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girl named Nancy. She’s learning, but I’m too frustrated to be a very good mentor, manager, or leader to her right now. Hell, I can barely believe I’m keeping myself together.

“Hey! Where the hell is my coffee?” someone yells, and I look up to see the same lady from before. Great. Why’s she even coming back if she always seems to have a problem?

“Cassie, can you please?” I order, pointing in the customer’s direction. If I have to deal with her, I’m going to have to make sure the sharp knives are as far from me as humanly possible.

“On it, boss,” Cassie says, and I’m somewhat glad. She’s improving. Unfortunately for her, though, the bitch seems to be in a particularly foul mood.

“I just want my fucking coffee, not more excuses.”

That’s enough. I look up from the latte that I’m mixing and step over to the customer, patting Cassie on the shoulder. “Go finish that. Let me handle this, Cass.”

“Sure, boss.”

Cassie leaves, and I stare at the customer, who’s wearing the same faux fur trimming from last time. “Look, I told you last time that we don’t tolerate that sort of behavior here. Please stop with the swearing or you can leave.”

Sticking her nose in the air, she sniffs at me, not backing down. “This is three weeks in a row I’ve had a problem here. Last week, they couldn't even get my order right after writing it on the damn cup. Besides, I know who runs this place, and I’m tired of your bullshit. They serve better coffee on the other side of town.”

“You said that last time too,” I half growl, just holding onto my temper. “If you’re so dissatisfied with the service here, please give the owner a call.”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, you can’t say shit because you know you’re horrible.”

“Listen. Please leave now. If you don’t, I’m going to have to call security,” I say as calmly as I can, barely keeping my thoughts about her fake fur and bitchy attitude to myself.

“Whatever, you guys fucking suck!” she yells loudly, grabbing her Louis Vuitton knockoff purse and storming out the door. “Bitch!”

I let out a sigh. I never in my life thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of working here. I know it’s not just because of the customers. It’s because . . .

I hate to admit it, but I hurt. Every morning, I wake up and my body aches, my arms are empty, and my eyes burn from crying in my sleep. I haven’t been exercising, although I’ve still lost weight because I’m barely eating.

I keep telling myself to not think about him. Whenever Brianna tries to tell me anything about him, I tell her to shut up. She’s pretty much given up on the whole thing, which just makes it hurt more.

I feel a buzz at my side, and I step into the back, checking my phone. I’ve got a text message . . . Roxy.

Mindy-girl, I just had a feeling that you needed a hug from home. I hope you’re feeling better today. I know you left feeling like shit, and I know I got on your case again. I’m sorry. You’re my sister. I love you. Gimme a call?

A sad smile touches my lips. Last Wednesday, after I left the mansion and came home, she called me. There were a few tense words in there, but the bond we have is maybe the strongest thing in the world, and soon, we were telling each other how sorry we were as we cried over the phone. Roxy admitted that she’d been pressuring me too and apologized, saying that she’d get over it and that she was coming out to visit me as soon as she got free time away from her singing gigs. She said she wanted to see if there are more Olivers out here. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Oliver’s one of a kind and that I doubt even I’m going to find him again.

“What’s happening?”

I look toward the employee entrance, sticking my phone back in my apron pocket as I see Brianna with a tired but still awake Rafe on her hip. Seeing him brightens me a little, but he can't push it all away.

“Nothing much, just slaving away as usual. Hey, thanks for covering a few shifts when I was gone. How’s my little Rafey doing?”

“Firsty,” Rafe says, perking up a little as I tickle his ribs. I walk with them back out into the cafe area and start mixing Rafe an iced chocolate milk while Bri checks out the menu.

Brianna looks over the menu. “So why don’t I see you serving the unicorn frappe yet?”

I laugh. I know she’s just joking. “Do I look like a freakin’ leprechaun? Besides, that’s the guys across town.”

Brianna bursts into laughter, and I’m grateful I caught my tongue just in time as Rafe starts chanting. “Lep-a-chan! Lep-a-chan!”

“Aye, top o’ the mornin’ to you,” I reply in the fakest accent ever, handing Rafe his chocolate milk while Bri chuckles. “What? I’m not Irish enough?”

Bri shakes her head. “You’re a lot of things, but no. Thank you, though. That was good. First joke I’ve heard you crack in a week.”

I shrug, rinsing the milk blender while Rafe finds a stool and Bri hangs out where we can talk. She knows everything, and I need someone to help me process all that happened. Being my best friend, she’s been positive. She’s even gone so far as to suggest there’s still a chance for us.

Of course, she’s out of her mind. I haven’t seen the man in two weeks. If he wanted to get in contact with me, he could’ve. Despite telling him to go away, I started missing him even as he walked out the door, and that hasn’t let up at all. But I get it. If I were in his shoes, the way I treated him at the end there, I’d swear off coffee forever and switch

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