Forever Mine

Present

The familiar smell of coffee diffused the residual sleep from my eyes. I smiled as I watched the pot brewing and waiting for the first customer to step through and order their usual.

I’d woken up to an unusual feeling bubbling in my chest and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t figure out the cause of this strange heaviness.

The sound of the doorbell pulled my attention from my cryptic thoughts and I smiled when I saw my best friend sauntering in. A glance at the clock told me she was right on time, as always.

“Good morning, Helena,” I said, removing the coffee pot and pouring the freshly brewed coffee in a cup. I added a splash of milk along with a cube of sugar and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

“I love you so much,” she said as she took a sip and sighed in bliss, her hazel eyes sparkling with life. “You make the best coffee.”

“I highly doubt that, but thank you,” I said as the ding of the oven alerted me. I turned around and pulled out the tray of freshly baked cookies, setting them on the counter to cool.

“You know I’m right. There’s a reason why Java Jargon is the most popular cafe in the entire city. Millionaires and billionaires come here to have coffee, so save your modesty for someone who doesn’t know you, Saylor,” she stated with a roll of her eyes as she took a healthy gulp of coffee.

“Whatever. Finish your coffee and put these cookies on display and start preparing the muffins. Customers will be arriving soon and today’s target is ten thousand,” I told her.

She gave me a salute and took another sip. “Got it, boss. And ten thousand is nothing. We’ll make that much before noon.”

“Don’t be overconfident,” I chided, grabbing a rag from the hanger and heading to the corner to clean the table tops.

“It’s a fact and you know it,” she stated as she went around the front counter to the kitchen at the back.

I sighed and wiped the table tops, fixing the chairs as I went. This cafe was my pride and joy and I wouldn’t compromise its reputation for anything. This place was everything when I had nothing and I wanted it to be special for every person in this city.

Once everything was spotless, I headed back to the main counter to prepare another batch of coffee. I smiled as the ding of my cellphone alerted me to the text from the supplier, letting me know the batch of ingredients was on its way. However, the smile died down when I saw the date flashing on the screen.

July 16th.

I bit my lip as my mind did the math and gave me the answer. Ten years. It had been ten years since I last saw him.

His beautiful face materialized in my mind and I bit back a curse as I tried to eradicate the very thought of him from my memory, but it was no use. He refused to leave. My mind refused to let go of him.

Those dark eyes that shifted from gray to brown depending on his mood. The strong, aristocratic nose. The sharp cheekbones and the chiseled jaw. Those sensuous lips that never failed to make my body come alive under their ministrations.

“Stop it,” I hissed, angrily. “Stop thinking about him. He’s gone now. I’m better off without him.”

But he wasn’t gone and I knew I’d never forget about him. Nobody forgot their first love.

Just because I couldn’t see him didn’t mean he’d disappeared. It had been ten years since I last saw him. Ten years since the police took him away. But even the span of a decade wasn’t enough to make me forget the look he gave me as he was dragged away. The look that promised his return.

I will come back.

It didn’t matter if he came back. At least, that’s what I told myself. I was in a place he could never find me. I’d moved away and would never look back. Even if he came back he’d wouldn’t find me where he left me.

“What are you staring at?” Helena’s voice jarred me back to the present. I turned my phone over so she couldn’t see, but I should know better than to hide anything from my best friend.

Her face paled and her eyes widened, letting me know that my attempt at hiding today’s date was futile.

“How long has it been?” She asked but answered the question before I could. “Ten years.”

“I know how long it’s been. And it’s not important,” I said. The discomfort from earlier returned and I wished somebody could tell me why I was feeling that way.

“Do you miss him?” She asked, her eyes glued to my face.

“I don’t,” I said with a little more force than necessary. “How can I miss him? He’s a monster. A…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t make myself admit the truth about him, even though I knew exactly what it was.

“Right,” she said, clearly not believing me. And I didn’t know how to make her believe. “Don’t focus on that. The first customer will be here any minute. The muffins are done.” She shook the tray of perfectly baked muffins with an exaggerated smile.

I nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” I was glad for the change of subject because I no longer had the heart to talk about him. I should though. It had been so long. I should be able to talk about him without my body breaking out into cold sweat. People moved on. Why couldn’t I move on?

For the next twenty minutes I tried to focus on getting everything ready for the customers. Helena baked a cake and another batch of cookies and just as I put them on display, the door opened and the first customer walked in.

My face broke into a professional smile which I reserved for all my customers as she stopped in front of me.

“Hello, welcome to Java Jargon, what would you like?” I asked her.

The woman in her mid-thirties rattled off her order before taking a seat at one of the tables. I hurried to the coffee machine and prepared her order. A group of three men sauntered in and Helena took that as her cue to go and take their order. They were one of our regulars and I loved seeing them start their day with our coffee. Each customer was precious to me but the regulars were a bit more special.

As more and more customers began coming I pushed my demons to the back of my mind and allowed my work to sweep me away. This was what was good for me. As long as I focused on work, I was happy. I was safe.

However, the feeling of dread persisted as the hours passed by, forcing my mind to split in two. On one hand I wanted to take a break and go back to my house to untangle this unfamiliar miasma of emotions but at the same time I wanted to work harder so this strange heaviness could be swept away. In the end, my workaholic tendencies won out and I threw myself into work, taking and delivering orders as fast as I could. By the time we closed for lunch, I was exhausted, feeling a delicious ache in my muscles.

