Chapter Four

By Saturday morning, I had almost convinced myself that meeting Tom for coffee was no big deal.

It was  just coffee. Two people catching up after years of not seeing each other. 

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

We had spoken briefly on Thursday evening to settle on a time and place. He suggested a cafe in town, somewhere he said served decent coffee and didn’t play music loudly to interrupt a conversation. I agreed, and we settled on eleven o’clock.

I had no particular plans for the rest of the day, so there was little reason to turn down the invitation. 

Still, when Saturday arrived, I found myself taking a little more time than usual to get ready. 

I wasn’t dressing up for him. I simply wanted to look presentable. There was a difference, and I was choosing to believe it. 

After a shower, I settled on a pair of well-fitted jeans, a simple blouse, and comfortable shoes. I left my hair down, applied a little makeup, and checked myself in the mirror before picking up my handbag. 

Satisfied, I headed out. 

The cafe was busier than expected when I arrived. It had large windows, wooden tables, and the pleasant smell of freshly brewed coffee. A few people were working on their laptops, while others sat talking over breakfast. 

I glanced around, looking for Tom.

He was already there, seated at a table near the window. 

He noticed me almost immediately and raised a hand in greeting.

“Look who is on time,” he said as I approached.

I smiled. “I could say the same about you.”

He stood up as I reached the table, pulled out the chair for me, and waited for me to sit. 

“Thank you,” I said, settling in. 

“Always a pleasure,” he replied with a smile.

“Good to see you again,” he said, taking his seat opposite me. 

“You too.”

For a moment, we exchanged the sort of polite smiles people do when they are still finding their rhythm. Then he handed me a menu. 

“I’ve already ordered coffee,” he said. “But I thought I’d let you decide what you want rather than make assumptions.”

“That is very considerate of you.”

“I’m working on my reputation.”

I looked at him over the menu. “Is there a reputation I should know about?”

“Apparently, there are several. I’m still trying to find out which ones are true.”

I laughed and turned my attention to the menu. 

I ordered a latte and a croissant. Once the waitress had taken our order, I placed my handbag beside my chair and looked across the table at him.

“So,” I said, “business development.”

He nodded. “That is what I do.”

“How did you end up in that?”

“Accidentally, more or less. I started out doing sales, then moved into client management. Eventually, I found myself working with partnerships and business development. Turns out I’m quite good at talking to people.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Should I be offended?”

“Not at all. You were always good at talking. Whether people wanted to listen was another matter.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I deserved that.”

We spoke about work for a little while, comparing the demands of our respective jobs. He seemed genuinely interested when I explained what being a project manager involved, asking questions about the teams I coordinated and how I handled difficult deadlines. 

I found myself explaining more than I normally would to someone I’d only just reconnected with.

He listened without constantly checking his phone or interrupting, which I appreciated. 

“So you are basically the person everyone blames when something goes wrong?” he asked.

“That is one way of putting it.”

“And when everything goes right?’

“Then everyone did their part.”

He laughed. “I see. That is a tough job.”

“It has its moments.”

Our drinks arrived, giving us a brief pause while we thanked the waitress and settled in. 

I took a sip of coffee.

The conversation continued and we moved away from work and began talking about life outside the office. He told me he enjoyed travelling when he could, liked trying different restaurants, and occasionally spent his weekends watching football or catching up with friends.

I told him about my love of quiet weekends, the occasional shopping trip, and how I enjoy having time to myself after a demanding week. 

“So you really do enjoy your own company?” he asked.

“I do. Is that so unusual?”

“No. I just think a lot of people struggle with being alone.”

“I don’t see the problem with it. I enjoy spending time with people, but I also like having my own space.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s fair.”

“What about you?”

“I enjoy my own company too, but I’m probably more social than you are.”

“Probably?”

“Definitely,” he corrected, smiling.

We laughed, and for a moment I found myself wondering why I’d ever thought talking to him would be difficult.

Perhaps it was because I had spent so many years remembering the version of Tom that existed in high school. The boy who seemed to be constantly getting into arguments, arriving late, and doing things simply because someone had told him not to. 

The man sitting opposite me was different.

Or perhaps he had always been more complicated than I had allowed myself to see.

“So,” he said, bringing me out of my thoughts, “can I ask you something?”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Go on.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

I looked up from my coffee, slightly amused by how casually he’d asked. 

“Straight to the point, aren’t you?

“I’m just curious.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t seen you in years, and I’d like to know what has been happening in your life. Surely that is a reasonable question.”

I smiled. “Fair enough. No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Single, then?”

“Very much so.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

“And you are happy with that?”

“I am. I’ve got a good job, a comfortable life, lovely friends, and enough things to keep me occupied. I’m not particularly worried about being single.”

