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After that, I start seeing him there more regularly. Sometimes once or twice a week, sometimes more, but always on a Friday, I notice.
Sometimes he’s a few steps ahead of me, holding the door open with a quiet ‘Morning’ – soft, low, and utterly unbothered – like he has no idea that every time he says it, I find myself wishing I could wake up to him whispering that in my ear.
Other times, one of us is already in the queue and the other joins, trading sleepy pre-caffeinated eye rolls or muttering complaints about early meetings.
And the days I see him there are my favourite parts of my entire week.
***
JUNE 2023
Despite it being bright sunshine all last week, in typical British fashion, the weather has gone completely rogue overnight. Rain is coming down in sheets, a cold wind whipping through the air like it’s winter all over again. I’m running late because I couldn’t decide what to wear, having already transitioned fully into summer mode.
And I’m freaking out, because it’s Friday, theoneday I’ve beenguaranteedto see Marcus at the coffee shop these past few months. If he’s already gone by the time I get there, I might just cry.
I finally manage to get out the door, shoving my feet into my wellies and grabbing the world’s most useless umbrella, speed-walking as fast as I can to the coffee shop.
I burst through the door, breathless and soaked, convinced I must be too late.
But he’s there. Standing at the pick-up end of the counter. Two cups in hand.
His dark coat is speckled with silver rain drops, his hair slightly damp and tousled from the wind, and somehow, he looks even better for it, while I’m here praying that I don’t look like a drowned rat.
“Hey,” he smiles. “I took the chance you were just running late and not hit by a car or something.” He passes me one of the cups like it’s the most casual thing ever. Like he buys me coffee every day.
“Thank you,” I say. “You really didn’t have to.”
I bring the cup to my mouth, taking a sip, and it’s my standard caramel oat latte.
He remembered my order. Like it’s nothing.
It’s fuckingeverything.
Chapter 5
AUGUST 2023
Istare at the Camera icon on my Teams app, my cursor hovering over it like I’m about to press a detonator. I’ve already been up to the fifth floor twice today – once with an excuse that I was looking for Stephen, and the second time I admitted I was looking for Marcus because I have an actual work question I need to ask him.
Reid, one of the Project Managers who works beside him, mentioned he was working from home and that I could call him on Teams.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I click the call button and immediately regret it. I frantically smooth my hair and adjust my blouse as the dial tone rings through my headset. Good thing the headphones look cute.
One ring. Two rings. I consider hanging up.
Three rings –
“Lila, hey.” Marcus Andersson’s face appears on my screen, and I nearly choke on my own breath.
He’s not wearing a suit. Not even a formal shirt. He’s in a plain black t-shirt that somehow makes his shoulders look broader than ever. His hair is more tousled than slicked back, soft and slightly unruly, and he’s wearing glasses. Square frames that somehow make his eyes look even more intense than usual.
Since when does he wear glasses?
My brain stops working, unable to form a single word.
“Sorry, I- um,” I say, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched. “Reid mentioned you were working from home and -”
“Yea, sorry, I don’t usually like to, but my boiler’s being replaced. I should have mentioned it in the meeting yesterday. What’s up?”