“I told you we’ll make ten thousand before noon. We’ve collected just over eleven thousand and we still have six more hours to go,” Helena stated as she counted the money in the cash register.

“We’ve reached our target, that’s all that matters to me,” I said, resting my head on my arms and closing my eyes.

“You should set a higher target,” she said, closing the register; the sound ricocheting through my synapses.

“If I do that and we don’t make it, then I’ll feel bad,” I told her.

“Always playing it safe, huh Saylor?” she remarked and I could hear her walking over to where I was sitting at one of the tables.

“I like being safe. Don’t you like being safe?” I asked, opening my eyes and raising my head to look at her sitting across from me.

Helena shook her head. “Nah, safe is boring. I love the uncertainty.”

I rolled my eyes. “You won’t like it if you actually deal with it.”

She shrugged, a strand of hair coming loose from her mahogany bun. “Uncertainty is exciting. And I love a thrill.”

Thrill. The word caused goosebumps to flutter over my skin; my body thrumming with familiarity.

“You’re crazy,” I muttered, during my best to keep my face neutral because I didn’t want her to know I was once again thinking about him. What was it about this particular day that resurrected him in my psychological reality? Why did every cell in my body thrummed with excitement whenever his face flashed in front of my eyes?

“And you’re boring.” She pouted and huffed. “What do you want for lunch?”

“I’m not hungry,” I answered.

Helena scowled. “This is the third day you’re going without having lunch. It’s not healthy, Saylor.”

“Who cares about health?” I muttered and dropped my head down to my arms. How could I tell her the rocks sitting in my stomach wouldn’t let me eat no matter how hungry I was. Not today. “I’ll eat tomorrow.” The rocks would disappear by then.

“Well I’m going to order pasta,” she said. “Can you wake up? I need to talk to you about something.”

“What?” I raised my head once again.

“I’m thinking of taking Fitz somewhere for the weekend but I don’t know where to take him,” she said. Fitz was her long term boyfriend and I was just waiting for him to propose because they’d been dating since college.

“Weekend? I don’t think the weather will be good,” I said.

“Who says?” She asked, a frown forming on her forehead.

“I saw it on the news when the person was talking about the weather. They’re expecting a storm,” I replied.

“Impossible. Look outside, the sun is bright and harsh.”

“It’s the weather; it’s always changing,” I said.

“It hasn’t rained in quite a while, so I don’t think it’ll rain. Maybe you watched the forecast a month or two ago,” she replied, clearly not believing me. “I’ll just check on my phone.”

“I don’t trust the weather apps,” I stated. “They’re always changing. The news is accurate.”

Helena rolled her eyes. “Alright, turn on the TV. Let’s see what the weatherman has to say. I need the weather to be okay this weekend. I think Fitz will finally propose.”

I got up to fetch the remote control behind the counter and turned on the flatscreen which was mounted on the wall in the corner. I flipped the news channel before taking a seat.

“Here. You can watch this. It’s live. I’m sure they’ll come to the weather soon,” I told her just as she took a seat adjacent to me.

The news anchor was talking about some politician and the latest statement issued by them regarding some educational policy before the screen split in two with the news lady on the left and the view of a private jet landing on the right.

The sight of the jet made my blood run cold as recognition shot through my senses. It was a private jet like any other, but it was the logo on the airplane’s tail that had fear clogging my throat.

Lashbroke.

“The latest piece of news just came in..,” the news anchor said, a wide smile on her airbrushed face. The camera on the right showed the door of the private jet opening as a staircase was wheeled in front of it.

“No,” I heard myself say, but my voice was nothing but a whisper. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.

“Saylor?” Helena said but I couldn’t look at her.

His glorious profile filled the screen as the camera zoomed in. I wanted to blink. I wanted to get rid of the horror paralyzing me as recognition slammed into me, knocking the wind out of me.

It was him. I didn’t want it to be him but I knew it was him. Every bone in my body sung with familiarity as he descended the staircase, a confident smile plastered on his beautiful face as the camera recorded his every move.

“The ruthless tycoon, Hunter Lashbroke…” the news anchor said, but I’d tuned her out. I didn’t need her to tell me what my soul knew. I didn’t need anybody to tell me who this man was.

“Saylor, change the channel,” Helena said but her voice sounded far away. Trivial. Insignificant. It was just like how it was ten years ago; when he was in front of me, nothing else mattered. Nobody else mattered. The world fell away until all I could do was see him; hear him; touch him. Love him.

He was wearing a charcoal gray suit with a burgundy tie. Burgundy. His favorite color. His lucky color.

The same burgundy as my hair.

His dark hair danced in the wind, and even though I was seeing him on TV, my fingers tingled with the familiar need to run through the luscious locks.

“Has finally returned from Switzerland after ten years…”

I watched his loafers step onto the tarmac before the camera followed him all the way to a black Aston Martin with the passenger side door opened. He stopped in front of the car and rested his hand on top before turning his gorgeous face to the camera.

“He will be resuming office and plans to expand his business to various other countries…”

My hands shook from under the table as I looked at him; looked into the eyes that haunted my dreams. And though he was looking at the camera, I swear it felt like he was looking straight at me. I wasn’t sure if it was for me or for the world, but the message in those gray eyes was clear:

Hunter Lashbroke was back. And he wasn’t going anywhere.