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It was only a few days between signing my lease and getting the keys, but it felt like I was waiting forever. My excitement at finally getting the chance to move into the building I’d been coveting for so long had blinded me to the memory of the actual moving part of the equation. Somewhere along the lines, there was a disconnect, and I apparently thought I was just going to wake up already in the gorgeous apartment with everything organized for me.
That did not happen.
Instead, I woke up the morning of moving day with a sick feeling in my stomach and the hope that it was just jitters. I didn’t have a lot of experience with moving. I’d grown up in the house where my father was born. Literally. It was a fast labor, and they didn’t make it to the hospital. My grandmother didn’t like to talk about it. The only times in my life I’d moved was when I went to college, and then when I moved into the old apartment I was moving out of and into the new one.
Those experiences hadn’t been particularly good. Granted, the first one was marred by my family’s disappointment and disapproving commentary because I had the gall to go to a university I chose for myself rather than my father’s alma mater. I was also going to be living in student housing rather than either staying at home or moving into my own apartment nearby, so that wasn’t going to go smoothly. And the second I ended up doing completely by myself because I was deeply rooted in my independence kick and thought I needed to be able to handle all challenges single-handedly.
That part of me was not familiar with the mechanics of one woman attempting to move a sectional sofa out of a tiny student apartment despite having aced physics.
This time I was determined not to make the experience that hard on myself. The notice was far too short to hire professional movers to do the entire move, so I did the next best thing. Or, more accurately, the only other option I had, and called in my friends. A crew was available to move the furniture from my old place as well as deliver a couple of new pieces I’d bought, but getting everything into the moving van and then into the new place was on us.
Which meant I spent the morning with Gabriela and her fiancé Dean talking about the wedding and all the plans that still needed to be finalized, Valerie waddling around being pregnant, and her husband Preston checking on her constantly and talking about pregnancy realities and baby preparations I really didn’t need to hear coming from him. There are certain things women can talk about with their girlfriends and it’s perfectly fine, but when it starts coming out of a man’s mouth, it just goes to an icky place my china and throw pillows simply didn’t need to be exposed to.
Even if I wasn’t moving, this dynamic wouldn’t have been my favorite. I loved my friends, but I always felt like the third—or fifth—wheel when they had their partners along. They were great guys, and I got along well with both of them, but when I was confronted with just how settled and coupled they were, it was nothing but a reminder that I was very single. I hadn’t been looking for a relationship and was really determined to focus on my career and not get distracted by dating, but it still didn’t feel great.
Fortunately, the guys only stayed around long enough to get everything off the moving truck and into the apartment. After a flurry of kisses and a sequence of check-ins, they left us with a mountain range of boxes to go through and not enough floor space available for the furniture that would be delivered eventually. Eventually being the operative and infuriating word there. The problem with that word was that it meant sometime in the future without any specification. I didn’t work well with that. Especially considering the truck was supposed to have been at the new apartment almost an hour ago.
While the furniture not being there yet was working out for me in the sense that I didn’t actually have anywhere to put it at the moment, it being late and not knowing when it might show up was just adding to my stress. This day was not turning out the way I’d envisioned.
“What do you think about this?”
I looked over to where Valerie was hanging a painting on the wall in the front hallway. Since she wasn’t exactly in the condition to be hauling boxes or lifting anything of any real weight but still wanted to feel like she was playing some part in the whole process, she’d been assigned to hanging things and arranging pillows. I didn’t have anything for her to arrange pillows on yet, so it had just been a lot of hammering so far. Hammering and talking about being hungry.
“It looks fine,” I said.
“I am starving,” she said. “Do we have any more of those nut packs?”
I thought I was being a prepared, responsible adult by packing a bag full of healthy snacks for the day with the obvious plan of ordering pizza as is tradition bestowed on the world by the gods of moving, but my planning was flawed. I hadn’t taken into consideration the ravenous reality of a woman rapidly approaching the end of her third trimester. We’d already gone through all the snacks, had ordered a pizza, and were hotly debating what to have for dinner.
That was still a few hours away, though, and definitely after the furniture got there. But she’d mentioned being hungry every few minutes for the last hour, so I figured we weren’t going to make it that long.
“We don’t, but I’m going to get us something. You just keep on doing what you’re doing. Looks great. Gabriela, keep trying to rearrange the boxes to make some sense of them and make room for the furniture whenever the hell it decides to get here. I’ll be right back,” I said.
“What are you going to get?” Valerie asked.
