Katie was just getting ready to leave when two men walked into the cafe. She was about to pack her laptop into her bag, but something about them made her stop—and yeah, it was probably because they were both gorgeous: tall, blue-eyed, and dressed very well, one in a three-piece suit and the other in fancy dress, like someone out of a war film.
I don't have anything to be late for, she reasoned to herself as she surreptitiously took the laptop out again and pretended as if she'd forgotten to do something. But no one was paying attention. It was crowded enough, and the barista was already taking the men's orders.
She opened another tab as the men took a seat—only two tables away from her—and began typing an email to her sister. She really did need to write it. Emily was visiting in only two days, and since Katie and her family were currently living with her parents, there was a lot to tell her sister about.
I probably shouldn't have let John alone with them and the boys, she thought ruefully. Too late now. John was brave enough to fight fires; he could handle his in-laws alone for a few hours.
The men were talking. As she'd been writing, Katie had missed the beginning of the conversation. Without making it seem like she was paying attention—she hadn't ever been the best gossip, but she was passable—she began to listen.
"How about that holiday, then?" the older one in fancy dress was saying.
"Holiday?" The one in the suit scoffed. "When d'you think I'd be able to go on holiday?"
"Next weekend?" —he was American— "You'd be able to get away for a few days."
"Yeah?" —a Welshman— "And what about… work?"
"It will survive without you for a few days."
A short laugh. "All the same, I think I'll stay in Cardiff."
Friends, Katie thought. Coworkers, maybe. The idea of not being able to go on holiday, not even for a few days, didn't seem pleasant at all. I'm glad I get to make my own hours.
She added a few more words to the email, about her new website design business and that the house she and John wanted to buy would become affordable with the extra salary. She paused then, searching for words.
The American continued. "What's keeping you here?"
"Just the usual things." Katie saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye. "Work, mostly, no matter what you say. But you know that!"
The American nodded, took a sip of what she assumed was coffee, and nodded. "Alright, but in case you change your mind, your boss has given you express permission to take a few days off."
Friends through work, then, Katie decided; the American had talked as if they had different bosses. Who, though? The Welshman was dressed too professionally not to have come directly from work.
He laughed. "I'll be sure to properly thank him later."
"Or you can take him up on the offer of a break." He drank some more. "You wouldn't want to hurt his feelings. And I like him."
Another laugh, this one slightly louder than the first, then just a smile. "I like him, too."
"Oh, I know you do."
Katie's eyes darted over to the clean-cut Welshman and the leering American. It wasn't often that she spied on her fellow cafe-goers, but she couldn't help it. It had sounded like… Definitely friends through work. Close friends, given the teasing. Katie quickly looked away, once again happy that she was her own boss. It must be hard to have a crush on your boss.
"Not bad," the Welshman was saying, putting down his drink; Katie had gotten distracted again.
"Yeah, but not a touch on yours."
Must be a secretary, then, Katie decided. She tried not to dwell on the cliche of a secretary being romantically interested in the boss, instead focusing on the young man himself. Judging by his clothes and the way he held himself, he clearly valued his appearance; people in higher positions, in her experience, were a bit more lax with what they looked like, having already achieved prestige.
Like the American next to him. He sat with an easy confidence—almost arrogance, if it wasn't for the kind look in his eyes—and Katie looked away. She didn't look back from her laptop screen, this time, not wanting to be caught staring like she almost just had been.
The American put his cup down. "I'm going to get some more, you want any?"
"Are you sure?"
"As much as I'd like your coffee, we'd need to leave in order for you to make it. And we're still on our lunch break."
"I wasn't aware that we got lunch breaks."
"You've been on one for the past thirty minutes. And the fact that we always spend them inside doesn't mean that we don't have them." She heard his chair scrape the ground as he stood up. "Revel in our first lunch break together. Outside. Now… more coffee?"
"Yes, please."
"Good."
She heard him walk away; his boots were heavy and his outfit was far from inconspicuous, but she still didn't look. She didn't want to get caught. She typed to Emily: I hope you're having a good time in Italy. Seeing mum and dad should put a slight damper on the joys of vacation (you know how they are), but they're not so bad once you get used to it. John and the kids are having fun, I think, no matter how intense they can be sometimes.
Katie didn't hear the American come back from the counter, so she continued writing.
I know I mentioned it before, but I'm really excited about the new house. We've been staying with mum and dad, but I'm just happy the gas explosion in the old neighborhood didn't affect our stuff. We'll be able to move right in once we buy it.
