Promise

Chapter 11: More Than One

Robyn

Christian: Coffee?

I smiled. Christian was never one for last minute things—he liked order–but these days, he was spontaneous like that. He never planned anything in advance, just reached out two minutes before he wanted to do something.

Robyn: Now?

Christian: No time like the present.

Robyn: Let's do it.

Christian: Are you at work or home? I'll pick you up.

Robyn: No need, there's a café in between our buildings called The Bean. Just walk there. I'll meet you.

Christian: Walk there? What the hell do you think I am?

Robyn: Too good to walk apparently.
Robyn: It's a two-minute journey. Last one there buys :)

Predictably, I was already seated by the time Christian strolled in, dressed to the nines, in a four-figure navy blue Kiton suit and maroon tie, looking as dignified as a duke. He looked comically out of place in the tiny hole-in-the-wall café, and my heart sang at the fact that he physically went out of his comfort zone for me.

The entire café gawked openly at him, falling silent, as his eyes scanned the place before they fell on mine, and he stalked straight to me, pulling my chair out for me to stand up. He looked like he was going to the Oscars. On the other hand, I looked like I was still a college student in my sunflower print white dress and strappy sandals.

"Hi," I smiled softly. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here," he said in that endlessly calm voice, as we walked to the counter together. "You asked me, didn't you?"

I stood next to him, barely reaching his shoulder and feeling insignificant in every sense of the word. The cute barista's jaw hung wide open, probably figuring out how to tell her manager that Christian Ryder was in their little establishment.

"What do you get?" He pressed a hand on my lower back, nudging me in front of him. I ignored the jolt of electricity that travelled down my spine.

"Iced chai, light ice, and an extra shot of chai," I said to the barista, as she finally collected her jaw off the ground and wiped the drool off her chin.

"I'll have the same," he said to her, somehow making her positively swoon. I dug my wallet out to pay but he slapped a $50 on the counter, telling her to keep the change. Jesus.

"You said last one here buys," he justified, still not removing his hand from my back as he ushered me back to the table. "What are you making me do, Robyn?" He grumbled, pulling the chair of the little booth out and settling in.

It was hysterical, watching his tall body adjust in the tiny chair. He shifted it back and forth, trying hard to get comfortable.

Suppressing a smile, I tried to ignore the audience we had. Everyone stared, probably trying to figure out what New York's handsomest and most eligible man was doing with me.

"Thank you for coming anyway."

Resting his forearms on the tiny table between us, he leaned in close, flashing a gentle smile. "I have seventeen years of Robyn Hale to catch up on. If you think I'd ever give up a chance to see you, you're wrong."

My heart pounded so violently I was sure he could hear it.

"You say the sweetest things, Christian Ryder."

"You're worth saying them to, Robyn Hale."

"So, how was your day?" I asked, as the barista dropped our drinks off at the table. It also didn't escape my notice that she had scribbled her number with a couple of hearts and XOXOs on the napkin. Christian didn't notice. I secretly hoped he wouldn't.