Sonia M. Rompoti, MSc, Bsc

It was raining in the particular way of a city that had decided to make a point, and Freya had forgotten hers, and the man under the awning beside her had two.

“Spare?” she said, nodding at the second one.

He looked down as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “My sister’s. She left it in my car.” He paused. “You can borrow it.”

“I’m going to the tube station. That’s four minutes.”

“Four very wet minutes.”

She took the umbrella. She turned back. “I can’t return it if I don’t know your name.”

His name was Callum. He worked two streets away. She could drop it at his office, he said — and gave her the address with the casual confidence of someone who expected it to be used.

She returned the umbrella the following afternoon. His assistant tried to take it. She asked for Callum directly. He appeared from a back office, surprised and then not surprised, and she could tell the difference.

“Coffee?” he said. “To compensate for the detour.”

“I’m on my lunch break.”

“So am I.”

They were gone for two hours. His assistant, who had seen many things, said nothing.

They married three years later. At the wedding his sister leaned over during the speeches and whispered: I left that umbrella on purpose. I do it every time.

Nobody told Callum. It was, his sister felt, a reasonable price for happiness.

So you made it to the end… which probably means you’re the kind of person who enjoys a little romance with their coffee ☕. If you’re in the mood for more stories about messy feelings, stubborn attraction, and women who absolutely refuse to settle for boring love, you can find all my books here.

Fair warning though. One story tends to lead to another. I’ve seen it happen. Repeatedly.