He Saved Me

CHAPTER 1

"I can't believe you are going through with this. I think I might cry."My best friend Abigail shrieked, clutching her chest with both arms as she watched me looking into the full-length mirror admiring the dress she lent me.

She had spent the last five days trying to convince me to come with her to her father's birthday party. The first time she mentioned it, I immediately declined.

I wouldn't be caught dead in a fancy rich party with consequential people I don't know. Besides, I'll be too self-conscious." I had thought. The second time, my response was the same as the first.

What do they say about the third time being a Charm?"

The third time she asked I had to give in because my best friend was relentlessly stubborn and wouldn't take no for an answer. She went as far as making a PowerPoint presentation on how the party was going to be fun and I wouldn't be alone because she'd be with me most of the time.

We met last summer at the coffee shop I used to work in. Marcel, my boss, was the grumpiest French man I'd ever met in my life. He was fond of calling me names and lashing out at me at any slight inconvenience.

was throwing his usual tantrums when Abigail stood up to him and defended me. We hit it off right away thereafter. She made me quit my job with Marcel and offered me another job at a place she claimed to be owned by a colleague of hers.

"Hmmm" I breathed out an unintentional sigh of relief

I glanced earnestly at myself in the mirror. The maroon velvet dress sits upon my skin elegantly adding color to my pale skin. My fingers trailed through the silver cord necklace. The shimmering brought light into my brown eyes.

The figure that stared back at me in the mirror was different, beautiful _and had the look of something that belonged to the world she was about to enter. Looking like this was novel to me.

"Promise me you won't leave me brooding by myself because I'll be brooding" I mumbled, peering at her through the mirror, her eyes meeting mine.

"I promise" she reassured as she crossed her heart with her index finger.

"You look exquisite" she babbled and gave me a once-over glance wearing a satisfactory look on her face.

" You should be a model. Ugh! Why wouldn't you audition? Just one time." She whined, holding out her index finger signifying one.

Abigail always had this delusion that I was capable of being a model because of my skinny frame. Being skinny doesn't mean I wanted to venture into a career path that would leave me judging myself all the time. Not everyone can be a model.

"Abigaiiiillll" her name came out like a slur, I glanced at her with pleading eyes. Before she could say a word to chip in I rushed on. "I don't have the height for it. And I would probably have a panic attack at the thought of strutting on the runway or posing in front of a camera"

It may be the way I related with her but she sometimes forgets that the person she is encouraging to be a model isn't cut out for it.

It was a back-and-forth thing with us, a never-ending cycle. Some days, it was a career change, other times, a potential love interest, and now this party. She never failed to send a challenge which has me second-guessing my potential. down my path.

"Alright, alright I hear you. Let's go touch up your face and style your hair" she said as she looped her hand into mine, pulling me towards the vanity mirror at the other side of her room.

The first time she brought me to her room, we were drenched in the rain because she had spontaneously wanted us to go for a walk in her backyard. It started pouring instantly and we were so far gone that it took what seemed like a lifetime to get into the house.

She led us straight to her room to get changed into fresh clothes.

Forgetting the reaction that forced itself out of me seemed impossible because I was in awe of her room. I stood at the center of the room, mouth agape.

Growing up in a foster home had not availed me the opportunity to come across a girl like her. Heck! Living in the hellhole with that monster hadn't, not to talk of seeing a room that looked like the one that came out of an interior design magazine.

The room was thrice the size of my studio apartment I call a cubicle. An alien scent of vanilla filled the air and the fluorescent bulbs shone brightly. A queen-sized bed placed on a thick fabric woven of wool having an oblong shape with a border design and luxury furniture with gold leaf detailing took a large portion in the middle of it. There was a floor-length mirror at the far end of the room and also a vanity mirror at the other end.

She had called me into another room. Following the sound of her voice, my eyes came in contact with a closet that reminded me of Hannah Montana's.

"Your room is a dream" I had said to her. She replied with a smile and tossed a towel to me.

"Sit" she uttered, motioning to the chair.

She ran her fingers through my hair. "Your hair is luscious and silky" she observed as she glanced at me through the vanity mirror and gave me a heartwarming smile.

"Really?" the word rushed out of my mouth like a squeak

"Yeah, is it surprising I said that?"

"It is."

What she noticed about my hair definitely took me by surprise.

The vague memory of when my mum used to style my hair played in my mind. She was the only one who materialized in my mind as the one who cared for my hair.

