Page 31 of For My Finale

B lossom walked through the village with her hands tucked into her pockets.

It wasn’t quite autumn yet, but there was a slight chill in the air, a sign of things to come.

Today was the day. She knew it. But she wasn’t changing her route, she was going to hold her head high and walk the way she always did.

The garish sign of Coffee-To-Go flickered and buzzed, she could see that the doors were open. Her stomach churned, but still she walked.

Until she noticed something strange.

The shiny new cafe, with its modern pine and white interior and overwhelming smell of burned espresso, was completely empty.

Not a single person inside. No customers sipping lattes, no one queuing for cappuccinos.

The expensive looking machines hissed behind the counter, a bored looking barista tapped on her phone, but there was no one to serve.

She hesitated, blinking, part of her kind of wanting to go and order something just to be nice. Then, shaking off her confusion, she hurried away, down the street toward her own shop.

The second she turned the corner, she saw it. A crowd of people outside. A real crowd. Her heart thumped. The line stretched from the door, winding down the pavement .

“About time,” Daisy grumbled as Blossom got to the door. “There’s thirsty people here.”

“What’s all this?” frowned Blossom.

“What does it look like?” Daisy said with a laugh. “We could hardly open without you, could we?”

Blossom swallowed back the lump in her throat as she unlocked the door.

The bell jingled merrily and the first customers piled in, chattering happily as they found seats or lined up at the counter.

Her regulars were there, of course, George and Mrs. Wilkins, Arty, Ida from the museum and Mabel in a big red hat.

And there were faces she didn’t immediately recognize, lured by the fundraiser, by the buzz that was starting to surround the cafe.

Blossom looked around in wonder. She’d done this. They’d done this. The community had rallied around her, not some soulless franchise with overpriced, overcomplicated drinks.

“Any chance of a brew?” Daisy asked impatiently. “I’ve got a round to start.”

As she busied herself behind the counter, Blossom’s hands were steady, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. The worry, the doubt, she never should have let it creep in.

She turned around with a tray just in time to see Arty knock a nearly full milk jug straight off the counter. It hit the ground with a loud splatter, white liquid spreading in a puddle across the tiles.

“Oops,” Blossom said, nothing was going to ruin her good mood today.

“Oops,” echoed Arty, already reaching for a handful of napkins. “Sorry about that, I’ve got it.”

The door swung open and in swept Gloria, wearing a coat of bright emerald-green and a look of importance. “Blossom, Blossom,” she sang as she came in. “I’ve had a thought, and I think what’s missing is that we definitely—”

She stepped forward, straight into the puddle of milk. Her feet flew out from under her, and with a yelp, she went down hard. The entire cafe turned to look .

Daisy was at her side in an instant, kneeling down. “Are you okay?”

Gloria winced, rubbing at her ankle. “I think it’s just a sprain, nothing to worry about.”

Blossom put her hands on her hips, reconsidering her resolution that nothing could ruin her mood. “You’d better be fine, Gloria. Opening night is on Friday.”

With a dismissive hand wave, Gloria tutted, “Oh, please, a little injury won’t keep me from my adoring public. The show must always go on, remember! I shall be fine.”

Daisy helped Gloria up and started to lead her toward the door. “Come on, let’s get some ice on that.”

“I shall have to lounge all day,” Gloria was saying, looking quite pleased with the idea, although her face was whiter than Blossom really thought it should be.

“Sorry,” Arty said, looking sheepish. “I’ll get a mop out of the back, shall I?”

Blossom nodded. “Might be for the best,” she said as she got back to work. If anything, the line had gotten longer as she’d been distracted.

It wasn’t until much later in the morning that she had a moment to herself.

The initial rush finally calmed by around ten as people got off to work and shopping and wherever else they had to be.

There was a handful of customers, but they’d all been served.

So Blossom was wiping down the counter and stacking dishes.

Someone had left a newspaper, so she wiped her hands on her apron and picked it up, intending to throw it away, but stopping short when she saw the picture.

There it was. Lilah’s face, staring back at her from the page. A huge article with a bold headline, the words taking up most of the space. Lilah Paxton’s Big Comeback: New Film, New Future?

Blossom’s chest tightened as she scanned the words.

She couldn’t help herself, it was painful, but she had to read it, had to know what Lilah was doing now.

The interview was nothing special, it covered Lilah’s quitting, her unexpected return, rumors about her upcoming film.

