Page 23 of How To Not Need You

In a moment of bravery, I cross the room with my hands in my jacket pockets, and stop beside the table. “Hey.”

Liv looks up at me, eyebrows arching slightly. “Hey.”

Harper glances between us and then out the window, as though she can pretend not to be there by simply looking the other way. I know what’s supposed to happen. I’m supposed to say something witty, or confident, or at the very least coherent.

What actually comes out is: “You do your work here every day?”

Liv’s mouth twitches. “Most days. They have coffee and reliable Wi-Fi. What more could a girl want?”

I nod, awkward. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

The silence stretches. Somewhere near the register, someone drops a metal spoon and the clatter fills the void.

I try again. “I was wondering if maybe you’d…”

Luca appears at my shoulder without warning. Firefighter instincts kick in and I almost jump out of my skin. His hands come together beneath his chin, a grin spreading across his face.

"Excellent," he says in the sort of cartoon villain voice that makes me immediately suspicious.

I close my eyes and pray for mercy. “Please don’t.”

Harper takes one look at Luca approaching, stands, and reaches for her child, moving away quicker that I would have expected that pram to be capable of. He ignores me and pulls out the now empty chair across from Liv .

What is with these people? Do they have no boundaries at all? “Sit.”

Liv looks at him, then at me, takes in the faint panic that must show all over my face and sighs.

“Well,” she says, picking up her coffee. “Seems rude to make you stand after all that.”

So, I sit. Slightly clumsily, but I manage to keep my hands from shaking as I rest them on the table.

Luca beams, satisfied, and retreats to the espresso machine, where he high-fives the barista with unseemly joy.

Harper, sensing the all-clear, moves from where she stood up and wheels the pram away, murmuring something about “baby nap time” and “leaving the grown-ups to it.” I don’t know if it’s a kindness or a threat. Maybe both.

Now it’s just the two of us.

Liv looks at me. There’s a faint line between her brows, like she’s deciding whether to say something sarcastic or let me dig my own grave first.

“So,” she says, finally. “Did you lose a bet, or is this your own idea?”

I laugh, and it’s so unexpected that I almost choke on it. “Little bit of both, honestly.”

She grins, relaxes just enough to uncross her arms. “At least you’re honest.”

“Yeah, well. It’s all I’ve got.”

She sips her coffee. “You’ve also got a five-year-old who thinks I’m a fairy princess.”

The heat rises to my ears. “She’s got a strong imagination.”

“She said I smell like flowers.”

“She’s not wrong.” I realise too late that I just called Liv “floral” to her face, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Are you always this bad at flirting?” she asks, eyes glinting with amusement.

I lean back in my chair and admit defeat. “It’s not exactly one of my strengths.”