Paying attention to my hair was not my cup of tea. Not at the foster home and not now.

My hair had never received an ounce of care from me. I was either too tired, too hurt, or too busy. A thing or two would come up which impedes me from making efforts to take care of it.

The only time I tried treating my hair was when it was infested with dandruff because of the constant pulling of it. It itched so bad I had no choice but to seek the immediate attention of a Salonist.

"Hold on" she blurted as she proceeded to pull out a drawer, revealing different equipment of which I don't know what most of them are called.

"Close your eyes '' she muttered. The tingling sensation of my hair being parted into two like the Red Sea was comforting.

"Ouch" rolled out of my tongue pitched when the heat of an object burned my scalp.

"Sorry," she paused. She placed a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. It worked.

The heat sensations trailed down to the length of my hair which was my waist. She resorted to the process numerous times.

"Open your eyes"

I slowly opened my eyes, trying to prevent the light shining brightly in the room from blurring my eyesight.

"Tadaaaaaaa" making a squeal as she dazzlingly waves both hands.

" I love it." My dark hair was pinned straight down to my waist making me look like one of those celebrities on the red carpet.

" We are running late. I should dress up now" she babbled as she fastened her pace into her closet disappearing from my sight.

10 minutes had gone by when Britney Spears's "Baby One More Time" suddenly started blasting in my ears.

My neck turned to the direction of where the sound of the music was coming from. It was from the closet.

In less than a few seconds, Abigail's dancing frame darted into view. She was wearing a white, silk straight,below-the-knee dress. She swung her hips left and right, mouthing the lyrics of the song.

She flashes a smile "Comeone! Join me" she said as she twirled and beckoned upon me.

"I don't dance" Her smile turned into a scowl.

"You are such a killjoy. I know you don't but you should at least try," she stated as she furiously tapped the screen of her phone bringing the music to an abrupt halt.

"The driver should be here any moment now"

She glanced at her wristwatch, following her gaze on the dainty stainless steel watch, I couldn't tell what the time was.

The sound of her ringtone broke the silence. She darted her eyes towards her phone screen and tapped on it. She brought it to her ear, gesturing for me to pack up what we needed.

"We'll be down shortly" she said and immediately hung up.

"Well, that's our cue to leave"

I trailed behind her, carefully placing my legs above each other. Walking in high heels was like a different form of locomotion. Abigail had made it a necessity for me to wear a pair of four-inch heels. "Are you crazy? It's a party. Who wears flats to a party?" She had bellowed when I suggested wearing flats. It was one of those things I could not come up with a good enough excuse for her to let go. The straps of the heels hung tightly on my ankles, building up a bruise making it uncomfortable to walk.

My eyes fell on her legs. Her feet were well balanced in the heels. Even with shortened strides, she had acquired the ability to strut gracefully.

Walking in heels is a skill you learn to perfect. It's probably too late for me to learn it now.

***

The ride to the venue was quiet. I spent most of the time peering out of the heavily tinted car window at the glistening lights of the city, trying to distract myself from what was to meet me at my destination.

Abigail mentioned the name of the event center in one of our coffee sessions that we do on Saturdays.. " Villa Barone Manor" she had expressly pointed out for me to note.

Why couldn't they hold the event at their mansion? It has enough space to host 1000 people" I had thought

" why don't you just host the birthday party at your place"? I had inquired

" Daddy takes his privacy seriously and can't bear to host over a thousand people. It'll kill him" she had answered.

Abigail's father was one of those rich people who wouldn't compromise their privacy for the sake of a birthday party. A birthday party that was more of a business connection party.

In no time, the driver pulled up to the parking lot and put the car to a halt in front of the reservation sign board showcasing " Reserved For Abigail Berlette" on it.

The thought of mingling with wealthy strangers sends a fresh wave of panic through me.

It's going to be alright. It's just a party. Even if you've never been to a party, what's the worst that could happen?

Hopefully, I won't throw up or anything as soon as I enter.

My palms were starting to get sticky with sweat and my voice was a little shaky as I let out a nervous chuckle.

Abigail glanced at me and narrowed her eyes into slits.

" Are you okay?"

"Not really"

" Come here," she said, drawing me into a warm embrace, the smell of Jasmine hitting my nostrils in the process. "I'll be glued to you throughout the night"

She clasped her hand in mine and walked me inside the venue.

