Page 39 of How To Not Need You
Elsie smiles into her coffee. "Milo packed three toy dinosaurs, two torches and enough marshmallows to feed a scout jamboree."
"And Maisie?"
"Told Daniel she wasn't sleeping on the ground because she's 'not an animal.'"
Harper snorts into her coffee. "A girl after my own heart."
"I give it until Saturday afternoon before someone calls me."
"You think they'll last that long?" I ask.
Elsie seems to think it over before answering. "No."
We all start to laugh as the bell jingles again. Natalie steps inside balancing a large paper bag that immediately fills the café with the warm scent of browned butter and cardamom.
“I brought pastries.”
“You beautiful woman,” Luca says.
Natalie laughs. “I figured plotting should happen with adequate sugar.”
Freya arrives moments later, immediately stealing one before the bag even reaches the table. “I regret nothing.”
The door jingles again. This time, everyone looks up.
“Please tell me you’re still serving coffee.”
The woman standing in the doorway looks like she’s been through something. Her jeans are covered in what is unmistakably dog fur. Her hair has escaped whatever she’d attempted to do with it this morning, and there’s a smudge of something on her left cheek that might be mud or might be something worse. Through the front window, I can see three dogs sitting patiently outside, clipped to the hitching rail beside the café’s water bowls, watching the door with anticipation.
Luca grins. “Evening, Wren. Bad day?”
She drops into the nearest empty chair with an exhausted sigh. “The worst. Popcorn insulted a bloke who was about to adopt old Ringo.”
Silence. Harper frowns. “I’m sorry, what?”
“My rescue macaw.” Wren drags a hand through her hair, which only makes the escaped strands worse. “He called the poor man an idiot, wolf-whistled at him, then told him to ‘put that down.’ The bloke decided he wasn’t adopting a dog that had been around that kind of influence.”
I stare at her in confusion and can’t help the words spilling out. “What the fuck?”
Luca dissolves into laughter. He laughs so hard he has to brace himself against the table, shoulders shaking, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his mug. The rest of us sit in varying states of confusion until Luca manages to catch his breath.
“Wren owns the local animal rescue, Seabrook Second Chances.”
“Okay, that explains absolutely everything.” I say, only half sarcastically.
The collective understanding ripples around the table.
Luca slides a fresh coffee across to Wren without asking. “Triple flat white?”
“You know me too well.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Just like that, Wren is in. Apparently all it takes to join the Rewrite Club is coffee, baked goods and a badly behaved bird.
Wren relaxes. By the time everyone has a pastry and a coffee and a place at the table, Wren is already asking Harper about Grace’s sleep schedule with the easy familiarity of someone who has been absorbing personal details about near-strangers for years.
The overhead lights are dimmed. The espresso machine is finally quiet. Mismatched mugs cover the table, Natalie’s pastry bag is already half empty, and three rescue dogs are staring through the window like they've been excluded from an important business meeting.
