The Pleasantly Unpleasant Cafe on Mount Pleasant

Chapter 7

It was a little before 7am when I got to the shop and the silence was welcoming. Cakes and other desserts slept in boxes keeping their freshness while bigger cakes were kept under the clear domes and the coffee machine didn't make any scary noises. I was all by myself.

As I turned the lights on in every room the ambient glows spread over the café, even the fairy lights above the mirror on the fireplace twinkled letting the delivery men know it was time to give us our daily orders.

But before I can deal with any of that, I need a coffee and no, not one of those fancy lattés. It's not that I don't like them, I have them at least twice a day, I just don't know how to work the stupid coffee machine. So, thank god for Nescafe.

After adding two brown sugar cubes to my drink and stirring the contents together my mind decides to get sleepy and I realise just like every other day, I really can't be assed working.

Rapping at the door makes me almost drop my coffee in fright, then I remember the bloody milkman.

I run to the door to let him in, the massive door not staying open for anyone unless I hold it. From the back he isn't too bad looking, his hair is dark brown with a few little silvers peeking through and a beard to match but his face is still youthful, he's wearing a blue shirt with two white stripes going across the middle, illuminating in the dark with navy blue work pants showing off his shapely bod. In his forties, married, two beautiful little baby girls and I can't help being jealous as hell.

"Morning!" He announces with a cheery grin holding a big box of butter in one arm and a plastic wrap with six milks in the other. If I did that, the plastic wrap would tear up and the milk would be everywhere, spraying the place with it's white liquid. I should know, it's happened before. A milk massacre.

"Good morning, how are you doing?"

"Good, yourself?" He asks and I immediately think about Dylan cheating on me.

"Fine, fine, all good, nothing to report." I say this and my vocals go higher and higher with each lie, sounding more and more like a chew toy a dogs trying to tear apart.

"You know what they say when your voice goes higher?" Someone else I didn't see come in, chimes in behind the milkman.

"Hmm?" The milkman turns and if my face could hit the floor, it probably would have.

Dylan?

Oh. My. God. What the fuck is he doing here!?

"Err..." I can't speak, he's just standing there, leaning against the wall, staring at me with his hair shining gold, his perfect teeth whiter than usual but then I see him fucking my cousin in my mind and he turns into shit. The milkman turns back to me and gives me a look, the kind that says what's happening?

"Ok, here you go." I smile and shake my head, hoping the milkman can understand I hate this person and can he drag that thing out with him but he doesn't.

"What are you doing here?" I scowl at Dylan, hoping it will burn through his face.

"I came to see you."

"Why?"

"You haven't been answering my texts." He says watching me from a distance.

"Well, after you fucked my cousin I didn't think there was any need." I busy myself, cleaning whatever I can find and make another coffee for myself.

"I deserve that."

"No, you deserve worse."

He pushes himself off the wall and edges closer, "what do you want me to say? Yes, I slept with Annie but I didn't do it to hurt you."