Ivy studies me. “What’s so different about it?”
“It’s slower,” I explain. “Less about grabbing a quick caffeine fix, more about sitting down, enjoying the moment, actually taking a break. You can sit in a Viennese café for hours and no one rushes you out. My grandfather loved that.”
She hums thoughtfully, chewing on a chip. “And you decided to bring that to Shoreditch?”
I give a small shrug. “I wanted to do something different. Something that mattered to me.”
She studies me for a second, then asks, “What were you doing before this?”
I hesitate for a beat before answering. “I was a lawyer.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You were a lawyer?”
“Yep.” I stab a piece of sausage with my fork. “Corporate law. Contracts, negotiations, all that exciting stuff.”
Ivy gives me a long, sceptical look. “No offence, but you don’t look like a lawyer.”
I smirk. “What does a lawyer look like?”
She waves a hand at me. “I don’t know. Smoother. More sleeze, less... scruffy, rugged coffeehouse owner energy.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, well, I gave it up.”
Her expression shifts slightly—less teasing, more curious. “Why?”
I glance at Lucy, who is now happily dipping a chip into her ketchup, completely oblivious to the conversation.
I sigh. “Four years ago, her mum walked out on us. Just… left. No warning, no big dramatic fight, just—gone.”
Ivy stills, her smile fading. “Oh.”
“I tried to do both for a couple of years—be a single dad and keep up with my job. But I burned out. Badly.” I let out a short breath, shaking my head at the memory. “So I quit. Took a year off to just be with Lucy. I needed to figure out what I actually wanted.”
She’s quiet for a moment, watching me carefully. “And that’s when you started planning this place?”
“Yeah.” I glance around the café, feeling the familiar mix of pride and exhaustion that comes with it. “It wasn’t easy, but I wanted to build something that made sense for our life. Something stable. Something that is ours.”
Ivy smiles softly, her eyes warm. “That’s… really lovely, actually.”
I shrug, trying to downplay it. “It’s something.”
She looks like she wants to say more, but before she can, Lucy suddenly pipes up.
“Daddy, can I have more ketchup, please?”
The moment breaks.
I chuckle, grabbing the bottle from the table. “Yeah, Ladybug, you can have more ketchup.”
As I squirt some on her plate, I catch Ivy watching me again, but this time with something different in her expression—something I can’t quite place.
I suddenly realise how easy it’s been, sitting here, talking to her despite me barely knowing her.
And I don’t know why that unnerves me so much.
6
Bendy Yoga Friends
