Sonia M. Rompoti, MSc, Bsc

It happened over soup.

She’d been having lunch alone at the counter of the small Japanese place on Wren Street, as she did on Tuesdays, and he’d been brought by a colleague, and the only available seat was beside her.

She knew him. Not personally — professionally. He was the director her agency reported to, the one on the other end of strained monthly calls, the one she’d described to her business partner as difficult, which was the word she used when she meant intimidating.

“Miso or ramen?” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

“You looked like you were deciding. I can tell you the ramen is better.”

She ordered the ramen.

He was not what she was expecting from the calls. On the calls he was precise and demanding and she’d constructed a whole person from that — a man of sharp lines. In person he was — quieter. He asked after her team before she’d decided how to begin. He’d remembered something she’d mentioned in passing seven months ago and asked how it had resolved.

“You remember that?” she said.

“It seemed important to you.” He shrugged. “Small things tell you a lot.”

She rearranged him in her head. Partially.

“I’ve always assumed you found me difficult,” she said, because she was tired of the professional performance and the ramen was good and Tuesday lunch was her honest hour.

He looked at her. “I find you the opposite of difficult,” he said. “I find you direct, which some people struggle with. I don’t.”

“You push back constantly.”

“Because you’re worth pushing. You always have an answer.” He said it simply, like it was a fact he’d had for a while. “Most people don’t.”

She sat with that.

They ran over their lunch hour by forty minutes. His colleague had long since left. She did not notice when.

He said, at the door: “We’ve been on the same calls for two years and this is the most I’ve learned about you.”

“We were performing,” she said.

“Yes.” He held the door. “I’d rather not, if that’s an option.”

“It’s an option,” she said.

He texted her that evening. Not about work.

She answered not about work.

By Friday something had settled between them — not decided, but present, the way certain things are present before they’re named.

She stopped finding him difficult. She found him necessary, which was both better and more complicated, and she went forward into it with her eyes open and her head up, which was the only way she knew how.

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.