As we stepped into the building, the cold air that seeped through the vents sent chills down my spine making me shiver.

Villa Barone Manor exuded a whimsical ambiance. It offered a blend of European elegance and American sophistication. The decor was magnificent and the smell of freshly made cuisine fondled my nostrils.

The place was clustered with ladies with regained taste in fashion and gentlemen in tuxedos.

Taking it all in my eyes landed on the celebrant. Richard Berlette, the CEO of SimpleBuy, America's largest corporation by revenue as well as the biggest private employer. For a man celebrating his 45th birthday, he looked just as good as the eligible bachelors featured in York's Most Eligible Bachelor magazine.

He seemed to be in a meaningful conversation with the few guests gathered around him.

His gaze clashed with mine as if he sensed I was watching him. The universe stopped. Everything in it stood still. My heart raced wildly against my chest. And then, he grinned. A hush, quieter than the last sigh of a mild flame slowly burning out in frozen winter, fell over my soul. Silence inundated me.

Why is he looking at me that way? And what exactly am I feeling right now?

Hoping to escape the thought which clouded my mind. I tore my gaze away from him and turned towards where Abigail was previously standing which was beside me. It was empty.

My eyes captured her moving frame weaving through the crowd. Leaving me in the cold hands of loneliness.

Liar!

Why does she have to be so confident?

Just look at her. She is everything you are not.

" you are everything you need to be"

I jolted in surprise and swung my head towards the sound of the masculine voice.

CHAPTER 2

You know the feeling you get after you've been splashed with iced water?

That was what hit me when my eyes fell on a young-looking man with dirty blonde hair that was fastidiously combed.

A paralyzing realization that I must have said my thoughts out loud washed over me, which made my limbs heavy as if anchored to the ground.

"You know," he began "I heard she isn't very likable"

"T-T-that's not true" rushed out of my mouth in a stutter.

I cleared my throat in an attempt to hide the embarrassment building inside me.

His eyes flicker over my face. "Who is she to you?"

" my best friend?"

"Is she?" he inquired as he arched his brows making the mole underneath his eyebrow prominent.

"Yes?"

"That came out as a question. You aren't sure, are you?" his voice drops lower than usual.

Springing up that question, dug up a speculation I had buried deep in my heart. Abigail and I have indeed known each other for eight months now but I have this ill feeling that I was more invested in the friendship than she was and I took me up as a project to work on. Like a plaything.

When that thought first crossed my mind, I thought it was my insecurity playing tricks on me. I mean, for someone who has no other person to call a friend you wouldn't expect anything else but as time went by I started noting some things that may have partially proved my point.

At that time she introduced me to her co-worker as someone she happened to know. She apologized soon after but the words stuck in my mind like a magnet.

I waved it off with pretense and told her I understood.

Now, she left me by myself in a world I was not familiar with after she made a promise to be with me most of the time.

It might seem I was overthinking it but she could have at least introduced me to some of the guests before weaving off without a word.

My eyes scanned the faces of the guests and landed on her. She wore a hearty smile, partially hugging her dad, while talking to him.

Why hasn't she introduced me to her dad?

"A penny for your thoughts?" The voice of the man I was with pulled me out of my thoughts.

" oh! You know what? I don't have to answer that question" I retorted.

"Which one?"

I glared at him feeling a surge of confidence radiate through me. "You know which one."

He chuckles. "I'm Edward Brown," he said, as he stretched forth his hand ready to collect mine in a handshake.

"Marah. Marah Gale" I announced reaching out to receive the handshake.

"Marah Gale." He repeated as he tilted his head to the side. "not from around here, are you?"

"Isn't it obvious? I look out of place"

He glanced at me from head to toe. " I wouldn't say that"

I wrapped my arms around myself feeling slightly apprehensive.

"I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable"

"No it's fine" I brushed him off.

He seemed to have noticed the change in my countenance. "Champagne?" he asked as he raised a flute in his hand.

"Yes please."

Downing alcohol into my system would push these nerves away.

The waiter arrived just in perfect time holding a tray of champagne. Edward stretched his hand to pick up a flute.

"Here." He said as he handed it to me.

I gulped down the whole quantity in a rush and he looked at me like I grew two horns on my head.

The fizzy liquid left behind a lively acidic taste with a pinch of apple flavor that made me scrunch up my face in the process.

"Whoa! Slow down. You seem nervous."

