Page 8 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

“Okay.” My fist clutches the silverware still in my hand so tightly that it digs into my palm. I’m aware I should unclench, but I don’t. The pain is helping me focus.

“I just want to talk.” His hands wring together as he composes what he wants to say. I’ve seen this gesture before. He’s nervous. “It’s been six months. You’ve been avoiding me for six months .”

Why does everyone keep throwing that timeline at me? My hand stays clenched. Somewhere in the back of my brain, pain sensors are going off, but I don’t listen to them.

“Right,” I manage to say.

He regards me, eyes big and soft. “Six months is a long time. Why are we still doing this?”

Because I love you and you don’t love me. The answer is simple to me. I don’t understand why it isn’t simple to him.

I don’t respond, so he says quietly, “I miss you, Ben. I miss my friend.”

I still don’t reply, like my jaw is wired shut. What is wrong with me? I have never been one with nothing to say.

“Ben.”

But it’s not David saying my name. It’s Linny. David seems just as surprised to see her as I am. I forgot she was here.

She’s beside me. Where did she come from? She’s taking my hand, prying my fingers open to remove the silverware, letting it clatter down on the front counter.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” she scolds softly, massaging my hand open as it still attempts to clench closed.

The pain radiates through me. How tightly was I holding the cutlery?

David’s shoulders sag as he looks at my hand.

“Ben,” he says quietly, so much pity in that voice.

Or perhaps it’s caring. He does care about me.

I know he does, which is what has made this so difficult to get through.

Maybe if he hated me, it would be easier to get over him.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to cause by avoiding him.

“How long are you going to stay angry with me?” His eyes find mine again.

That shocks me back to reality. “I’m not angry with you.”

David cocks his head. “Then why…?”

Linny’s hand removes from mine. “I should go,” she says gently, as though trying not to disturb us. But I snatch her hand before she can leave. I need something to hold on to. Desperately. Someone to ground me.

“I’m trying…” I groan, dragging my free hand down my face. “Because I’m stupid, mate. Why else? Stupid and mortified. And I thought…well, figured you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. To keep yourself safe from my…lustful thoughts.”

He cracks a small smile. “Eloquently put. No, Ben. No. I still want to be your friend. I still am your friend. I miss you.” He glances at Linny, holding tightly to my hand. I’m not looking at her, but I can feel her eyes on me. “You’re not still…?”

“No,” I lie. “Of course not. I mean, it’s been six months, like you said. I’ve opened a whole café in that time. All the time in the world.” I squeeze Linny’s hand to remind me that she’s there—and to remind myself that I’m here. “I’ve moved on.”

David gawks between Linny and me, a realization in his eyes. “Right. Okay. Wow.” Relief crosses his face. “Good for you, man.”

I should correct him since he has the wrong idea. I don’t. Linny must not have seen what David saw, so she doesn’t go to correct him either.

“So, friends again?” he asks hopefully.

I force a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Sorry I’ve been so…so me .”

He tips his head sympathetically. “I love when you’re you, Ben.”

That guts me, but I don’t let it show. The smile stays plastered on my face even though everything inside me is crying out in pain. Why does it still feel like this? Why is my heart still crumbling in his presence?

I suggest, “Can we get dinner soon?”

I’m trying. See, I’m trying .

David lights up. “Yeah. Yeah, good idea.” He looks like he wants to hug me, but I am still pressed against the wall on the other side of the counter, so he can’t. “I’ll text you.”

“I promise I’ll answer.” My eyes skirt around the café. “I-I have to close.”

“Right. Sorry. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Old me would have made a joke about how I wanted him in my hair, not really knowing what I meant by that. This me just asks, “Did you want anything before you go?”

He points to the glass case. “Scone?”

“Sure.” I finally push myself away from the wall to reach inside the case and grab the pastry. In doing so, I let go of Linny’s hand. The calm air she spread over me vanishes. With my hand visibly shaking, I pass the scone to David. “On the house.”

“Thanks,” he says, offering one last smile. “I’ll see you later?”

“Aye. Later.”

David exits, and I sprint to twist the bolt behind him. Once the door is locked, I keel over with my hands on my knees, heaving like I just raced across town, not to the door. My vision is blurry as I suck in a staggered breath.

“Ben,” Linny says, coming up to me and placing a small hand on my back. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “No. No, I am not okay. Fuck .” I stand up straight, her hand losing its place on my back.

“I’m a fucking mess.” I swing my arm out in the direction of the street.

