real, right? They’re made up! I’ve watched about ten thousand more rom-coms than I ever wanted to see because of you, and I can definitely say that they’re all bullshit.”
“They aren’t!” I start to protest, but Chloe cuts me off.
“I’m not trying to insult them, because I know you love them and I’m sure the rom-com you write is going to be a cinematic masterpiece, but you can’t live your life by their rules. I mean, I don’t let what I watch affect my life.”
“That’s because you mostly watch documentaries about murder,” I point out.
“True. And I guess I have changed a lot of my actions. I don’t wear a ponytail anymore, that’s for sure. Makes it easier for some guy to yank it and pull you into a darkened alley,” she says, pulling a pretend ponytail.
“Just because I’m looking for what I know I deserve doesn’t mean I’m being unrealistic,” I say primly, as if this is all a joke for me, but really it isn’t. I have so little of my mom, but this—her movies, her insistence that I not settle—is what I remember.
“Join the rest of us here on planet Earth,” Chloe whispers, grabbing my hands. “We get free drinks from men and enjoy commitment-less sex. It’s great.”
“I’m not interested in meaningless sex,” I say, trying to focus on my laptop. “I want a connection.”
“Re-download Tinder and I can help you find a connection,” Chloe says, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I’m not hearing this,” Nick says from behind the counter, turning on the espresso machine.
“Nick,” Chloe says with a sugary-sweet smile as soon as the machine shuts off. “Have you given any more thought to my suggestion?”
“You mean your suggestion that I change the name of my place?” Nick asks, rubbing one hand over the brown scruff on his chin. Nick’s in his early thirties, lanky, and one of those guys whose face is covered in a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, even at ten in the morning. “Nick’s my name. I own the shop. It makes sense.”
Chloe sighs in exasperation, pursing her pink-glossed lips. “Haven’t you ever heard of puns, Nick?”
“I hate puns,” Nick says, handing the espresso to a regular customer named Gary, an older guy who always wears a beat-up Ohio State baseball cap.
“The Daily Grind! Thanks a Latte!” Chloe shouts.
“Brewed Awakening,” says Tobin. Nick shoots him a dirty look.
“Pizza My Heart,” Gary says as he takes a seat, and we all turn to look at him.
“I mean, you’d have to become a pizza place for that one to work,” he says, taking a sip.
Nick shakes his head. “I trusted you, Gary.”
“I think it’s a great suggestion,” Chloe says, beaming at Gary. With her cute blond milkmaid braid and her flowered apron, she looks like some sort of adorable coffee angel.
“Why are you sitting down, again?” Nick asks. “Instead of, I don’t know, working?”
“I’m on my break!” Chloe says, pulling out her phone. “And hold on, I’m trying to help Annie Cassidy find true love.”
Chloe doesn’t only work at Nick’s, although dealing with Nick’s endearing grumpiness could be considered a full-time job. She also goes to business school, where she’s been taking classes super slowly at night since most of her time and money goes toward her dad and the payments for his memory-care facility. Because I know she’s busy, I try to discourage her from making my quest for love her side hustle, but so far I haven’t had any luck.
“Thank you for your efforts,” I say, “but that isn’t how this works. I’m not going to find my Tom Hanks by actively looking for him, which is why all the dates you’ve set me up on or that I’ve found through whatever app you made me download that week have been miserable failures. I just have to find him, through fate or luck or—”
“Oh, my God.” Chloe slams a hand down on the table, making coffee slosh over the edge of my mug. “Have you read the Dispatch today?”
“Why?” Nick asks, uninterested. “Does it have a headline about Annie’s love life?”
“There’s going to be a movie filming here, in German Village!” Chloe says.
Nick wipes down a counter. “Big deal. Remember when Bradley Cooper filmed a movie here? All that happened was his bodyguards camped out all day to use the Wi-Fi and they never ordered anything. Also they peed on the toilet seat.”
“They were so cool,” Tobin says wistfully.
“Oh, my God, it’s a romantic comedy from Tommy Crisante, and filming starts next week,” Chloe continues, her