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True.

“I haven’t noticed.”

“You have.” She laughs, picking up my straw wrapper.

“I haven’t.”

“You're blushing.”

Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“Is this how you treat all your customers?”

“If you mean whether I’ve been daydreaming about two of my most loyal customers falling madly in love in my café so that I’m mentioned at the wedding, then yes. Things get a little repetitive here, and my imagination helps pass the time.” She cocks her hip to the side and arches an eyebrow at me.

I grin up at her despite the smoothie feeling lumpy in my stomach.

If Jenny has noticed our animosity, then maybe others have too. Maybe someone knows about the girl in the café, and they’ll come looking for me.

She heads back to the counter and then returns with a coffee cup in hand. I frown, and not because I don’t like coffee or order it. But I just wouldn’t order it from here. I had it once on a particularly tired day, and let’s just say it isn’t their best drink on offer. It does make me wonder if he’s ever actually had anything good.

“What’s this for?”

“If you bump into him, you should give it to him. He orders the same thing every time, so it’s the right order.”

“I can’t just give a random man a coffee,” I splutter.

“Not random, and who knows what might happen? He might end up being the love of your life.” She slides the coffee toward me using the tips of her fingers. Risky move, given how clumsy I know she is. She once spilled an entire drink on me.

“Doubtful,” I mutter.

“Well, maybe the universe will throw you a bone. And besides, he's got to be better than Travis. I saw the video he and Millie posted, by the way. How are you feeling?”

“It’s stressful for sure. I’m not sure whether to take any legal action or not, but overall the support online seems to be okay. The odd few comments are negative.”

She nods before getting distracted by another customer.

Before she has the chance to return and pepper me with more questions, I pick up the black coffee and head home.

???

“Hey, I brought you a coffee from Squeeze the Day,” I call out, stepping down into the basement.

“Rule number two, Killer: don’t give your hostage anything hot that they could throw at you.”

His voice is husky and sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. Each syllable reminds me he’s real and he’s here.

“Well, it’s a bit cold now, to be honest. But it would ruin my outfit if you threw it at me, so I’d appreciate it if you drank it instead.” I wink.

“Just a thought.” He takes a sip.

“What’s rule number one?”

“Don’t come within touching distance.”

I laugh. “Well, I’ve done that a few times. But I think I’ll be fine. We’ve accepted the fact that you don’t mind being chained up for some reason, and besides”—I shrug—“you like me.”

“Rule number three.”