"I am"

I chunked down more glasses of champagne without care that I started to feel lightweight.

Reached out to grab another glass and Edward beat me to it.

"That's enough now"

"What's enough?" I giggled

He searched my face. " Great! Now you are tipsy"

"No, I'm not"

"Yes, you are"

"No, I'm not" Immediately the words came out of my mouth. I held out my hand for stability, grabbing onto the first thing within arm's length which happened to be Edward.

"You should sit," he said as he grabbed onto me and pulled out a chair. He gently placed the seat and proceeded to take one.

"Just so you know, I'm fully aware of what I'm doing" I blurted out.

"Hmmm sure" he voiced white pursed lips

" I should get you water"

He sprung up instantly and walked towards the waiter mouthing words I couldn't decipher. The waiter left through a backdoor and brought back a bottle of water. Edward collected the bottle and started in my direction.

He opened the cap of the bottle. "Drink," he said as he settled in.

I took a sip of the water and placed the bottle on the table.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" I uttered, feeling a surge of confidence radiate through me

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. What do you do?"

"Something extremely boring."

Without any control of my emotions, I burst into laughter

"What? No."

"Trust me, being a CEO can be immensely boring.

Thinking about what I do gives me a headache" he murmured as he rubbed his temples.

"Wait a minute, why are you here talking to me?"

He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, to my little knowledge, this birthday party is another business conference."

He snorted. " that's probably true"

He moved in closer to me. " That's why I'm here trying to woo you." his voice dropped lower than usual.

A heat of desire rushed into my face.

He gave me a boyish smile. I froze on the spot as I stared at him. A heat of desire rushed into my face.

I used the opportunity to study his face. He had big, soulful eyes like George Clooney's. His bow-shaped lips are so full making him look feminine.

He is pretty.

I realized with a shock that I had been gaping at him for a few good seconds. My forehead crashed against his in an attempt to pull away.

I brought my palm to the throbbing spot on my head and winced at the sharp pain.

He chuckled.

"Funny sight. Isn't it"

"Quite likely"

He set his hand on my head and massaged the aching spot with his thumb.

Fireworks exploded in my tummy.

He brought his hand to his side. Expressions passed across his face, but I couldn't read them

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you do?"

"I make coffee."

"Interesting"

"How is that?"

"I love coffee. This is fate. We are meant to be together." He said as he clasped his hands together as if trying to make a point.

I cracked up. "Does that mean I'm fated to be with 74% of Americans who drink coffee every day?"

" They aren't here with you, are they?" He said with his

brows raised. "Which makes me the perfect candidate."

My eyes darted to the bottle of water in front of me. I saw through my peripheral vision that he was looking at me.

"Where?"

I swung my gaze towards him. "Where what?"

"Where do you make coffee?"

"Gregory's coffee."

A look of familiarity strikes his face "I know that place."

"It's a well-"

"Marah!" Abigail hollered at me as she made her way to us.

"I want to introduce you to my dad." She turned to Edward. "Edward"

"Abigail" her name scraped against his tongue like sandpaper.

"Come on" she beckoned upon me.

I got up and gave Edward an apologetic look. "I enjoyed your company. Thank you"

He gave me a faint smile. "Likewise"

She shot him a glare and sucked her teeth.

"What's that about?" I implored.

"I don't like him. What were you doing with him anyways."

"What do you mean what was I going with him? Left ditched me the second we got here and you know what I feel about places like this."

"Sorry about that bit I just had to be with daddy that very minute. I should get accustomed to the way he relates with his business partners."

"Oh"

We walked closer to where Mr Berlette seemed to be discussing with a ginger-haired lady. She nodded furiously at what he said and patted his shoulder before dashing off.

We were greeted with the sight of his grin then his eyes connected with him.

I'd never been close enough to see his face. He had the kind of face that stops you in your tracks. I stood and stared directly at his tall frame compared to my average one with a blank expression. My weight shifted from one foot to the other.

This is it. This is the moment he forbids you from being friends with his daughter.

You are not in the same class.

"Marah, is it?" his baritone voice drew me out of my thoughts.

That's what he sounds like?

His voice was deep, like a bass drum. Gruff enough to suggest a degree of toughness which gave away an impression of his age.

Aged like fine wine. The little voice in my head spoke up.

