Every time I look out at the street, I think I see Nero. Every man in a suit. Every man who fills the doorway. Even when there’s no one there, I swear I see the shadows move, and I swear it’s him.
But it never is.
My cheeks round as I blow out a breath.
All the customers are settled. I’m sure someone will need something soon, but I should have a quick second to steal a drink from the coffee I have sitting in back.
The cup has just touched my lips when I hear the front door open.
“Of course,” I huff, before setting it back down. I get that they don’t want customers to see us eating or drinking, but it’ll be a miracle if I ever finish this latte.
Dusting my hands off, I hurry back toward my spot behind the counter.
I’m halfway to the register, when my gaze falls on the man striding in from the entrance. And the sight of him pulls all the breath from my body.
He’s so handsome.
So goddamn handsome.
His dark beard is trimmed and neat, his hair is styled perfectly back from his serious face. His shoulders are set, and his chest is broad under another perfectly tailored suit.
His eyes lock on mine and even though he’s several paces away, I know the exact shade of green that’s looking back at me. Because they’re the eyes I see when I dream.
Only this isn’t a dream. This is real life. And the first time I’ve seen him in the daylight.
Him.
Nero.
Memories of his body over mine flicker behind my eyes, and my mouth lifts into a shy smile.
“Nero!” A new voice booms from inside the cafe, startling me.
But my gaze doesn’t tear away from the man who was inside me less than forty-eight hours ago. And because I’m watching, staring, I witness the shift in his features. Witness him transforming into someone I don’t recognize at all. Something shutters closed inside of him, dimming the energy he exudes, and blocking the wildness I usually see in his eyes.
Unlike me, Nero doesn’t ignore the voice. Instead, he ignores me. Turning away from me, not acknowledging me in any way.
A pang of hurt sears into my chest, sinking deep.
You’re a nobody.
I bat the voice away as soon as it tries to take root.
It would be rude of Nero to not go say hello to whoever called out. He can go, greet his friend, then he can come back and talk to me.
Talk to me.
In my place of work.
The magnitude of him being here finally hits me. Nero is here, in Twin’s Café.
He didn’t look surprised to see me. I mean, maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe he works around here? Or was walking past and wanted a coffee.
Unlikely, but possible.
Except the way he was walking right to me… The way he was staring at me… It felt intentional.
“Nero, my boy!” The voice comes again, and I turn my head to follow Nero as he stops across from an older overweight man in a blue suit.
How does he know—
“Mr. Mayor,” Nero greets him, taking the extended hand of the Mayor of Minneapolis.
“What an unexpected visitor to my little slice of heaven.” The mayor spreads his arms wide. “Have you eaten here before?”
Nero glances at the glass displays next to me. “I have not.”
“Of course not. Twin’s opens about the time you’re going to bed, I’d imagine.” The other man laughs. “And they close long before your night starts.”
“Indeed.” Nero’s tone is bland.
What does that mean?
Does Nero work some sort of night shift? In a suit?
The mayor gestures toward the empty seat at his table. “Come, come. Go order some lunch, then sit with me. I insist.”
Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping, I quickly avert my eyes. Though it’s hardly a private conversation, given how loud the mayor talks and the fact that the dining room is rather small.
“Alright.” Nero’s voice is followed by his footsteps, and I busy my hands, straightening a stack of napkins.
When I can no longer pretend I don’t hear him approaching, I look up.
My mouth is suddenly so dry, I have to wet my lips before I can speak.
I’m not sure what to say. He’s acting like we don’t know each other.
Do we know each other?
“I’ll take the turkey and bacon panini.” He holds my gaze while he says it, but that’s it. There’s no hello. No recognition or acting like I’m anything other than some girl taking his lunch order.
A lump builds in my throat, and I try so hard to keep the pain off my face.
I let my gaze drop and focus all my attention on typing his order onto the small screen in front of me.
When he doesn’t ask for more, I force myself to speak. “Would you like something to drink?”
There’s a beat before he replies. “Coconut honey latte.”
Hearing him repeat my favorite drink almost shocks me into looking up, but I force my eyes to stay lowered.
That can’t really be what he likes. Ordering it must be just another way to mess with me.
But… there’s no way for him to know that.
Maybe I really am losing my mind. Maybe our night together never even happened and I imagined it all.
Dread fuses with the hurt feelings building inside my chest.
Oh my god… What if none of it happened?
A man walking through my patio door, sitting on my couch, eating my popcorn… It’s crazy.
Leaving my patio door open for that same man to miraculously climb back through… to take my virginity… That’s insanity.
One long finger taps the counter, causing me to blink.
My hand lifts. “Are you real?” I whisper the question. Not meaning to, but not able to stop myself.
But he doesn’t answer me, and I don’t dare reach across the counter to see if he’s really there.
With shaky fingers, I type in the drink order. Hoping that there really is a man in front of me. That I didn’t make it all up.
The little display shows the total and instead of saying it out loud, I swivel the screen around so he can see it too.
A twenty gets set down on the counter, and I quickly make change, sliding the small stack of bills and coins across the counter.
I watch the hand that picks up the money, putting it back in his wallet. But before he closes the black leather, he pulls out a hundred-dollar bill, setting it down between us.
“I’m real, Sweet Girl.”
