Chapter 94

Chapter 94
Neema stood near the long counter of her new café. She ran her palms lightly over the cool surface as she looked around the space that was almost ready to be hers. The smell of fresh paint still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint hint of sawdust from the new tables and newly replaced front window. Now a crisp, clear pane stood there, catching the morning sunlight in a perfect gleam as though the horror of the other day had never happened.

Dust sheets lay neatly folded in a corner, the chairs and display counters finally arranged as well as the light fixtures. The place finally looked like a dream she could touch.

Samantha stood beside her, hands on her hips, admiring everything with her usual loud confidence. “Chicka, this is sexy,” she declared, sweeping her arm around dramatically. “Like, face-beat, heels-on, body-oiled-up sexy.”

A burst of laughter caught Neema off guard. She shook her head. “Only you would describe a café like that.”

“And only you would make a café look like this,” Samantha countered, bumping her shoulder affectionately. “Seriously, this is amazing. I’m almost green with jealousy. I should find myself a rich, handsome man to open for me a boutique.”

Neema snorted but decided not to comment on her friend’s words. After all, they were not alone. Two bodyguards, Kaleb and a new addition, stood near the front door talking in low voices, alert and intimidating. It still felt odd having bodyguards assigned to her protection, but after everything, she couldn’t argue that it made her feel better knowing they were there.

Just then, a loud sigh pulled Neema out of her thoughts, and she turned in time to see Samantha perch on a stool. She patted the one next to her, inviting Neema to sit. “Okay. Talk. I have waited long enough for you to tell me yourself, but it looks like I am going to have to pull some teeth. What’s going on between you and your billionaire lover boy? Because the tension between you two lately is thicker than pie dough.”

She had known this was coming. So she didn’t fight it. Besides, she was tired and needed an ear. Neema lowered herself onto the stool with a sigh so heavy it felt like it came from her bones. “It’s been… Weird.”

“Weird how?” Samantha asked, leaning forward, eyes locked on her like she didn’t want to miss a thing.

“He wanted us to talk about marriage,” Neema murmured, rubbing her palms together. She refused to look at her friend, instead keeping her eyes on the two bodyguards.

Samantha inhaled sharply. “Marriage. That’s… Well. That’s a big conversation.”

“It wasn’t a conversation,” Neema said, grimacing. “It was a bomb. He just walked in and asked me what I thought about marriage out of nowhere.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“So what did you say?”

Neema groaned and covered her face with her hands for a moment before answering. “I told him the truth that it’s too soon. That we’ve barely been together a month. That after everything that’s happened… I’m not ready.”

“Oh, boy. I can already see where this is going, but I will ask nevertheless… And how did he take it?”

Neema lowered her hands slowly. “Not well.”

“Of course.”

“He walked out,” Neema admitted quietly. “And ever since then, he’s been… Distant. Kind, but distant. He barely looks me in the eye sometimes. And when he does… It’s like he’s trying to swallow whatever he wants to say.”

Samantha made a sympathetic sound at the back of her throat. “That man’s pride is thicker than his wallet,” she muttered softly, her eyes darting to the bodyguards as though to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “And it got hurt.”

Neema let out a weak laugh. “Well, I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know you didn’t. And he knows too,” Samantha said. “He’s just licking his wounds. Give him time.”

Neema picked at a small scratch on the surface of the counter, her thoughts wandering back to Quinton’s face that day, the way the hope had drained out of him, replaced by a frustrated kind of hurt he tried so hard to hide. “I don’t want him to think I don’t lo… That I don’t want to be with him. I do. So much that it scares me.”

Samantha reached over and squeezed her hand. “There is no need to hide it from me, Chicka. I already know you love him. That isn’t the problem. Timing is. And trust me… He’ll come around once his ego stops making all the decisions.”

Before Neema could respond, Samantha’s phone vibrated loudly against the counter. The sound was sharp enough that Kaleb’s head snapped up instantly, and the other guard straightened.

Without hesitation, Samantha picked up her phone, glanced at the screen for a minute, and then screamed, startling everyone in a heartbeat.

It took Neema a second to register that her friend hadn’t screamed in fear but excitement, which was clear to see from the wide grin she now wore on her face. Samantha was practically vibrating out of her stool, and her eyes remained glued to her phone.

“What the hell, Samantha! What happened?” Neema demanded.

“OHHHHH MY GOSH!” Samantha yelled, grabbing Neema’s arm and shaking it so hard Neema’s teeth clacked. “Neema! You-You need to see this right now!”

Kaleb took two steps toward them, the man clearly still not sure all was well. Noticing the bodyguard, Samantha held up her phone like it was the Holy Grail. “Relax, Rambo, it’s good news,” she told him.

Neema leaned forward, heart hammering in curiosity and confusion. “Let’s see!”

Samantha turned the phone. “Look at this!”

It thankfully didn’t take long for Neema to figure out what she was looking at. A well-known pastry critic’s name sat at the top of the screen, one Neema recognized instantly. He was famous for being brutal and picky, and impossible to please.

And there it was in bold letters, daring her to believe it. The man had written an article. About her. Neema’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.” Her heart began to beat double time, and Neema wasn’t sure she could read it.

But Samantha wasn’t about to give her a choice. “That’s not even the best part!” Samantha squeaked. “Read! Read! Read!”

Nervous, Neema scanned the article,  her heartbeat rising with every line until she thought she might pass out. Thankfully, it was just a few paragraphs.

‘In a discreet visit to the café where she once baked in relative obscurity, I found myself unexpectedly charmed by the work of pastry chef Neema Madaki. Without prior notice or introduction, I sampled her offerings with no expectations and left thoroughly impressed.

Her pastries display a remarkable balance of flavor and originality, each creation showcasing a precise technique rarely found outside established patisseries. Every bite carried the warmth and comfort of home, elevated by a level of craftsmanship that can only be described as a comforting, warm hug wrapped in excellence.

Rumors now suggest that Neema is preparing to open a café of her own. If her previous work is any indication, I eagerly anticipate discovering what new delights she will bring to the table.’

Neema slapped a hand over her mouth. For a moment, all thoughts of Quinton left her mind. Tears stung her eyes almost instantly. “Samantha…”

“I KNOW!” Samantha yelled.

Neema was frozen stiff for a second, and then they both jumped off the stools at the same time, screaming, laughing, and grabbing each other’s arms. They spun in circles like children, shouting so loudly the guards looked mildly alarmed.

“This is huge!” Samantha cried. “HUGE, Neema! This is… Oh my gosh. Oh my… Chicka, you are about to blow UP! This is a gold star for your café before you even bake a single muffin.”

Neema couldn’t stop laughing, happy tears streaking down her cheeks. “I can’t believe this. I can’t…Samantha, I-”

She didn’t get to finish. The door suddenly opened, and the last person Neema had thought would walk into her café stepped inside. The celebration died immediately.