I realized I had never heard him speak before. Although I've been to their place countless times. We never crossed paths. Anytime I asked Abigail to introduce me to her dad. She always came up with an excuse as to why she couldn't. It's either "Daddy is too busy" or "Daddy is in his study right now"

"Yes," my voice hitched.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said as he reached out for a handshake.

"Seconded" I uttered as I returned the handshake with my sweaty palm.

His clasps lingered on for a while before he broke free.

"I've heard a lot about you. Thank you for keeping my daughter in touch with reality."

I tilted my head to the side. " well, err...sure"

Abigail smacked him in the arm. "Why would you say that?" She said in a whiny voice.

"I spoiled you a little too much," he paused as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "I still do."

A man who seemed to be wearing pants too small for his size beckoned upon Mr Berlette to propose a toast.

"I've got to go." He said quickly and proceeded to peck her on the head. He turned to me and gleamed at me. I smiled.

The toast was short and brief but nothing less heartwarming. Abigail sniffled beside me. I linked her hand to mine to comfort her.

She is being her dramatic self again

We raised our glasses, I clinked my glass against Abigail's and took a sip.

"Nice to see you didn't rush this one in"

I turned at the sound of the familiar voice which belonged to Edward." I wouldn't want to embarrass myself the second time"

"Nobody would pay attention to that "

"You did," I argued.

"I was thinking, maybe, you would like to grace me with your presence at Gregory's tomorrow?"

I blinked at him.

"Forget I asked that. That was rude of me. Trying to intrude on your private life. He rambled while avoiding my gaze.

"Edward"

"Hrm? " he darted his eyes to me.

" you can come by anytime and yes, I would like to grace you with my presence"

He cackled. " I feel full of the joys of spring hearing you say that to me"

I heard Abigail suck her teeth behind me and mumbled words I couldn't decipher.

"See you then," he said as he waved.

I waved back. I glanced at my best friend.

"What?" She inquired.

"Nothing."

She took a quick look at her wristwatch. "It's late. We should get going."

***

"Good morning, Greg." I chirped. Gregory, my employer, is a 60-year-old widower. He owned the coffee shop in 4th Avenue, New York, where I got my bread and butter. I worked from 8 a.m. till 8 p.m. Monday to Friday making coffee.

"Good morning, Marah. Did you have a great weekend?" He smiled adoringly at me.

"Yes, I did." I grinned like a Cheshire Cat and fixed my rumbled floral vintage dress. It was my favorite dress and I loved wearing it often. I bought it with my hard-earned money on my 18th birthday.

It was already eight o'clock, time for the coffee shop to open. I dashed into the kitchen to prepare for the day.

I learned how to prepare coffee from Grace, the barista at my old workplace. For almost a year that I worked there, she taught me how to do coffee artwork and techniques for preparing good coffee. I acquired the knowledge of the barista's complete guide to coffee and embraced it wholeheartedly.

"Hey, Marah. There is a man here to see you." Betty, one of the employees yelled behind me, that I almost dropped the mug was holding.

"A man?"

Could it be Edward? It has to be. He did say he would like me to grace him with my presence.

A creeping smile found its way to my face at the thought of him.

I went out of the kitchen and scanned the faces of the customers. I didn't see the familiar feminine masculine face.

I scrunched up my eyebrows.

Did she make a mistake?

As I was about to head back to the kitchen, my eyes caught a wave that came from the far corner of the shop.

My stomach twisted in knots at the sight of the man before me.

CHAPTER 3

My feet moved on their own accord to where Richard was seated. He was wearing a sharp black suit that made him look mysterious and younger than his age.

What's he doing here?

Don't be silly Marah.

This is a coffee shop. He came to get coffee.

"Mr Berlette. It's quite a surprise seeing you here." I paused. " Well, I mean it's not surprising that you are in a coffee shop obviously. It's just that you are here. At Gregory's.I rambled with a nervous chuckle.

"Pardon me for taking you by surprise," he said as he gave me an apologetic look.

"It's alright. Would you like me to get you anything?"

"A cup of espresso please."

"I'll be right back."

I charged to the kitchen to brew the coffee. It took me five minutes to do that. I carefully placed the mug on the table.

"Thank you. Please sit." He motioned to the chair facing him.

I positioned myself on the chair, stiff as a board. His eyes followed every move I made. I ran my sweaty palms on my dress and gulped in my saliva.

"What I want to talk to you about would probably take you off guard but it's nothing to worry about. I've seen you quite some times with my daughter and concluded that you are the perfect candidate for what I'm about to propose."

