Chapter 45: Coffee Was a Lie
Del wasn’t expecting Toby to show up looking like he was on his way to a wedding. She’d barely kicked off her shoes when the doorbell rang, and when she opened it, there he was—button-down shirt, blazer, polished shoes, and that smug grin.
“You’re late,” she said automatically.
“Fashionably,” Toby replied, taking a step back as if to give her the full view. “And I’m here to pick you up for our date.”
“It’s not a date,” Del corrected, pulling her sweater tighter. “We’re just having coffee.”
He laughed, loud enough for her neighbors to probably hear. “Sure.”
Del locked the door behind her, half-wondering if she should have faked being busy. Still, she followed him to his car, reminding herself that one coffee didn’t mean anything.
The drive out of the city gave her time to second-guess. “Which café did you pick?” she asked, staring out the window at the fading afternoon light.
“You’ll see,” Toby said, a little too pleased with himself.
That answer alone made her suspicious. Fifteen minutes later, her suspicions were confirmed when he pulled into the front of a restaurant with gleaming windows and valet parking.
Del sat frozen for a second. “This isn’t a coffee shop.”
Toby turned off the engine and looked at her like she was being silly. “They serve coffee. Among other things.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” Del muttered. “I said yes to coffee, not… this.”
He was already out of the car, circling to open her door like they were starring in some old movie. “Relax. You’ll like it. I reserved us a table.”
Her jaw tightened.
The maître d’ greeted Toby by name, confirming her suspicion that this wasn’t a last-minute choice. He’d planned it, ignoring what she’d actually agreed to. As they followed the hostess inside, Del became acutely aware of how underdressed she was. Her casual dress, oversized sweater, and sneakers made her look like a lost student among all the blouses, crisp suits, and shining shoes.
She glanced sideways at Toby. “You knew where we were going, and you dressed like this.”
He grinned as if that was supposed to charm her. “What can I say? I like to make an impression.”
Del slid into her seat, already wishing she’d shut him down when he first called it a date. She picked up the menu, half-listening as they went through the motions of ordering. By the time her plate of pasta arrived, she was stabbing at it with her fork, certain she regretted saying yes at all.
Toby leaned back in his chair, tapping the edge of his wineglass before finally speaking. “You know, I really don’t get why you let that guy stay with you.”
“Oliver?” Del looked up, annoyed. “Because I wanted to. He’s not bothering me.”
Toby’s jaw tightened. “Still. There’s something off about him.”
Del set her fork down. “That’s not your business.”
“I’m just saying, Del. If I were you, I’d make him pack his things.”
“You’re not me,” she said flatly, leaning back in her chair. “And you don’t get a vote.”
Toby smirked, as if her pushback amused him. “You always play so hard to reach, don’t you? You’ve been ignoring me for over a year, but here we are. Maybe I was right to wait.”
Del crossed her arms. “You didn’t wait. I avoided you.”
“Same thing,” he said with a shrug, as if that settled it. “But I knew you’d give me a chance eventually.”
“Chance for what?”
Toby leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing in focus. “I’ve been interested in you for a long time. Still not sure why. You’re not exactly… friendly.”
Del raised her brows. “Wow. What a compliment.”
He chuckled, unbothered. “I like that you don’t play the game like the others. Most girls trip over themselves trying to impress me. You don’t. That makes you stand out.”
“Or maybe I just don’t like you,” Del muttered.
Instead of being offended, Toby grinned wider. “There it is again. That blunt mouth of yours.”
Del picked her fork back up, trying to ignore him, but he wasn’t finished.
“So, tell me about your family. Friends?” he pressed.
“Why?”
“Because I want to know you.”
“You want information,” Del corrected, then she put her fork down again, exhaling slowly. “Toby, let’s be clear. We’re not friends. This—” she gestured around the restaurant “—was supposed to be coffee. I didn’t ask for all this. And after we’re done here, you’ll stop bothering me.”
Toby just smiled. Then, dinner dragged on longer than Del wanted. Toby leaned forward on his elbows, his questions piling on top of each other like he was interrogating her instead of making conversation.
“So, you’re twenty-four and still in school? Why not done yet? Did you take time off?”
Del cut into her food and kept her eyes on the plate. “It doesn’t matter. I’m finishing next year.”
He raised a brow. “But why the delay? A gap year? Travel?”
“Just life.” She shoved a bite into her mouth, wishing he’d get the hint.
He tapped the table. “And after graduation? What’s next?”
Del swallowed. “Not dinner with you again, that’s for sure.”
Toby smirked like she was joking. “You’re funny. But seriously—career plans?”
“Whatever pays to get out of here,” Del said.
Toby was clearly enjoying himself, but by the time dessert came, he steered into more personal territory.
“I read something about your family, you know. That burglary… your parents. The accident.”
Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “It wasn’t an accident.”
He blinked as though the correction barely mattered. “Right. Sure. They killed both your parents. Not really an accident. Still, fortunate you made it out.”
Her chest tightened, her hand gripping the fork hard. “I lost both of them in one night. That isn’t fortunate. I loved them. I still do.”
Toby leaned back in his chair, watching her with an almost curious interest, like she was a case study. “Guess that explains why you keep to yourself.”
Del set her fork down and pushed the plate away. “I’m done. I want to go home.”
“You’re overreacting,” he said lightly, grinning as though the subject had been casual.
She stood up. “I said I’m done.”
He reached across the table, palm up. “Hey, relax. I’m just talking. No need to storm out.”
Del didn’t answer. She grabbed her bag, walked past him, and headed for the door. Toby called her name behind her, his voice carrying across the restaurant, but she didn’t look back.
Outside, she hailed the first cab she saw. The ride felt longer than it was, her mind replaying the way he looked, so casual, when she told him about her parents—as if it was trivia.
By the time she got home, it was only half past six. The lights were already on inside. She stepped through the door, shoulders heavy, and found Oliver in the living room.
He glanced up from where he was stretched on the couch with a phone in his hand. “Hey. You’re back early.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “What happened?”
Del kicked her shoes off by the door. “Coffee was a lie.”