And that’s when it occurs to me that he’s not searching. He knows where to go. He knows what he will find when he gets there. He’s not looking. He’s bracing.
He starts toward my table again and then stops abruptly. I can’t tell whether he’s annoyed, upset, or pleasantly surprised to discover my obvious intrusion into his life. He’s dressed similarly to yesterday, but different enough that I realize this casual style may be new to him, but it’s now permanent. As I study him with the same intensity he studies me, I also notice he’s younger than I first thought. He’s been aged, but not by time. If I had to guess, I’d say mid to late twenties. I’m terrible at guessing, though, so I decide not to.
“You’re back,” he says quietly.
I still can’t interpret his reaction.
“So are you.”
I motion toward the chair. “This might be my table, but you can have the chair.”
“Thank you.”
Oddly enough, he doesn’t even look at it today. In fact, he sits at the neighboring table as though he’s completely abandoned his mission. I’m disappointed, and again, startled by my strange reaction. I suck in my breath and grip my teacup.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, before it actually occurs to me that’s weirder than anything he’s ever done. I kick myself.
He glances at me, but doesn’t seem nearly as surprised by my question as I am. Then I realize it’s only because he’s distracted. He doesn’t care about my question.
“Sure,” he mutters. I suspect it’s more out of politeness than a desire to allow me access to his life, and I quickly regret my impulsive request. He doesn’t really want me here, that much is obvious, but neither can I back out now in any reasonable way. At this point, I’m committed to picking up my saucer and sliding across the narrow aisle to his table.
“I’m Callie, by the way.”
“Luke.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” I cringe.
Nice work, Callie.
There’s that brief smile again, and my embarrassing cliché is momentarily forgiven.
“No, I’m not. Are you the law in these here parts?” he teases back, and now I’m officially hooked.
“Sorry. I know. That was probably the worst thing I could have said.”
“I can think of worse.”
“Do you come here often?”
This time the slight smile becomes a full-on grin.
“As often as you, apparently,” he responds.
“You must think I’m stalking you.”
“Are you?”
“A little.” Before I can control it, my gaze shoots to the chair, and his smile fades.
I wish I could take it back. I wish I’d been strong enough to stop it, but we both know that’s why we’re here. We both know we’re connected for no other reason.
Neither of us says a word. I have no way of knowing if his mind is in the same tailspin as mine, but I sense it probably is. I’m sure his head goes to places most of us could never understand.
The server approaches and seems surprised to find us together.
“Can I get you something?” he asks Luke. I don’t miss his quick glance in my direction, but he doesn’t let it linger long enough to force me to respond.
“Toast, please,” Luke answers.
“White, wheat, or rye?”
“Rye.”
“You got it. What about you? Still fine with just tea?”
I glance at Luke. I am, but a cup of tea isn’t long enough. “Actually, I’ll take an order of pancakes. Small stack.”
“Hash browns or fruit cup?”
“Fruit.”
“Bacon?”
“No thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
He shuffles off to fulfill our orders, and I’m suddenly nervous at the thought of being alone again with Luke. I’m nervous because he’s enigmatic, and beautiful, and sad, and debatably weird. Although clearly not as weird as I am I’ve learned.
“No bacon?” he asks.
I’m relieved he’s forgiven me for my earlier chair blunder.
“I wanted you to think I’m healthy.”
“You care what I think?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not sure yet. Just covering my bases in case it turns out that I do.”
I’m rewarded with another smile. “Fair enough. I don’t want to know how I rate with my rye toast.”
I shrug. “I’m reserving judgment until I see what you put on it.”
This time he actually laughs, and now I’m sure he was someone else once. He would have occupied this whole restaurant wing with his fancy suits and perfect hair, surrounded by a crowd of admiring acquaintances. This is a man who wasn’t alone until recently. His magnetic laugh wouldn’t have allowed him to be alone. He must not laugh anymore.
“That’s a lot of pressure for a condiment,” he observes.
“There has to be a marketing campaign in there somewhere.”
“Maybe, but what about you? Pancakes come with many possibilities as well.”
“True. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
He nods, and I fight with my brain to keep the conversation flowing. I know if it stops, he will get lost in himself again and retreat to that place I can’t go. I don’t know why it’s so important to me that I prevent that from happening, but when I see his eyes move to the right, a small ember of panic begins to ignite. I’m losing.
“Do you live in the city?” I ask, drawing him back to earth.
He seems to have to shake something before he can respond. “No. Well, not really.”
“Just visiting?”
“Kind of. What about you?”
“Yes, I do, but I’ve only been here a few months.”
He nods. He’s being polite again. Polite does nothing to help me.
I need to bring him back to the café, this table. “You know, Stan’s been watching you like a hawk.”
“Stan?”
I motion to the table by the door with my eyes.
“Ah, yes. He’s the one who needs a jacket.”
“I think he’s amazed you actually stayed this time.”
“He’s not the only one.”
Surprised, I go to meet his gaze but he’s not looking at me. That wasn’t
