The Exception by Lauren H. Mae

Fifteen

“Why do we always eat here?” Sonya asked as she took her usual chair facing the window. It was the second Sunday of the month and they were at Blooms Cafe like they had been last month, and the month before that, and for as long as she could remember, really.

“Because the food is good,” Cat said. “And it’s mid-way between our houses.”

“It’s not anymore now that Dani is always at Dylan’s. It was different when it was just Cat living out there but now it’s fifty-percent unfair. You both had to drive eight minutes longer than me and Em to get here.”

Dani shrugged. “Yeah, but now I can just hitch a ride with Cat. Do you have a better suggestion?”

Sonya pulled her lip between her teeth and tried to think of somewhere closer but her rigid brain was part of the problem. “I guess not. It’s just, do you ever wonder how much routine weighs into our everyday decisions? What if we’re missing out on the best pancakes in town because we picked this place one day and it became comfortable and easy.”

Cat shot a look at Dani, then folded her hands on the table. “Sonya, it really feels like we’re not talking about pancakes right now.”

Dani nodded. “What’s up?”

“Is something up?” Emma arrived, shrugging off her jacket and passing out hugs before taking her seat. The red chair between Sonya and Cat, as always.

Sonya’s pulse ticked up anxiously. This wouldn’t do. “You,” she said, pushing away from the table and pointing at Emma. “Swap seats with me.”

“What?” Emma scrambled out of the chair she’d just sat down in.

Dani giggled. “Oh, boy.”

Sonya nudged Emma into the blue chair and handed over her jacket and purse. “What is going on, Sonya?”

“I wanted this seat.” She pointed across the table. “Dani, Cat, swap.”

“No.” Cat took a sip from her water glass as if to mark it. “Tell us what this is about.”

Sonya dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know,” she groaned. “I think I’m having an existential crisis.”

“About?”

“Did you know I eat the same thing every week, like on a schedule? I didn’t even realize I did it. Wednesday, it’s turkey. Thursday, I always put a little extra hummus on my salad.”

“Woah,” Dani joked. “Wildin’.”

“And every second Sunday of the month, I sit in the blue chair at Blooms with y’all and order—”

“Cheddar and spinach omelet with extra spinach,” they all said.

“Thanks for proving my point.”

“So what, Sonya?” Dani said. “Every morning at six-fourteen on the dot, Dylan rolls over and pushes his morning wood into my back. Humans are creatures of habit.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “Unnecessary, Dani.”

“The point is, I’m predictable. My life is predictable. And marrying Marcus, that was the ultimate in predictability. Did any one one of you think I would say no when he asked? Did it even cross your mind?”

“Of course not,” Emma said. “Because you were in love with him.”

“But I wasn’t! Just like I don’t love this stupid restaurant. It’s just… here. And I’m used to it. What other things in my life are here because they’re comfortable?”

Sonya blew out an exasperated breath just as the waiter came. “Blueberry pancakes,” she said. “With whipped cream. Oh! And bring me a mimosa, please. With whipped cream in that too.”

The waiter scrunched his nose. “Um, we don’t usually—”

Sonya cocked her head and whatever he saw on her face shut him up. He nodded and left.

Dani linked her arm through Cat’s and whispered. “What the hell is happening?”

“Sonya,” Emma said, “you can’t blame what happened between you and Marcus on some personality flaw you just now decided that you have. Being you has worked out pretty damn well so far. You’re successful and you’ll be happy again. Don’t let this send you down a spiral where you start doubting everything.”

“You know what they say about doing the same thing and expecting a different result, Em.”

“So what is the result you want?”

“And what is it you want to stop doing?” Cat added.

“I guess I’d just like to surprise someone once in a while. The other day, Trav recited how many mini-candy bars I ate per day. Apparently it’s the exact same number. Every. Day.”

Three blank faces stared back at her. “What?”

“Trav…” Cat said.

“My intern.”

“Oh, we know.”

“Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Is this what this is about? He’s getting under your skin, Sonya,” Emma said. “This is what you were afraid would happen.”

Sonya shook her head, surprised at the way things felt completely different since the last time she’d mentioned his name in front of her friends. “Actually, it’s not really like that,” she said. “We’ve called a bit of a truce.”