I gave him a quizzical look. "Mr Berlette_"

"Call me Richard" he chipped in.

The thought of calling him by his first name made me shudder. "A perfect candidate for a proposal? What could I offer in your world to make you think I'm a perfect candidate for a man like you? There is no link whatsoever." I retorted.

"You don't have to downplay yourself. I know what I see in you and that's all the convincing I need. I want you to be my wife."

I unintentionally choked on my saliva which made me cough furiously as I sat there and gaped at him wide-eyed.

Pretending to not hear him the first time. " Excuse me?"

"I want you to be my wife." He said again as he took a sip from his coffee and stared at me like he just asked me what my favorite food was instead of a marriage proposal.

I brought my hands to my mouth and guffawed loudly.

This is a joke. He is definitely kidding.

A look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Is this something to laugh about?"

"Yes. Because you are joking. Right? Did Abigail put you up to this?" I mentioned as I swayed my neck left and right in hopes of catching a glimpse of my best friend laughing at the corner.

His face showed no hint of humor. "Are you being serious? I'm your daughter's friend. Best-friend." I half yelled making sure I emphasized the word 'best friend'.

"Look, I'm not asking you to be my wife forever. It's only going to be a year. Nothing more, nothing less."

"This isn't right. You are my best friend's dad."

"Can you stop saying that?"

"But you are."

"Marah, you are a grown woman and I believe you can make decisions yourself without letting external factors dissuade you. It's a contract marriage," he uttered in a low voice. "And I require your assistance. If you haven't noticed I'm probably the oldest bachelor that makes it to York's Most Eligible Bachelor magazine.

He gave a sardonic look. "That list infuriates me."

He was right about being the oldest on the list of eligible bachelors. Some of his counterparts hadn't made it to that list. That was just how good-looking he was. I'd always wondered why he never got married.

There had been a moment when I wanted to ask Abigail about her mother but thought against it. She never talked about her and I didn't want to pry.

Random women throw themselves at him without a care in the world dreaming to go by his last name.

Which made me more suspicious of the reason why he thought I was the perfect candidate in the first place.

That's right. What about those other women? Huh, Richard.

Why does it have to be me?

An idea of why he proposed marriage to me never crossed my mind and I didn't want to know either.

But what I was sure of is that I would never accept such a proposal from him.

No! This wasn't about his age. At twenty-five years of age, I didn't think I had a problem getting with an older guy. It's just that it was too weird a thought to get with my best friend's father. Even if it was based on pretense.

"I'm sorry but I can't do what you are asking of me," I responded. My face held no ounce of sympathy.

"You don't have to give me an answer right away. Take your time."

"I don't think my answer will ever change," I said deadpan.

"You shouldn't be so sure about that." He said with a sinister smile plastered on his face.

"But I am sure."

"Just think about_" he was cut short by my sudden movement. "Where are you going?"

"To work. It's the busiest time of the day and customers are coming in. I have to make coffee."

I didn't want him to say anything else before I took off on my heels. The moment I entered the kitchen, I rested my weight on the wall for support. My feet were too wobbly to hold me still.

What just happened? Richard Barlette wants me to be his wife? Is he sick?

After I recollected myself, I went out of the kitchen. My eyes fell on Richard's frame but this time he wasn't alone.

I looked at the tall, black-clad figure of the man with Richard. He had a younger face than that of Richards.

He was holding a file that had the word "confidential" imprinted on it.

Probably his secretary.

I didn't register that my eyes were still on Richard until his head turned and his eyes captured mine. My eyes widened and I immediately pretended to be looking at the customers beside their table.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Richard throw his head back stifling a laugh. He dropped a dollar bill and signaled for the man with him to follow him. They left the coffee chop soon after.

I walked up to the table he earlier occupied and screeched at the sight of the mint hundred dollar bill carefully placed underneath the espresso cup.

A hundred dollar bill! He left too much tip for the coffee.

Later that morning, I stationed myself in the kitchen. Most of our early customers already left and it was an opportunity to clean up the dishes. I've always found washing dishes calming. For as long as I can remember, even during the most painful span of my life, the tactile experience of handling soapy water and dishes creates a serene and therapeutic environment for me.

But the conversation I had with Richard kept replaying in my mind making my insides hot. I run my hands through my hair and let out a distressed sigh.