“That’s good.”

I tilted my head. “What about you? Are you asking all these questions while keeping your own life a mystery?”

He laughed.

“Fair enough. I’m single too.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know. I just assumed someone like you would have a girlfriend.”

“Someone like me?”

“I shrugged. “You seem like someone who wouldn’t have much trouble meeting people.”

“That's an interesting way of putting it.”

“Was I wrong?”

“No, not entirely. Meeting people isn't the difficult part. Finding someone you genuinely connect with is another matter.”

I considered his answer.

“So you've been dating?”

“Here and there. Nothing serious for a while.”

“Why not?”

He smiled faintly. “I suppose I haven't met the right person. Or perhaps I've become a little more particular about who I give my time to.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Does it?”

“Definitely. I've met people, gone on a few dates, but nothing has really made me want to pursue anything further.”

“What's usually the problem?”

I laughed. “Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

“I have time.”

“Sometimes people are more interested in the idea of being in a relationship than actually getting to know someone. Others seem to think that because you’re single, you must be desperate to settle down.”

He chuckled. “I’ve encountered that too.”

Tom nodded. 

“I like that answer.”

“What about you?”

“Pretty much the same. I'm at a point where I value peace, honesty, and consistency. I don't have the patience for games anymore.”

“That's a very mature answer.”

“I'm a mature man.”

I laughed. “I suppose we'll see about that.”

He placed a hand against his chest, pretending to be offended.

“Ouch,” he said, smiling.

“I'm sure you'll recover.”

We both laughed.

There was something refreshing about the conversation. We weren't trying to impress each other with grand stories or pretend our lives were more exciting than they were. We were simply talking, sharing little pieces of ourselves that didn't usually come up in everyday conversations.

“So,” he said after a moment, “do you actually enjoy being single, or have you just become very good at convincing yourself that you do?”

I looked at him, surprised by the question.

“That's rather deep for a Saturday morning.”

“I'm allowed one serious question.”

I smiled and thought about it.

“I genuinely enjoy my life. I don't wake up every morning wishing I had someone beside me. But that doesn't mean I'm against having someone. If the right person comes along, I'm open to it.”

“That's fair.”

“What about you?”

“Same here. I'm not actively searching, but I'm not closed off to the possibility either.”

I nodded. It was an answer I understood.

We moved on to lighter subjects, talking about travel, favourite restaurants, music, and the little things we enjoyed doing when work wasn't taking up most of our time. Tom had a dry sense of humour that caught me off guard more than once, and I found myself laughing far more than I had expected.

At some point, he asked whether I enjoyed cooking.

“I do, when I have the time.”

“So you can cook?”

I gave him a suspicious look. “Why does that sound like a test?”

“I'm gathering information.”

“About what?”

“Important things.”

I laughed. “Well, I can cook. Whether I'm willing to do it every day is an entirely different question.”

“Noted.”

“And you?”

“I can manage.”

“Manage?”

“I'm not going to pretend I'm a professional chef. But I won't starve.”

“That sounds reassuring.”

“I know how to follow a recipe.”

“That's a start.”

He grinned. “You're very difficult to impress.”

“I'm just being honest.”

“Fair enough.”

Before I knew it, almost an hour and a half had passed. I glanced at my watch and realised I had been sitting there much longer than I intended. 

“I should probably get going,” I said. “I have a few things to do at home.”

“Of course.”

He asked for the bill before I could reach for my purse.

“You don't have to do that,” I said.

“I know. I invited you.”

“I'm perfectly capable of paying for my own coffee.”

“I don't doubt that. But allow me this one.”

I decided not to argue.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

We stepped outside a few minutes later. The weather was pleasant, with a light breeze moving through the street.

“Well,” he said, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets, “I enjoyed this.”

“Me too.”

“Perhaps we should do it again sometime.”

I smiled. “Perhaps.”

He shook his head, amused.

“You really do make a man work for a straight answer.”

“I'm not sure what you're talking about.”

“Of course you aren't.”

We laughed, exchanged our goodbyes, and went our separate ways.

As I drove home, I found myself reflecting on the conversation. I had learned a few things about Tom, perhaps more than I expected to. He was single, he seemed settled in his career, and he appeared to have a clearer understanding of what he wanted from life and relationships.

More importantly, I enjoyed his company. 

There had been no awkward silences, no uncomfortable attempts to impress each other, and no pressure to turn the meeting into something it wasn’t.

It had simply been a pleasant morning with good conversation and even better coffee. 

I wasn’t about to start imagining a future with him after one meeting. That would be getting ahead of myself. 

But I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

I was happy to let things unfold in their own time.