tense silence between her and Kane. As they stood in line, Sabella pretended to examine the board listing the shop’s offerings, though she already knew what she would order. The clangs of coffee pots, hissing of foam hitting metal pitchers, and friendly calls of the baristas permeated the air.
While they waited for their drinks, one of the couches that stood on a raised dais in the corner freed up, and Kane nodded to it. “Should we grab that? I can get the coffees.”
“Okay.” Sabella nodded in return. She walked over to the benches and perched on the one facing both the coffee bar and the exposed brick wall behind it. Kane joined her a minute later, handing her a mocha latte. He lowered himself onto the bench beside her, and they both angled their bodies toward each other. If it hadn’t been for their mutual trepidation, the pose would have appeared quite intimate. She took a sip of the coffee, letting its taste fill her mouth before flowing down her throat.
“So, how’ve you been?” Kane asked tentatively.
Sabella started to answer automatically, then stopped. She focused on him, the concern in his eyes, the drawn appearance of his face. With no trace of a smile, the strict lines of his jaw angled into a barely blunted point at his chin. His entire face changed when he smiled, and she suddenly longed to see that happen. “How have you been?” she asked rather than answering him.
“I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout you,” he responded slowly.
Sabella averted her eyes, then forced herself to look back at him. She started to lick her lips but stalled mid-motion. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she admitted.
Kane nodded and appeared to consider her. She met his gaze evenly, though the solemn, assessing look in his eyes made her want to hide. Whatever he saw seemed to have satisfied him. “When I first started to get noticed, known, a lot of women started approachin’ me, not like they had, not like before. It took me a while, way too long actually, took a while to realize that they wanted to be with ‘a musician’—the guy they’d seen on stage, or on a poster; that they wanted somethin’ from me, different than normal,” he told her, struggling over the words.
“I know why you would be hesitant with women approaching you,” she interjected when he paused. “I mean, I can imagine that many people want something from you, the country star.” Sabella stopped to gather her thoughts. Kane watched her, waiting for her to continue. She knew better than to be defensive, since it usually meant the other person attempted to prove their point offensively, but that didn’t stop her from what she said next. “You found me. Even in Nashville, you literally bumped into me. You introduced yourself, and…” She trailed off, unwilling to remind them both of the remaining events of that night.
The corner of Kane’s lips pulled up slightly. “You were pretty impressive up on that stage,” he pointed out.
Sabella felt herself blushing, but focused on sipping her coffee, then resolutely returned to her point. “Look, in some way, I suppose I should almost be flattered that you think I am such an incredibly talented manipulator that I controlled your actions from before the moment of our meeting.”
“I know. You didn’t do anythin’ other than be—” He cut himself off, and his throat moved as he swallowed.
“Be what?” she asked, silently scrambling to remember any moment when she may have given him legitimate reason to believe she had ulterior motives.
“Amazing,” he said.
It took Sabella a second to remember where the conversation had last been.
“Ideal,” Kane added.
“I’m really not.”
“Agree to disagree?” he said with a faint half-smile. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “I was wrong, thinkin’ you were like all of them, like the others. But, I’m hopin’ you’ll give me another shot.”
“Another shot at what?” she asked with deliberate calm. “Even ignoring everything else, we live in completely different parts of the country, and you’re on tour now. It’s not a question of whether I believe you, or even forgive you, or whatnot. Our worlds don’t mesh, and I’m fairly certain I’m nothing like the women who normally interest you.”
“Are you sayin’ you don’t want to see what could happen?”
She should say no, but being next to him reminded her how it had felt to be enveloped in his arms. “It’s not realistic,” she said instead.
“Us meetin’ wasn’t realistic,” Kane pointed out. “We don’t have to look that far ahead.”
Sabella didn’t say anything. Her life had become a “choose your own adventure” story that had started as a romance and spun into something else. She should have closed the book and walked away, but some idealistic piece of her needed to believe her instincts about their time together hadn’t been completely wrong, again. That same piece wanted to wipe the misery from his face and return them to one of the times they had both seemed happy. In the real world, she merely took another sip of her mocha latte.
“Come to the show,” he invited quietly.
She exhaled quickly then nodded, despite her better judgment. “Okay.”
Kane smiled uncertainly, and the tension seeped out of his body almost instantly.
“Under one condition,” she added as he started to rise. Kane stilled and looked back at her quizzically. “I am not getting anywhere near that stage.”
That earned her a genuine grin. “Deal.”