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  • Writer's pictureMelissa McTernan

It's You: Part 1

Here's another multiple part story for you. A romance, of course. It's one of the first stories I wrote when writing turned into a thing for me, but I still like it, so here it is...

“It’s you.” He half whispered the words. They fell, tumbled out of his shocked mouth, but she heard him anyway. She looked up and handed him his coffee with a smile. A smile that made his pulse quicken and his throat close up. Keep breathing, he reminded himself.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asked, her dark eyebrows raised. Those eyes, dark brown with amber around the center, and the three small freckles below her left eye; it was definitely her this time.

Play it cool, he thought to himself, don’t blow it. It’s really her. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones, but he didn’t want to scare her away.

“Uh, no, sorry, you look like someone I used to know.”

She smiled at him again, more of a smirk really, like she didn’t quite believe him like guys used that line on her all the time.

“Are you new around here? I haven’t seen you in here before,” she asked as an excuse to keep talking to him, even though the line behind him was growing. There was something about him, but what was it? He was certainly good looking, in almost an old fashioned kind of way. Maybe it was the suit. Or the haircut. It was a little longer on top and parted to the side, like something out of another era. He was still staring at her in a way that made her uncomfortable, but also like she didn’t want him to stop. His eyes were so blue they were nearly translucent.

“Yes, I just moved in down the street, actually,” he answered her finally. How long had they been looking at each other? Judging by the faces on the customers behind him, too long.

“Okay, well I guess I’ll see you again some time then? I’m here every morning,” she told him.

“Perfect. I will see you tomorrow then,” he said with a relieved smile. Knowing he would see her again slowed his racing heart. He didn’t realize until after he left that he didn’t ask her name. He felt like he already knew it.


He came in every morning that week and ordered a black coffee, an unusual order for this place. He was definitely flirting with her, she thought, but it was more than flirting. There was no lightness to it. There was too much urgency. He made her nervous, and after the third morning, she noticed his wedding ring.

“You never bring your wife in with you,” she said, deciding to be direct after she couldn’t fall asleep the night before thinking about him.

He looked startled and confused for a minute, and then he remembered his ring. He touched it as though to remind himself of something. “I’m a widower actually,” he said, raising his sad blue eyes to look at her. Something inside her shifted. No wonder he seemed so intense; he missed his wife.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, holding out his cup to him. His fingers touched hers for just a minute but it was enough to give him courage.

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” he asked, but then immediately regretted it. He asked at the wrong time. Who would ask someone out on a date right after telling her his wife was dead? He had done it all wrong. He blew his chance to get closer to her, but before he could finish berating himself, she answered him.


“Tomorrow for dinner?” His whole face lit up when she agreed.

Part 2 coming the week of August 16

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