Chapter Three

By Monday morning, my brief encounter with Tom had almost faded into the background of my thoughts. Almost. 

The weekend had come and gone, and Monday had returned with its usual demands. My alarm went off at six, I got ready for work, and by the time I arrived at the office, I was already mentally reviewing the tasks waiting for me. 

There was a project review scheduled for midmorning, two emails from the development team that needed my attention, and a meeting with management that I hadn’t particularly been looking forward to. In other words, life was back to normal. 

And normal was exactly where I preferred it. 

I settled into my chair, switched on my computer, and began going through my emails. Within minutes, I was absorbed in a discussion about a delayed software update and whether the team could recover the time we’d lost the previous week. 

For the next several hours, Tom didn’t cross my mind. 

Well, not deliberately.

It was only coffee, after all. 

I had exchanged numbers with people before without expecting anything to come of it. There was no reason this should be different simply because the person in question happened to be someone I remembered from high school. 

By the time I left the office that evening, I had more important things to think about. I stopped at a shop on my way home, prepared a quick dinner, and spent the rest of the evening catching up on a few episodes of a series I’d been watching. 

Tuesday passed much the same way.

Work was busy, the weather was unpredictable, and I found myself spending more time than necessary explaining to people why a deadline couldn’t be moved forward simply because someone had decided it would be convenient. 

By Wednesday, I had almost forgotten about the coffee conversation entirely.

Almost.

My phone rang just as I was leaving the kitchen after dinner. 

I glanced at the screen, expecting to see Tasha’s name. Instead, an unfamiliar number appeared.

For a moment, I considered letting it ring. I wasn’t particularly fond of answering numbers I didn’t recognise, especially in the evening. But something made me pick up before it stopped.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is this a bad time?”

The voice was familiar, though it took me a second to place it. 

“Who’s speaking?”

There was a brief pause, followed by a quiet laugh.

“Wow. I give you a few days to recover from seeing me, and you’ve already forgotten my voice?”

I stopped moving.

“Tom?”

“The one and only.”

I couldn’t help smiling at the sound of his voice. “How am I supposed to recognise you from an unknown number?”

“Fair point. I should have introduced myself properly.”

“You should have.”

“Noted.”

I leaned against the kitchen counter, surprised by how easily the conversation had started. “So, you actually called.”

“I said I would.”

“Yes, well, people say a lot of things.”

“And now you’ve confirmed that I’m a man of my word. You’re welcome.”

I laughed. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

“That’s a dangerous conclusion to reach after one phone call.”

I’m just making an observation.”

“And I’m just warning you against making another project report out of it.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “You really do enjoy annoying people.”

“Only the ones who make it so easy.”

There was something comfortable about the exchange, something that reminded me of the conversation we’d had in the supermarket. He had a way of making ordinary remarks sound amusing without trying too hard, and I found myself responding before I had time to think of a sensible reply. 

“So,” he said after a moment, “how has your week been?”

“Busy. Meetings, deadlines, people asking me to do things that should have been done yesterday. The usual.”

“You sound exhausted.”

“That’s because I am.”

“Do you ever take a break?”

“I took a break on Saturday.”

“Going to the supermarket doesn’t count.”

“How would you know? You weren’t there to supervise me.”

“I was there, remember? You were giving that detergent your undivided attention.”

I laughed again. “I  was trying to make a decision.”

“About detergent?”

“Yes. Tom. Some of us take  these things seriously.”

“Clearly.”

I could picture the expression on his face, that same amused look he’d worn while standing beside me in the supermarket aisle.

“And what about you?” I asked. “How’s your week going?”

“Not bad. A little hectic, but manageable.”

“What do you do these days, anyway?”

“That’s a very broad question.”

“Would you prefer that I send you a questionnaire?”

“Only if I get to review it before submission.”

“Tom.”

“All right, all right.” I heard him chuckle. “I work in business development. Mostly partnerships, client relationships, and figuring out how to convince people that working with us is a good idea.”

“So you get paid to talk?”

“Among other things.”

“That explains a lot.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“You can interpret it however you like.”

We spent the next few minutes talking about work, the difference between what we’d imagined adulthood would be like and what it had actually turned out to be, and how strange it was that people we’d once seen every day could become complete strangers without either of them noticing when it happened. 

At one point, he asked whether I still kept in touch with anyone from our old class. 

“Only a few people,” I said. “Most of us went our separate ways.”

“Same here. Though I do occasionally hear news about people. Someone gets married, someone moves abroad, someone suddenly becomes a motivational speaker online.”

I burst out laughing. “A motivational speaker?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Now I want to know who.”

“I’m not giving you names. You can investigate that yourself.”

“You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The conversation moved easily from one subject to another. It wasn’t especially deep, and we weren’t discussing anything remarkable, but I realised at some point that I hadn’t once checked the time. 

That was unusual for me.

I was normally aware of how I spent my evenings, even when I had nothing particularly to do. There was always something I could be reading, organising, or preparing for the next day. Yet here I was, standing in my kitchen talking to a man I hadn’t spoken to in years, with no real reason to keep the conversation going except that I didn’t mind it. 

Eventually, Tom brought us back to the reason for his call.

“So, about that coffee.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “I was wondering how long it would take to mention it.”

“I’m trying not to appear too eager.”

“You’re doing a questionable job.”

“That’s disappointing. I was hoping to impress you.”

“You will have to try harder.”

“I will keep that in mind.” His tone softened slightly. “Seriously, though. Are you free sometime this weekend?”

I considered the question. 

My first instinct was to say that I would check my schedule , even though I knew perfectly well that I had no plans beyond the usual errands and perhaps a visit to Tasha if she was available.

It was an old habit of mine, leaving myself  room to change my mind.

But there was no reason to make a simple invitation complicated. 

“I should be,” I said . “I haven’t made any plans yet.”

“Good. We can find somewhere quiet enough to have an actual conversation.”

“Was the supermarket not quiet enough for you?

“Not when you were busy conducting a full investigation into laundry products.”

I laughed. “You really aren’t going to let that go.”

“Probably not.”

“Then I will have to reconsider this coffee.”

“That’s fair. I will try to behave myself.”

“You should.”

We agreed to speak again and settle on a time and place. Nothing was fixed yet, and I liked it that way. It felt less like making a commitment and more like leaving the door open to see what might happen.

When we finally ended the call, I stood still for a moment, phone in hand. 

The conversation was easy. Easier than I would have expected, considering how long it had been since we’d last spoken. I’d learned a little about his life, discovered his sense of humour was still intact, and found that talking to him didn’t feel like the awkward reunion I’d imagined it might be.  

That didn’t mean anything had to come of it.

We were two adults who had run into each other unexpectedly, exchanged numbers, and agreed to have coffee. People did that all the time.

Still, as I returned to the kitchen to finish clearing away my dinner, I caught myself smiling. 

Perhaps the coffee wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.