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    Breakfast at Spacey’s Supernova Café
    Breakfast at Spacey’s Supernova Café
    Breakfast at Spacey’s Supernova Café
    Ebook71 pages1 hour

    Breakfast at Spacey’s Supernova Café

    By Ariana Kell

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    About this ebook

    Spacey’s Supernova Café is a coffee shop with the best scones in the universe, but for its customers it's much more: an escape from your repressive family's strict rules, a meeting point for your new hookup, and the perfect place to fall in love.

    Abby started working at Spacey’s because of the scones, but the baker is pretty great, too. She’s too busy taking care of her best friend, a new mom, to think about romance, until one night when the baby won’t sleep. She takes him for a walk and ends up in the kitchen at Spacey’s having an intimate conversation.

    Buzzing with drama, caffeine addiction, and new relationships, Breakfast at Spacey’s Supernova Café tells five stories of romance where the espresso is strong and attraction is stronger.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Shorts
    Release dateJun 16, 2020
    ISBN9781094410746
    Author

    Ariana Kell

    Ariana Kell falls in love with her characters first, to test them out. Besides romance, she enjoys other indulgent things like making double chocolate raspberry cake and lying in bed on sunny mornings, as well as non-indulgent things like returning emails and trying to make the world a better place.

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      Book preview

      Breakfast at Spacey’s Supernova Café - Ariana Kell

      Part 1: Lemon Croissants

      At Spacey’s, I ordered a chai and a lemon croissant. I know, lemon croissants are weird. I think so, too. But Dia loved them. She was so excited when she found this shop. She called me at work to tell me about it.

      Guess what! she’d said, in a whisper like she was telling me the biggest secret of her life, or like she was the one who was supposed to be restocking shelves instead of talking to her sister.

      What? I demanded. The store is so big it’s not actually that risky to take personal calls while you’re on the floor. Sometimes I go an hour without seeing anybody.

      I found a coffee shop that sells lemon croissants!

      "Lemon croissants?"

      Yes! They’re so good, I promise you: We had them in this hole-in-the-wall café in Paris, the morning after… you know.

      During her semester abroad in college, Dia had hot sex at midnight with a stranger on a bridge over the Seine. That’s the kind of thing that happens to Dia — happened.

      Anyway, she dragged me out with her the next morning to make the pilgrimage to the lemon croissants, and that was the beginning of our weekly breakfasts at Spacey’s.

      After she was gone, I came alone every morning, and every morning, I got my chai and a lemon croissant. I didn’t usually even eat it, to tell you the truth, but I just had to make sure someone bought them. I had this fear that if I stopped buying them, Spacey’s might stop selling them, and Dia would be so sad if she could see.

      I sat on one of the tall stools by the window and tugged my dress down. It was Dia’s dress, a bright blue with straps that showed more of my skin than I was used to; the kind of dress you wear to have sex on a bridge at midnight. So her. It made me feel like she was still there in the world with me. I sipped my chai and pushed the croissant around on my plate. I was never hungry anyway.

      I sat listening to the silence where Dia’s chatter should have been, watching people going in and out of the Dunkin’ Donuts across the street. I noticed one man my age who had an astonishing old-fashioned straw hat with calla lilies on it. We’d had calla lilies at Dia’s funeral; she’d hated regular lilies, and I’d had it out with the director of the funeral home Big Mom hired, who insisted that no funeral was complete without lilies. Little Mom, always the peacemaker in our family of stubborn women, suggested calla lilies, and so my last glimpse of my sister was of her in the coffin surrounded by calla lilies.

      All of a sudden, there was a BOOM that rattled my mug of chai, and people came charging out of the Dunkin’ Donuts, screaming and crashing into anyone in their path. The man with the straw hat went flying, and his hat tumbled into the street, strewing calla lilies in its path.

      Before the hat even stopped rolling, I was on my feet and out the door. I jumped off the curb and dove between the cars. I reached the hat just as a big black SUV rolled toward it. The horn blared as I snatched it up.

      Ears ringing, I stepped up on the far curb. Steam was whistling up through cracks in the roof of the Dunkin’ Donuts like it had suddenly developed a geyser.

      The espresso machine exploded! someone shouted into their phone, waving their free hand wildly and almost hitting me in the nose

      The man whose hat I held sat dazed on the sidewalk.

      Are you okay? I asked, crouching down next to him, tucking up Dia’s dress so that it wouldn’t drag on the dirty asphalt. I rescued your hat.

      Thanks, he said vaguely. I’m okay, I think.

      Did you hit your head? I asked him. Do you think you have a concussion?

      Dia always told me I tried to take care of people too much. I already have two moms! she’d say, making horrible faces when I told her to be more careful. I don’t need another one! If she’d listened to my worries, she’d be here now.

      How many fingers am I holding up? I asked.

      Three fingers, he answered correctly. And one hat, he added. I gave it to him.

      Thanks, he said again, getting to his feet.

      I was reluctant to leave him, in case he really had hit his head. Also, I had saved this ridiculous flowery hat from being crushed by a car, and I wanted to know the story behind it.

      I don’t know what I’m going to do, the man said, looking helplessly at the Dunkin’ Donuts. Steam was still pouring from the roof and out the front door, and I heard sirens in the distance. I need my doughnut for breakfast, and my coffee. Just two more coffees and I’ll have a full punch card and get one free!

      I decided that, three fingers or no, he definitely needed someone with him.

      Why don’t you come across the street to Spacey’s? I suggested in my best mom voice, the one even Dia sometimes listened to. They have pretty good coffee. Would you like a lemon croissant?

      "A lemon croissant?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as if that were the weirdest thing he’d ever heard of.

      Yeah, I said, a little defensively.

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