But what stopped Blossom cold was near the bottom of the page.

When asked about rumors of a new romance, Paxton laughed and said, ‘No one can capture the heart of Lilah Paxton.’

Blossom’s stomach dropped, her heart cracked. She read the line again, hoping that she’d misread it. But there it was, in black and white. Lilah had denied her. Denied them. It was almost as if nothing had happened.

Blossom set the paper down, her fingers trembling slightly.

She should have known better. She did know better. She’d already told herself to stop thinking about Lilah, to stop holding onto something that clearly wasn’t meant to be. But seeing those words, seeing Lilah so effortlessly dismiss their time together, it made her heart break all over again.

She knew deep down that Lilah wouldn’t have meant to be flip about it, that she’d done what she’d had to do, that she hadn’t meant to be hurtful. This was Lilah’s way of moving on, Blossom could see that. So maybe it was time that she moved on as well.

She took a deep breath, pushing the hurt down.

She had her cafe, her customers, her friends.

She had a future to focus on, plans to make.

The expansion into the bookshop, the play, she had things to do.

Still, as she looked around the little cafe, there was an emptiness in her chest that no amount of work was ever going to fill.

Lilah was gone. And Blossom had to find a way to live with that.

???

The shrill ring of the hotel phone jolted Lilah out of her thoughts.

She’d been staring at the window, watching the slow drizzle of London rain streak the glass.

She hadn’t slept. How could she? The interview, the weight of Margot’s words, the crushing loneliness of her hotel suite.

It had all tangled together in her head, leaving her feeling restless and raw .

She ignored the phone the first time, but it rang again, insistent. With a sigh, she finally reached for it. “Yes?”

“Ms. Paxton, someone is here looking for you,” the receptionist said, her voice polite and firm.

Lilah stiffened. “Who?”

“They didn’t give a name, just asked if you were available. I thought it best to inform you, it’s hotel policy.”

The press, most likely. Again. They were relentless, circling like vultures now that she was back in their world. Her first instinct was to tell the receptionist to send them away. But instead, she simply muttered, “I’m not available,” and hung up.

The knock on her door sounded almost immediately after she put the phone down and Lilah groaned.

“Don’t ignore me,” Margot’s voice came through the door. “We have a meeting with Martin Leyland at four. Don’t be late.”

Lilah hesitated before cracking the door open. Margot stood there in an impeccable navy blazer and trousers, her hair perfectly styled, phone in one hand, espresso in the other. She looked Lilah up and down with a critical eye.

“You look terrible,” Margot said bluntly.

“I feel terrible,” Lilah shot back, stepping aside to let her in.

She did feel terrible. But a thought was starting to coalesce in her mind.

There weren’t only two options. It wasn’t have Blossom or have a career.

There was a third option, one in which she chose neither of those things.

One where she disappeared somewhere else altogether.

Margot made a beeline for the couch, perching on the edge of the arm like she didn’t intend to stay long. “Well, get yourself together. This is a massive opportunity, Lilah. Martin Leyland.”

Lilah bit her lip and folded her arms. “I don’t think I want this anymore.”

There was a second of silence, then Margot stood up. “Bullshit.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest,” Lilah corrected. “This life just isn’t for me anymore.”

Margot put her phone in her pocket just so that she could pinch the bridge of her nose like she was getting a migraine.

“You don’t get to just walk away, Lilah.

We’ve talked about this. You built this career.

We built it. We fought for it. We sacrificed for it.

You’re not just throwing it away for… for whatever this phase is. ”

Lilah let out a breath. There was no arguing with Margot when she got like this. She said nothing.

Margot narrowed her eyes. “I’ll see you later for the meeting.”

With that, she tottered out on her heels, espresso still in hand.

Lilah waited until the door clicked shut before running a hand through her hair. She needed air, needed to think.

She grabbed a scarf and a pair of dark glasses, disguising herself the best she could, and decided to take the stairs rather than the elevator. Whoever had been looking for her was probably still lurking about.

When she stepped out into the hotel foyer, she kept her head down, moving briskly toward the back entrance. But then…

Lilah’s step faltered.

She took a second look, heart pounding.

Sitting calmly in one of the lobby chairs, looking completely at ease in an old leather jacket and a pair of scuffed boots, as though she belonged in the pristine, marble-floored world, was a familiar figure. Her legs were crossed, one foot bouncing idly, but her eyes were sharp, scanning the room.

Lilah’s breath caught.

Ives was here.