But there he was now. Katie heard his boots, the chair, and the clink of two cups on the tabletop, then the Welshman's soft thanks, and the sound of their drinking..
One of the mugs was placed back onto the table, and the American said, "Who was that?"
"Oh, this?" Katie chanced a look. The Welshman was gesturing to his phone, before continuing to talk. "Insurance agency. Wondering about the latest payment for Myfanwy."
"You paid it, right?"
"Yeah, they were just nosing about as usual." There was a pause, and it seemed as though he was rolling his eyes. "You know how eager they are to see exactly how exotic she is."
"They'll never find out exactly how exotic she is."
"Exactly! So I just dodged the questions as usual—"
"Which you're amazing at."
"Thank you—"
"As well as at everything else." Katie glanced at them, unable to resist it; the American was grinning over the top of his cup, while the Welshman was rolling his eyes. "Myfanwy does deserve the best. She may be an… exotic pet, but she's our exotic pet."
"No one else can have such an exotic pet."
The American laughed again.
Katie ducked her head. The more she heard the laugh, the more uncomfortable she became, and not because she was eavesdropping. It felt like she'd heard it before, somehow, and hearing it again felt… odd.
"Y'know… I never expected you to keep Myfanwy," the Welshman said thoughtfully. "They never would have kept her in London. Maybe to study her, but not… I'm happy you did."
"I know what she felt like," the American replied, something sad in his voice that Katie didn't understand. "I would never do that to anyone. Would you… would you have—"
"No," the Welshman said immediately. "I would have gotten her out the moment I thought anything would happen to her."
The American gave a relieved laugh. "Good."
There was more drinking. Katie wanted more coffee, too, since she didn't know how much longer she'd stay in the cafe. She'd stay a little longer than the men, she thought, and she would have to finish the email.
She hadn't seen Emily for several months, and a lot had happened. While the men's words descended into whispers and it was too awkward to keep listening, Katie made herself comfortable and kept writing. She'd spoken with Emily two weeks ago, but she hadn't focused on the details, having been too shocked to do so at the time.
Of course, it wasn't every day that part of her neighborhood exploded under suspicious circumstances. She still didn't fully remember the evening—John, who was a firefighter and worked with the city a lot, said it happened often after such a severe shock; he couldn't remember it, either.
Katie wrote as much to Emily, and was shocked into sending the email when the American started talking loudly again.
"—like something out of a movie!"
"Yeah, out of a romantic comedy." The Welshman put down his coffee. "Ridiculous and overdramatic—"
"But fun and memorable."
Katie muffled a laugh into her hand. Their banter flowed so easily, and she wondered what exactly their job was to bring them so close together. She'd certainly never been so close with a coworker. Perhaps they were friends first and coworkers second: they finished each other's sentences and laughed together, and easily teased each other.
"But, really, Ianto, you should go on holiday," the American said, returning to their first topic. "Look, I'll even come with you!"
The Welshman—Ianto—laughed, but Katie noticed some other feeling lurking behind the laughter; something other than amusement, perhaps even sadness or regret. "That's ridiculous, Jack. We can't both leave!"
"And why not?"
"Who'd you leave in charge, Owen? Gwen? Well… Tosh, obviously, but I don't think she'd like that."
Katie stopped typing. Was Jack his boss? It didn't make sense, not really, that they were joking and seemed so close—in her experience, bosses didn't generally walk around with their secretaries and talk about personal lives—and it made even less sense if Ianto did, in fact, like him romantically.
"All of them, and have us on call, if you're so worried." Jack leaned across the table; Katie was watching out of the corner of her eye now, and not even trying to look away, having just finished her email. "I'd prefer it if we could just leave, of course, but I get it—"
"Are you sure?" Ianto's face was scrunched up in a frown. "What if—"
"What if not?"
A sigh. He thought for a moment. And thought for a moment more. Katie wasn't sure if he'd answer, but when he did, he looked less worried. "Are you sure we can?"
"Yes." Jack nodded.
Katie watched him take Ianto's hand. She turned away. They were in public, yes, but the conversation seemed so personal and she felt guilty for listening.
"Alright," Ianto said. "Where—"
"There's this cottage…"
Katie closed her laptop quietly. If she left now, it wouldn't look suspicious. She had no reason to stay, now, not when she'd sent the email and finished her coffee. She was intruding and felt awkward and uncomfortable now—not only because of the odd feeling of deja vu at seeing the men—but because of the intrusion.
She tucked her laptop into her bag and ducked her head as she passed their table.