“I am desperately in love with the man who just walked out that door, and I lied to him about it because I have spent so much time trying to get over him but failing over and over again.” I aggressively shove a hand through my hair.

“Sorry. I don’t need to be dumping this on you. ”

“I don’t mind,” she says.

“Well, you should. I’m just the madman who owns the café next to your shop.” I exhale, eyes closing in defeat. “Who may have implied to my best mate that you and I are dating.”

She reels back. “What? I missed that.”

“I figured.”

“We’re not dating, though.”

“I know that,” I snap. I huff out a sharp sigh. “Sorry. Lin, I need to close up.”

“Right. I’ll leave.” She swiftly unlocks the front door and departs before I can say another word.

The sight of her abandoned coffee on the front counter makes my head hang. It’s fine. I’ll apologize tomorrow.

…

I slip away as soon as the café gets less busy and Isla gives me permission to leave, coffee in hand. Carolyn is behind the counter when I enter the antique shop. Her eyes crinkle. “Bennett. Hello.”

“Carolyn, just the woman I was looking for.” I hand over one of the coffees. “Same order as yesterday, so I hope you liked it.”

She simpers as she accepts the drink. “Oh, sweet boy. Thank you. Aye, yes. It was lovely.” She eyes the cup still in my hand. “Though, I assume I’m not the only woman you’re hoping to find in this shop.”

My expression drops in faux guilt. “You caught me. Is Linny here?”

“In the back, dear.”

I take that as permission enough to push through the curtains to the office.

When I do, I see Linny with her back to me, hair pulled into two French plaits behind her head.

She’s organizing items on a shelf while talking on her wireless headphones.

She scoots a cardboard box of teacups to the side to make room for a few vases, arranging them in a straight line.

“No, it’s fine,” she says. “I mean, of course I don’t want to see him, but I can be an adult about it…Yes…Yes…Yes…Okay…I know… Mel .” She sighs. “What are you going to do? Uninvite him? He’s Julien’s cousin…You can’t do that…I know. Thanks.”

The call must end because she groans loudly as she drops her forehead to the shelf in front of her.

Well, shite. It’s weird that I’m standing here watching her. I have two options. One, hope those headphones started playing music so she won’t hear as I retreat as fast as I possibly can. Or two, clear my throat.

Old Ben would choose option two, so I choose option two: I clear my throat. She whips around quickly to face me, hand on her heart .

“What are you doing back here?”

I hold out the coffee in a gesture. “Apologizing?”

She removes her headphones and stomps over to me, snatching the takeaway cup from my hand. “For?” From her tone, I can tell she knows what for.

“Snapping at you yesterday after you were very kind to me. And for not thanking you for keeping me from spiraling. I’m sorry. I’m an arsehole. Everyone says so.”

Her expression softens. “I don’t think you’re an asshole.”

“ Arse hole.”

“Arsehole,” she repeats, a smile pulling at her lips.

“Correct,” I commend. I peer at her seriously. “Today it seems my turn to ask: you alright?”

“Oh, grand. My cousin has informed me that her hen do next weekend will actually be a joint hen and stag do.”

“Oh?”

“My ex-fiancé is one of the groomsmen.”

“Oh. The tall one.” I purse my lips. “Still not his biggest fan?”

“ He is an asshole. And now I have to spend the entire weekend with him. Which would be fine if I knew someone besides my cousin and her maid of honor, but I don’t really know her other friends.

I’ve met some before, and they’re nice and all, but they don’t get it.

Even Kensie doesn’t really understand. I mean, why would any of them?

But, if it wasn’t her hen do, it’d be fine and she could be with me and help me if I needed it, but for this, I don’t want to be a distraction.

I don’t want Mel to worry about me. But she will even though I’m an adult who can take care of myself.

The bars we’ll be bouncing between will be dark and Atti’ll be an absolute dick every time I bump into something and I can’t fucking handle—”

I hold my hands out in a halting gesture. “ Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ginger Spice, take a breath.”

There is fire in her eyes as she glares up at me. But she forces herself to take a deep breath in through her nostrils, her lips pinched in a tight line.

Calmly, I say, “I’m missing something. Why are dark bars a concern? Do you think he’s going to try and hurt you in one of them?”

Her brow furrows. “What? Oh. No. He’s an asshole, but not that kind.” She sighs. “Sorry. Uh, I’m night blind.”

Understanding dawns on me. “Not the kind that eating a bunch of carrots would help, I guess?”

She snorts. “No. The kind where the cones in my eyes are mutating and killing the rods.”

“Non-technical speak, please.”