The creak of the kitchen door made me jump backwards. Betty's round shaped face peered behind the door. "There's someone here to see you."

My eyes narrowed "Who is it this time?

"I don't know." She shrugged. "This feels like deja vu." She said as she slammed the door on my face.

I grabbed a kitchen towel mounted at the back of a cabinet door and used it to dry my hands and I stepped out of the kitchen expecting to see Richard again.

I was welcomed with Edward's twinkling eyes. His smile was like a sudden beam of sunlight illuminating the darkest corners of the room. My heart leaped for joy at the sight of him.

"Edward!" I beamed at him.

"Marah!" he hollered, imitating my enthusiasm.

"I didn't think you would come today."

"I couldn't wait. I should have been here earlier but I was caught up with something at work." his eyes scoured the shop "Where should we sit?"

"Over there," I said as I motioned to an empty table at the corner of the shop. "What would you like me to make you?"

"Umm, a cappuccino. Thank you," he said as he sat.

"Just give me a moment. I'll be back shortly."

I returned with a cup of steaming coffee and served it to him.

"Here you go."

"Hmm. Love the artwork."

"Thank you."

He took a sip of the coffee and his eyes slightly widened. "This is good. This is really good."

I grinned so much that my cheeks began to hurt. "Thank you."

"This is like the best coffee ever," he said as he took another sip.

I fake clutched my chest. "Oh, you flatter me."

"Seeing you makes me feel much better."

I narrowed my eyes. "How so?"

"You know. Just because," he muttered in a voice lower than usual.

"Is something wrong?" I uttered as I leaned forward to study his expression.

I've only known Edward for less than a day but I already care for him as a friend even if he doesn't know it yet. It might seem pathetic that I have no criteria for choosing a friend. The truth is, ever since I was a kid I never had anyone to call a friend. Believe it or not, not that the foster home either.

There has been someone I considered a friend but apparently wasn't. So right now at my age, I can only count my friends with two fingers.

He scrunched his nose as he placed the cup on the table. "Nothing too serious. It's just work. It can be overwhelming sometimes."

"I have been meaning to ask. Which company do you work for? I paused. "Or own?"

"I thought my last name would ring a bell. I guess I'm not as famous as I thought." he joked. A faint smile danced on his lips.

I pressed a finger on my chest playfully. "I'm just the ignorant one."

"Brown ventures?" He paused as if waiting for a reply. "The investment company that establishes startups? Nothing comes to mind?"

"I'm sorry." I stifled a laugh. "Nothing comes to mind."

"Tsk tsk tsk. I don't know whether to be happy or sad. But I think more of the former.

He rubbed the nape of his neck. His eyes burned dryly from sleeplessness.

"Lately, I've been engrossed in making strategic plans and organizational setup for the new start-up company in New Zealand. The problem is the majority of the board of directors is hesitating to bid on it. They are scared of losing investments. It's taking a toll on me. Sorry, I'm boring you with this work talk."

"No. It's fine." I assured him.

He forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. I felt sorry for him and wished I could do anything to make him feel better.

Quit dreaming. You have no influence whatsoever to help him.

I groaned inwardly not wanting Edward to notice my displeasure.

"What about your dad?"

The question seemed to have thrown him off. His mouth downturned.

" I haven't heard that question for five years now."

I put my hands over my mouth as cognizance hit me.

"Edward, I am so sorry. I didn't know_"

"You couldn't have. It was all over the news though." He forced a smile.

"Which makes it worse. If only I've been current. I really should have." I rambled on.

"How did it happen?"

"Car crash. Head on collision." He mumbled, staring into space.

I lost my parents when I was just ten years old and my mind couldn't exactly process what happened. I didn't feel a sense of loss as much as a teenager or adult would feel losing a loved one. All I knew was the comforts of their hugs and smiles. I didn't know their mind, likes and dislikes and theories about life, all the things impossible for a child to comprehend.

Presently, I didn't perceive the loss of intricate humans who I could have conversations and spend time with.

I grieved humans I could have known and felt cheated out of the opportunity of truly knowing them.

The grieve I felt for my parents is different from that of Edwards towards his dad. He knew his dad, he grew up watching his dad and at such a very knowing age he lost his dad. That makes it harder for him.

I bowed my head trying to avoid eye contact. The embarrassment I felt wouldn't let me look at him. I felt his gaze upon me.

" Marah."

"Y-yeah."

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"