"Let's just say there was no going back to being just co-workers after we got out. Sooooo romantic."
I shake my head at my mom.
"How is that romantic Mom, he held you prisoner in a closet and then lied about how you both were in there?"
"Well, I thought it was romantic. I am sure you will one day look back on how you and your future husband meet as the most romantic time of your life."
"No you won't," Grandma pipes into the conversation.
Grandma, ever the realist.
"Sweets, your grandpa picked me up at a bar and we went home and had a one night stand. The most unromantic meeting a couple can have. I happened to get pregnant from that night and your Uncle Jackson was born nine months later. Needless to say it was a shotgun wedding. Very little romance for us, but we did grow to love each other. I mean, sure, we humped like rabbits because your granddad was hot, but we didn't fall in love until many years later. So, you never know."
Both my mom and I have plugged our ears as we rock ourselves in comfort. Leave it to my grandma to ruin a moment.
Chapter 5
Morgana's Problem: Her Date
There is a light drizzle with thirty mile per hour winds on Sunday. It prevents me from using my umbrella, though I bring it anyway. I resemble a human banana—yellow rain hat with matching coat and boots.
I enter the warm, dry coffee shop, Beans, Beans, & more Beans, promptly at ten and look around. The aroma of coffee and chocolate is the first to assault my senses. My eyes dart over the large barrels of coffee beans next to the gray slate counter. Quickly I remove the offending yellow and run my fingers through my hair to give the appearance of some maintenance. Thankfully I wore waterproof mascara today.
Stepping further into the shop I look at the one person in line, a man with no umbrella. I walk up behind him and peer around the room. The walls are covered with odd knick-knacks of figurines holding coffee cups and various children’s art work framed in sleek metal and white frames. Most of the black tables and dark booths are taken by couples. There is a lone man who is about sixty sitting in an overstuffed leather chair staring at me with a big grin. Oh God is that him? He lied! He's not thirty-four!
My eyes dart around him and see an umbrella but it's one of those big black golf umbrellas. Maybe he's planning on using it to knock me unconscious or kill me. Those things can be weapons. I know someone accidentally stabbed me in the boob with one once in college. I had to get three stitches.
I look around the room again in desperation and see a hand cradling a blue plaid umbrella. It's a man's hand but he is in a booth with his back to me, so I can't make him out. Oh thank God it's not the sixty year old. Some people may be into the older guy thing, but not me.
My gaze falls back to the older man and notice he is now leering at a group of women at a table near him. Perv!
After a few moments I'm next and recite my order to the bored barista as he stands in front of a wall of coffee beans encased in glass. When I get the warm latte I take a deep breath and casually walk across the light bamboo flooring to the booth that holds the plaid umbrella. As I turn to face him I stop dead and drop my coffee.
"Mr. Payne?"
His eyes look over me in confusion until he sees the red umbrella in my hand and his eyes go wide.
"Morgan...Morgana?"
Oh SHIT!!!
We just stare at each other for a while. I finally move to sit in the booth when one of the baristas comes over with a mop to clean up the spilled coffee.
"So you're Ric, huh?" I glare at him wondering if he knew it was me all along. That must be why he didn't want pictures. God, I am such an idiot! Trying to be romantic my ass! I don't think I could be angrier at this moment!
"Obviously Morgan! Did you know who I was? Is that why you were pressuring me for a picture, so you could do God knows what to my career?"
"What? No! You are the one who knew who I was; don't turn it around on me. You have a sick problem, playing games with me like this. And to think, I almost let you sex-chat me" I huff at him, appalled.
He raises his eyebrow at me. Yeah, the sex-chat would not have been the worst we have done together, but I’m still mad. I try to get out of the booth, my rain gear getting hooked on the table. I yank until I hear a rip. Mr. Payne tries to get up to help me but I push him away.
"Don't you even think about it. Haven’t you already done enough?"
"Morgana, I am just trying to help you with your coat."
I manage to get my jacket free and inspect it, noticing a small tear on the back, near the bottom hem. With much anger and clumsiness I shrug on the raincoat and hat to make my way to the exit. I feel a hand on my arm tugging me back.
"Morgana, let's at least talk about this."