Dani’s mouth twisted mischievously. “A truce?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that either.”

Cat leaned forward, studying her. “So what is it like?”

“We’re sort of friends, I guess. This isn’t about Trav, it’s about me. I feel like I need to shake things up. Step out of my comfort zone a little.”

“Okay,” Emma said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then let’s start small. Pick one thing from your usual routine and scratch it off the list for this week. Then replace it with something totally out of character. Something you’d never consider doing on a weeknight.”

Sonya thought. “I have actually been thinking about redecorating my living room.”

Dani laughed. “Don’t go crazy, now.”

“No, I’m serious. It’s not like Marcus was there that much, but he was with me when I picked out my sofa and some of the art on the walls. Maybe it could be like a new slate. This preceptorship has shaken up my work environment. Maybe I need to make all of the spaces in my life different.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Emma said, but Sonya heard a little too much excitement in that innocuous statement. Emma’s house looked like a Pottery Barn catalog and, though she loved her to pieces, their styles didn’t exactly match.

“I think I need to do this alone, Em.” Her friend’s face fell. “But if I run into any problems, you’re the first one I’ll call.”

* * *

With a perfectly-curated Pinterest board digitally in hand, Sonya entered the showroom of Century Furniture as a light drizzle began to fall outside. She brushed the water off her coat and did a scan of the room. Her belly fluttered with excitement and nerves as she noted all of the choices. Did she have enough notes and inspiration pictures?

She pulled up her camera roll. Had she taken enough pictures of her current space to get a visual on how the new items would look? Shoot. Maybe she should make a binder—

Ugh. No.

Wasn’t she just lamenting her inability to surprise herself and nearly everyone else? She was going to approach this task in a new way. Go with her gut.

She wanted to replace the beige sectional in her living room with something more colorful, so she focused on the corner beside the window where the new one would go, memorizing the scene.

Nodding to herself, she pocketed her phone and took a deep breath, waiting for some sort of feeling to strike her and tell her which direction to head.

Nothing.

She blinked a few times, then focused harder.

Hello? Gut? Help me out here.

Okay, maybe she should start with a smaller question, something easier for her non-intellectual anatomy to choose. “Any thoughts on a color scheme, at least?”

“You know, talking to yourself is a sign of mental illness.”

She spun around, hand flat to her chest in surprise. Oh my God. She was kidding at the gym when she’d asked Trav if he was stalking her, but was he?

“Jeez. You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Uh, shopping?” He shrugged. “My dad recently reminded me that the lack of furniture in my place was an embarrassment to him. And I’m getting tired of sitting on boxes to watch my TV.” He scratched at the scruff on his chin. “Which is also set on boxes at the moment.”

“You’re looking for a couch?”

The corner of his mouth hitched up in amusement. Why she sounded so surprised given that they were in a furniture store was beyond her.

I guess,” he said. “Or maybe a couple of chairs. I haven’t decided.”

She held off an eye-roll at his lack of preparation for the task at hand, but warmth wrapped over her shoulders and down her arms. Relief, she realized.

She looked him up and down—hair a mess that was obviously intentional since it had withstood the current weather, and a t-shirt from a band she was pretty sure he hadn’t seen in person, since they’d been dead longer than he’d been alive. He looked like a college kid home on break. This was not the look of a man who came armed with a Pinterest board. No, this was the look of a man who needed a little direction.

And that was perfect. She could help him as a sort of practice run before she had to make any big decisions for herself, observe the natural habits of the ultimate fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants guy and maybe get a feel for how all of that winging it played out. You know, for other people.

“I’ll help you,” she said, trying to hide her excitement at this little science experiment of sorts.

He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and leaned back on his heels. “Aren’t you here shopping for yourself? I don’t want to take up your time.”

“I am, but I have time.”

“Well, I can help you after.”

She chuckled. “Um, no thanks.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow. Missile landed.”

Her cheeks burned. She didn’t mean for that to come off as rude as it sounded, but seriously, no. She was content with baby steps, and letting Trav pick out her furniture was more like a giant leap off of a cliff. Besides, she’d told Emma no because she really did want to channel whatever it was inside her that was clawing at her own routines. She didn’t want anyone else’s fingerprints on this project. This was Sonya.

