It’s a cute place with cozy seating, located at the corner of a quaint street on the far end of town. Even the pastel blue sign that reads Pick Me Ups in a flowing script is adorable. It doesn’t fit the man I’m meeting or the relationship we have. Coffee is coffee, though, and this is far more casual than the dinner date he preferred and I turned down.

The second I spot Cody’s car, I know I should quicken my pace to get to him. I already told him I was running late, and I hate to keep him waiting. My limbs betrays me, though, and the thumping in my chest refuses to support my body’s need to move.

It’s almost like this moment is the same as the other night. I’m participating, but not really here. There’s space between and I’m merely observing.

The flesh and bones of my body are present and yet I’m only the shadow. Oh how easy it would be, if one could slink away and hide from reality that easily. But as I approach the black glass front doors and shake out the umbrella on the thick black welcome mat out front, I know all too well that I did what I did.

I just don’t know what Cody’s done, what he knows, or what I’m willing to tell him.

There’s more than what he’s willing to tell. Between coffee and small talk about scandal and murderers threatening me, I have to decide where Cody fits into all of this with far too limited information.

The door swings open and warmth hits my face while the delectable scent of coffee and citrus pastries swarms my lungs.

Black and white checkered floors, subway tiles and a long coffee bar with black leather stools give the place charm and ’50s flair.

I didn’t even want to see his handsome face. I didn’t want those steely blue eyes to see right through me, but in this moment, when Cody’s gaze locks onto mine from a booth in the back corner, I feel weak. Drawn to him and eager to tell him everything. Literally, I’m desperate to tell him everything.

To expose every little detail. The desire passes as quickly as it came.

“Would you like me to take that for you?” a waitress with coral pink lipstick asks and smiles at me. As I hand over the umbrella and my coat, my pulse quickens. Cody’s gaze is still on me, but I can’t look back at him.

I’m second-guessing everything. Every move. Every piece of the puzzle. With a heavy exhale I take the seat across from Cody and offer him a simper.

“Still in one piece,” he comments and with it I broaden my smile, which makes him smile in return. It’s always struck me as such a charming smile. “You had me worried,” he says.

Although I part my lips as if I have an easy response to give him, which I don’t, I’m saved by the waitress. The same one who took my coat in her poofy dress with puffed sleeves and a black apron tied at her waist.