He took her in, then touched her forearm gently, a gesture that bridged the gap between formality and intimacy. “I’m glad you came. It’s so great to finally meet you in person.”
“You too,” Julia said, surprised by how genuinely she meant it despite her reservations.
They sat, both feeling awkward as they managed the adjustment to the reality of physical presence after weeks of digital connection.
“This is strange, isn’t it?” she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “After all our chats, I’m suddenly tongue-tied.”
“Same here,” Dylan said. “I had this whole mental list of things I wanted to tell you, and now I can’t remember any of them.”
“Maybe we should start with something non-threatening,” Julia smiled. “Like . . . how was your train ride?”
Dylan laughed—a rich sound that sent an unexpected flutter through her. “The train was fine, though I spent the entire ride wondering if you’d actually show up.”
“I almost didn’t,” Julia admitted. “I’ve been second-guessing this decision since I sent that message.”
“And now that you’re here?” Dylan asked, his eyes searching her face.
Just then, the server returned with her sparkling water and turned to Dylan. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Do you have French press coffee?” he asked.
“Medium or dark roast?”
“Dark, please,” Dylan said. “And I’m ready to order if you are?” he added, looking at Julia.
“I’ll need another minute,” she said.
Once the server walked away, Dylan leaned forward. “I have a confession to make.”
Julia’s guard went up. Here it comes, she thought. “Oh?”
“I was so nervous about meeting you that I forgot to eat breakfast,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “Now I’m both starving and trying to play it cool.”
His admission disarmed her. “That makes two of us,” Julia said. “I had coffee in my hotel room but couldn’t manage anything else.”
“Presentation nerves on top of everything else?”
“Actually, the presentation went well yesterday,” Julia said. “Really well, in fact. There was more interest in the warehouse project than I had expected.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dylan said. His eyes were attentive, with the right amount of intensity. “Congratulations.”
They ordered—avocado toast for Julia, a breakfast croissant for Dylan.
The late-morning light streamed through the large windows, painting the exposed brick walls in a warm glow.
“Beautiful place,” Dylan said, looking around at the pressed tin ceiling, the antique botanical prints on walls painted a soft sage and the marble countertops.
“I thought you might appreciate it,” she said. “The owners preserved most of the original architectural elements when they renovated.”
She was grateful for architecture. Objects were so easy to talk about. Julia had many questions for Dylan but decided to wait. They had a whole day ahead of them. Time enough to determine if the man sitting across from her was what he seemed.
When their food arrived, Julia took a bite and said it was the perfect avocado.
Across from her, Dylan began to meticulously dissect his croissant.
“You look like you’re performing surgery on that croissant,” Julia said, smiling.
Dylan looked up. “Achieving the perfect bite is an art form.”