“It’s just that I’m not sure I have everything I need,” she half-lied. “I was just going to look.”

“Everything you need like money?”

“No. Of course not. I wouldn’t be here at all if my finances didn’t allow for—” He was chuckling now. This time she let the eye-roll free. “What, Trav?”

“You’re cute when you’re defending adulting.” His eyes went wide, and she felt her cheeks burn. “Sorry. That was inappropriate, right?”

Maybe so, but she sure did like it. “It’s fine. So would you like some help, or not?”

“Single guy who’s been living in barracks for over a decade? Yeah, I think I’ll accept.”

* * *

Trav crossed his legs and laced his fingers behind his head. “This one feels good,” he said. They’d all felt good in his opinion, but just like the three before this, Sonya had a litany of tests to perform.

She stood with her hands on her hips, looking down at him stretched out on the mattress. “Roll over on your side,” she said.

He took the order and tucked an elbow under his head, bringing his knees closer to his chest.

She still looked unconvinced. “Is that how you sleep? All… compact?”

He chuckled. “Couldn’t fit a California King in my tent, so yeah. It became a habit.”

“Today’s about breaking habits.” She tapped the back of his knee, and he stretched out his legs. Then she walked around to the other side of the bed, still inspecting. “Are you a side sleeper? Even when you’ve got the room?”

He thought about that and honestly couldn’t remember. It had been a long time since he had the room, and if it happened to be a night that involved someone else’s bed, he didn’t spend enough of it sleeping to have a preference. Not that he had any recent memories there either. Okay, this was getting sad.

Testing it out, he completed the revolution, landing on his belly. His chin instinctively tucked into his shoulder and he breathed out a sigh. Probably testing mattresses would have been a better idea early in the morning when he wasn’t bone tired from class.

“I think I really like this one,” he slurred, sounding half drunk. His eyes slipped closed and despite the fluorescent lighting and ambient sound, his body demanded rest.

Until a soft dip in the mattress beside him had him popping one lid back open. Sonya climbed toward him on her hands and knees, and his brain was far too weary to fight all of the images that came with that.

He swallowed hard, his body stick straight as she settled beside him.

“I’m a back sleeper,” she said. She settled her head onto the pillow, casually draping her braids over her shoulder in a move that looked well-practiced. “It’s important to figure out what you like because mattresses are made to accommodate different positions.”

What did she just say? If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that was intentionally sexual. But he did know better, and the realization that she was dead serious about mattress facts, to the point of missing blatant innuendo, made him grin from ear to ear.

Goddamn she was cute. And sexy as hell in her jeans and t-shirt, lying peacefully with her palms up on the mattress beside her. Beside him.

She rolled to her side until they were face to face, and she smiled at him for a good thirty seconds before speaking. “This is a place I’d like to spend some time.”

His breath caught in his throat and he had to talk himself down.

She doesn’t mean with you, asshole.

She seemed completely clueless as to how any of the things she was saying could be taken by a man lying next to her.

She made a sleepy sound and it went straight to his groin. He swallowed again. What was it he’d said to Mike? This was some sort of past life punishment? He was sure of it now.

Though, her hatred toward him had dimmed to a mild annoyance over the last few weeks. They’d become friends, which, looking at her now, might be worse torture than the animosity they’d started with.

These days she smiled more frequently at him and they, apparently, shopped for furniture together. He watched her press her fingers into the pillow-top and thought, not for the first time, that she was made of perfect contradictions. Nerdy and sexy. Fierce but kind. Soft curves and athletic limbs…

“Do you want to try another position?” she said.

Jesus. Okay, he was out. He sat up quickly, running a hand through his hair.

Sonya raised an eyebrow. “Or we can start over with another bed.”

“No,” he almost shouted. How about we not climb into another bed together in this public space? “Uh. This one’s good. I like this one.”

“Perfect,” she said, rolling gracefully off of the mattress and straightening her shirt.

Perfect indeed.

She tossed a smile over her shoulder that looked completely unaffected, and she headed toward the showroom. “On to the living room.”