Started as His Wife (ON HIATUS)

Otherwise

Third-Person POV

"Hi, welcome to—" he greets, lifting his head up from behind the counter, "—Viv." 

"Why do you look surprised that its me?" she chuckles, letting the front door swing closed from behind her. "You mind making me a latte? I've had a the worst day at work," she sighs, pulling out a chair, falling into it, and laying her head against the table. 

"Don't put your face on that," Luke  scolds, "It's dirty."

"Yeah right. You've probably wiped it down a hundred times since the last time someone used it."

He sighs in response but leaves her alone, beginning to prepare the hot drink. Vivian, with her cheek pressed against the flat table, looks off the the side, slightly upwards. She sees him move with ease around the drink station, grabbing things and moving his hands seamlessly, as he knew exactly where everything was and how everything worked. Wendy might be the owner of the shop, but it really belonged to Luke. He knew the ins-and-outs of everything—the appliances, what products sold, how to make every baked good, how to prepare drinks, and even the finances. 

In a matter of minutes, the latte was gently placed in front of her face atop the table. The cup was so close to Vivian's face, she would see the soft, white strips of stream swirl from it. 

"Drink it before it gets cold," Luke instructs. "Hungry?" 

"A bit. Give me a croissant will you? And put some peanut butter and jam in it for me."

"Do it yourself."

"I've had a bad day though," she groans, her face still flat against the table. 

"That's not my problem," he responds, but prepares her requested snack nevertheless at the counter top. Keeping his eyes and focus on the croissant, Luke asks, "So, what happened at work?"

"Everyone hates me," she frowns. 

"Why would anyone hate you?"

"I don't know. I always thought I was a decent person, but I guess I'm just hate-able." 

"You are."

"Hate-able?"

"No... I meant decent."

"Thanks, I guess..." she sighs. 

"Well, why do you think people hate you?" 

"I overhear them talking about me, especially inn the break room. They say I'm trying to flirt to get a promotion. I want the promotion for sure, but I wasn't flirting...being overly friendly maybe."

"Do people really hate you just because of that?"

"Well, not exactly. It was because I got uncomfortable after hearing that, so I've been purposely cold and bitchy at work. I get shit done and done well, but I guess you have to be somewhat likable to get a promotion."

"Just get a job without coworkers. Then you don't have to worry about them liking you."

"That's awful advice—no, it doesn't even make sense."

"It does. Wendy only hired me, so I got promoted as manager."

"You're a manager that manages nobody."

"I manage Wendy," Luke corrects her. 

He walks out from behind the counter to deliver Vivian's croissant, and as the plate clinks against the table, she lifts her head up to finally take a sip of the latte. He turns around to compulsively do busy work, but Vivian reaches out and grabs his arm.