Falling For Us Again

2. A DECADE LONG

Chapter 2

A DECADE LONG

Dylan

By the time I arrive at the café, Maggie is already there. I overslept, plagued by dreams of people who are no longer in my life.

Of her.

It's already past 8:00 AM, and I knew Maggie is going to give me an earful about it—like I would if she was ever late, though that hasn't actually happened yet. It’s become a silly joke between us.

The café is already buzzing with customers, their murmurs filling the air as they enjoy their breakfast in the cozy corners of my little haven. Opening The Hartlow House Café remains one of my proudest accomplishments.

Locals have affectionately nicknamed it "Little Looney," and the moniker has turned into an inside joke with our regulars.

As I step inside, the warm, rustic ambiance welcomes me. Baskets of flowers hang invitingly from the ceiling alongside the overhead beams. The stone-paved floors and flower-filled banquettes are complemented by the well-loved furniture, creating a homey atmosphere.

The familiar aroma of fresh coffee, oven-baked pastries, and flowers mingles in the air, creating a serene environment where the local townsfolk can unwind.

Old Jake, our most loyal customer, is already seated in his usual corner. He never misses a morning here, faithfully reading the Hartlow Daily while cradling a cup of coffee that’s likely gone cold by now. I glance at my watch—it’s 9:30 am. Maggie should be refreshing it any moment.

Old Jake stays at the café from open until noon every day, a routine that has become as comforting to me as it is to him.

“Mr. Anderson, so good of you to finally grace us with your presence,” Maggie says as she appears with a steaming cup of coffee for Old Jake, rolling her eyes.

“Good morning to you too, Maggie,” I say, walking past her to the counter. “Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“Just because you own the place doesn’t mean you can stroll in whenever you like,” she replies with a click of her tongue, handing Old Jake a croissant and placing the fresh cup of coffee on his table.

Old Jake’s eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles at her before returning to his newspaper.

“I’m sorry, boss. I say, feigning remorse. “I’ll be sure to do better next time.”

“You never take anything seriously, I swear.” She joins me behind the counter. “That must be why you went from being a Michelin-starred chef in LA to being back in Hartlow.”

“Ouch,” I say, clutching my chest in mock pain. “Come on, Maggie, you know that’s a touchy subject for Mrs. Anderson. You did wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

Maggie is my right hand at The Hartlow House Café. She’s a professional barista and a Hartlow native. We often joke about how our parents expected us to leave town in pursuit of bigger dreams, only for us to return and settle back in.

“Yes. I did.”

I laugh. “Well, that makes two of us. Couldn't fall asleep, and when I did it was nothing but crazy dreams.”

“Oh, really?” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Anything spicy?”

“Please,” I say, brushing off the comment as I glance at a vintage painting on the wall, though my mind is elsewhere. Flashes of the dream linger, starring a woman who’s now out of reach—a woman I’ve grown to despise. A pang of pain hits my chest at the thought of her.

She’s part of my past now. Long gone.

I press the button on the coffeemaker with more force than necessary, trying to push her memory out of my mind.

“It was just a weird dream,” I say, more to myself than to her.

“Hmm, care to share?” Maggie asks from the kitchen, where she’s mixing flour for a new batch of pancakes.

“Nah,” I reply, leaning against the counter as I watch her work. “It’s not important.”

“Hey Dylan, did you hear the news?” Sam Gelding calls from his table with a gap-toothed smile.

I turn to him with raised eyebrows. “What news?”

“Well, help me arrange a bouquet to celebrate Diane and I’s anniversary, and I’ll tell you.”

I chuckle. “Of course.”

I begin putting together roses and peonies, lavender, white calla lilies, sprigs of eucalyptus, and clusters of baby’s breath for their symbolism of everlasting love and purity. Satisfied with the arrangement, I wrap the bouquet in The Hartlow House Café Flower Cafe brown paper and tie it with a silk ivory ribbon.

“I wouldn't believe it if I was merely told, but I saw her myself.” Sam says to Jill, shaking his head as he speaks.

Dylan walks to his table with the fresh bouquet. “Here’s your bouquet, Sam. And happy anniversary!”

Sam grins and nudges him to sit on the empty chair next to Jill.

Just then, Old Jake raises his head, satisfactorily throwing the newspaper on the table.

“Have y'all heard? The Goldberg girl’s back in town. She arrived yesterday.” He says before sipping his coffee.

The cafe falls into silence for a moment as his words sink in. A pit forms in my stomach, and my head spins when I hear those words.

I was about to sit on the chair at Sam’s table when Old Jake drops the news; I stand suspended for a few seconds before crashing into it, the chair scraping in protest against the floor.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Old Jake!” Sam whines. “That was my news to tell.”

The cafe goes into murmurs and whispers as the other townspeople receive the information.

I clear my throat, trying to recover from my shock. “Goldberg girl?” I manage to say, but my words sound hollow even to my ears.

Jill clicks her tongue. “Jenna Goldberg, of course.”

My limbs quiver beneath the table, and I couldn't be more grateful to be sitting right now.

“You know her very well, don't you? Weren't you two young lovers back in the day?”

All I can do is weakly shake my head.