“I can’t really go anywhere since we don’t know when the truck is going to get here, so I’m just going to run down to the coffee shop in the lobby. I’m sure there are pastries. Maybe they even have some fruit cups or sandwiches or something. I’ll just see what’s available and maybe ask for some recommendations for takeout around here. How does that sound?” I asked.
“Perfect.”
“Okay, good.”
I left the apartment and went down into the lobby. I really didn’t know what to expect from The Coffee Shop, but I hoped there was something good there. I wanted to thank my friends for being so willing to help me and for going out of their way for me. And I also just needed a bit of a pick-me-up to get through the rest of this mess of a day.
It wasn’t until I’d gotten to the door of the shop that I remembered my glimpse of the sexy barista the day I came to look at the apartment. As soon as I walked inside, I saw him again, in the same place where he had been standing the first time. He had a bright, genuine smile on his face as he talked to a man dressed in three different types of plaid, and I felt a tug toward him.
I walked up to the counter and looked over the handwritten menu on the chalkboard behind it. There were a lot more options than I expected, but I wasn’t sure what I should get.
“Hey, there,” the man with the big smile said, stepping up in front of me. “What can I do for you?”
He was even more attractive not from a distance and not through glass, and for a second, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.
“I’m just moving in,” I said when I’d gotten my thoughts back together and could think properly.
“Welcome,” he said. “I hope you’re settling in all right.”
“Well, not exactly,” I said. “I got the moving truck I filled with boxes and everything here, but the one with my furniture is MIA. I have two friends here helping me, and one of them is about three hundred months pregnant, so she’s hungry. I wanted to grab a few things to eat to tide us through the afternoon.”
“I can absolutely do that for you. My name is Nick,” he said.
“I’m Alex.”
“Well, Alex, do you have in mind what you want to order, or would you like me to put something together for you?” he asked.
He was so sweet and welcoming, and something about the smooth depth of his voice made my heart flutter. I couldn’t let myself focus on that. But I couldn’t turn down his offer of choosing the food. Usually, I resented people trying to make decisions for me, but with way this day was going and the number of things I already had going on in my mind, I was grateful for the break. Besides, he knew the menu and probably even knew what the mysterious “daily additions and specials” were. He’d made good decisions.
I watched him start to pull together an assortment of baked goods and then go into the open kitchen to make some sandwiches. He was talking as he did it, making sure none of us had any allergies or vehement food dislikes. He made sure there were no pregnancy food aversions to worry about and promised he would avoid the soft cheeses and meats that were warned against for pregnant women.
I was so wrapped up in watching him and listening to him, amazed at how courteous and considerate he was, I almost didn’t pay attention to the movement out of the corner of my eye that said something was going on in front of the building. But it kept going, and when I looked up, I saw that it was the furniture delivery truck. Rather than going around to the back of the building to use the service entrance, they’d decided it was a good idea to just park in the middle of a busy city street.
“Shit shit shit,” I muttered, getting up closer to the window and trying to gesture at the delivery driver to get his attention.
“Everything all right?” Nick asked.
“They showed up with the furniture, but they were supposed to bring it around back. They’re blocking traffic, and I have a feeling the building owners won’t be thrilled about me parading a bunch of furniture through the front lobby and attempting to stuff it in the elevator or drag it up the stairs,” I said.
I knew for a fact they wouldn’t be. Guidelines for moving in were very clearly outlined in the lease, including the required used of the back entrance and the strict restrictions on bringing in or out through the lobby anything from the apartment bigger than a standard box or suitcase. Everything else had to be moved through the service entrance that included a small loading dock and a freight elevator.
“Go ahead,” Nick said. “Go talk to them. I’ll finish getting your food together.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Absolutely. Go on.”
“Thank you so much. Can you bring it up to my apartment? I don’t know how much help they are going to give, and I don’t particularly want them alone in my apartment with my friends,” I said.
I knew I sounded a bit overprotective, but Nick didn’t even flinch. He nodded, but then his face contorted slightly as if a realization stopped him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have the access code,” Nick said. “I’ve never even been above the lobby.”
“No worries,” I said grabbing a napkin and a pen I saw sitting near the cash register. I jotted down the access code he would need to use to operate the elevator along with my apartment number.
Nick looked a little surprised, and I chastised myself as I ran outside to try to get the truck out of traffic and preserve the sanity of the entire block. I couldn’t believe I’d just done that. This man was a complete stranger and yet I’d just given him access to the entire building.
Perfect.