Just then, the café door swings open, and to my shock, in walks Jenna Goldberg, the very woman we were discussing.

I’d recognize those haunting blue eyes and silky blonde hair anywhere. Her hair flows past her shoulders now, longer than it was back in the day.

My chest tightens as she steps inside, her head held high with that same air of untouchability she wore in high school, even when everything around her was falling apart. She’s all legs and curves now, wearing a short, flowing dress that highlights her beauty and stirs long-buried feelings within me.

When she looks up, our eyes meet, and her heart-shaped lips part slightly with surprise. Even after all these years, she maintains that iron control over her emotions, blinking away as if she hadn’t seen me.

Without missing a beat, she strides to the counter.

“Hello,” she says, her voice soft and deceptively sweet. “I’d like two of these potted plants, an espresso, and some muffins, please.”

Maggie quickly gives instructions to Gia and Timmy in the kitchen before turning to attend to Jenna. Her eyes widen as she recognizes her.

“Jenna Goldberg?” She says in disbelief, her eyes darting over to me. I walk over to the counter.

“Yes. I'm sorry, do I know you?” Jenna says, peering at Maggie as if trying to recall who she is.

Maggie dusts off her hands on her apron, and I walk behind the counter to help her untie it. Jenna looks away, a bored expression on her face.

“Yeah, we went to high school together.”

Jenna gives a small smile. “I’m sorry you don’t look familiar.”

“No worries, welcome back. How long has it been?” Maggie says as she writes down her order. “Two pots of plant, an espresso, and muffins, right?”

“It’s been ten years. She left town on her eighteenth birthday.” I say, looking at her.

Jenna doesn't look at me, pretending to treat me like I’m not there. She has no right to be upset here. If there’s anyone who should be upset, that person is me.

“Dylan, can you help get the plants?” Maggie asks.

“Sure.”

Maggie gets busy preparing Jenna’s order while she walks to a nearby table to take a seat. I follow, sitting on the chair next to her, and she raises an eyebrow at me.

“What kind of plant do you want?”

“Peacock.”

I lean on the table. “So, you breeze into town after ten years, and we’re just going to act like we don't know each other?”

“I think it’s best, don’t you?” Her blue eyes meet mine, and her lips part in the same familiar way when she’s nervous.

“I suppose it is.” I lean back into the chair, my eyes taking her in. “You look well. Life has been good to you.”

“It has.”

Her hands twist the napkin on the table, and I know that behind that seemingly aloof facade are frayed nerves.

“This is a nice café. I don’t remember it from before.”

“It wasn’t there before. And it’s mine.”

I can see the surprise in her eyes. “You've always wanted this. Congratulations.”

Her words are like daggers to my chest because they reminded me of the day I told her about my dream of owning a cafe in town.

“Thanks. I hear you're an author now. Writing stories about escaping. Fitting for you.”

Her eyes narrow at the underlying implication of my words, but she doesn't question it. “Thanks.” She looks around. “The town’s changed.”

“Of course it has. It’s been ten years, Jenna, but well, who's counting?” A tone of irritation slips into my voice.

“Clearly you are. You've been waiting for me?” She mocks.

I chuckle without looking at her. “Why would I do that?”

Maggie brings her a cup of espresso, raising her eyebrows at me, but I give her a tight smile.

Jenna sips on her espresso carefully; her pink tongue slips over her lips and my stomach tightens.

She tucks her blonde hair behind her ears. “I see you're still holding on to the past. Maybe that's why you never moved out of town. Stuck in the same place, doing the same thing and resenting others for moving on to better things.”

“I’m not the one who's back in a town I claimed that I was never coming back to.”

Her hands tighten on the cup. It’s a sore subject, but she started it. There's something about Jenna that makes me lose control; she knows me so well and knows how to press my buttons.

“I'm only here to sell off my parent's property and to finally put closure to this town and the misery it put me through. You know better than to use this town against me, but I can't say I'm surprised.”

I scoff bitterly. “I'm not the one that left without so much as an explanation. You left me hanging for 10 years, Jenna. Forgive me if I’m not exactly excited to see you.”

“I don't need you excited to see me, and I didn’t leave anything hanging. We were done. There’s nothing left between us.”

“If there’s nothing left between us, then why are you fidgeting? Why are you so angry?”

A mirthless laughter rolls out of her. “Angry? More like annoyed by your never-ending questions.”

“Alright then.” I stand up. “I’ll get your plants.”

I walk away to get her plants, but I can sense her eyes throwing daggers at my back. Maggie shuffles by to serve her order.

It’s been a decade since I’ve last seen her, and I’m surprised how seeing her now raises a mess of emotions in me. My hurt from her abrupt departure had turned to resentment and anger. Maybe it’s better that way. Like she said, there’s nothing left between us.

Jenna is already standing up to leave when I return with her plants. I wanted to offer to help her carry them to her car, but instead I hand them over to her without a word. Our fingers brush as she receives it, and an electric charge passes through me. I brush her hand with my thumb subconsciously like I used to and she snatches her hand away from mine as if burned.

“See you around, Jenna,” I say in a low voice. She doesn’t say a word as she heads out.

I should’ve known I’d have a miserable day when I saw her in my dream this morning.