Free Medium in Paradise: A Humorous Paradise Romance by Tabby Moray Page B

babe. Can you pick me up from the airport on Friday?” Anthony asked once she ferreted her cell phone out of her purse.
    “I thought you weren’t going to be finished until late next week.” She resolutely tossed a handful of almonds in her mouth, trying to avoid the temptation of the chocolate-filled croissant calling her name from inside a gleaming display case.
    “Me, too. But everything got wrapped up quicker than any of us thought. I’m glad, too. I miss you, Dina”
    “Sure, I’ll pick you up,” she said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
    “You still mad about that whole Ayako thing?”
    “I think I’m just trying to figure out what we’re doing here, Anthony.”
    “We’re enjoying each other’s company, babe--,”
    “I’m not so sure about that anymore…”
    “What do you mean?” He sounded alarmed.
    “I mean, when you get back here, we need to have a serious talk.”
    “Oh God,” he groaned, tiredly. “Again?”
    “Yes. Again. We need to sort all of this out and decide what each of us wants once and for all. That way we can either move forward or move apart.” Dina was distracted by the door opening, Detective Barney Nichols easing his way inside. His hair was damp, droplets of rain sparkling in the strands like diamonds on velvet. His eyes quickly surveyed the room, finally falling on her with a slight frown
    “Did the ‘spirits’ guide you to this conclusion?” he scoffed, lightly.
    “No, they didn’t,” she replied, stiffly. His casual disrespect toward her paranormal gift, something she’d shared with him during a moment of intimacy, grated on her nerves, infuriating her.
    “I know what I want, Dina,” he said, his voice firm. “You just want to reach the finish line too fast.”
    “Not too fast, Anthony,” she retorted sharply. “The problem with you is that you’re fine with never reaching it at all.”
    “That’s not true--,”
    “It is.” It was an old argument and one which wouldn’t be resolved in this conversation. “We’ll talk about this when you get back. I’ll see you on Friday.”
    “Eight forty-five.”
    “What?”
    “Eight forty-five. What’s got you distracted all of a sudden?” he asked, teasingly.
    “A cop,” she muttered, absent-mindedly. “I’ll see you on Friday.” She hung up over his protests, unknowing and uncaring of what his last words were.
    Detective Barney Nichols ambled his way in her direction, a tentative expression on his face. He was stopped by an older man wearing a cowboy hat. They chatted for a few moments before he made it the rest of the way to her table. He stood looking down at her without saying a word.
    They stared at each other, each waiting for the other to break the silence. Conversation from those sitting and waiting patiently near the counter, swirled around them. But still neither of them spoke. His energy flowed towards her and she didn’t need to be an empath to know what he was thinking. He was attracted to her, but didn’t trust her. He thought she was a little crazy because she spoke to people that weren’t there. Hell, for many years she’d thought the same thing herself. But she was done with that. She was who she was and she wasn’t going to be ashamed of it anymore.
    “I speak to the dead, Detective,” she blurted out, breaking the silence. She crossed her arms, waiting for the inevitable wash of emotions to play themselves across his features like a silent film. It always started the same.
    First there was disbelief…
    “What?” He inclined his head towards her as though he weren’t certain he’d heard her correctly.
    “I’m a Medium, Detective,” she said, patiently, studying his face. “I can commune with the dead. I have ever since I was very young.”
    Then there was shock…
    “A Medium?” He cleared his throat, straightened up to his full height, then narrowed his eyes, giving her a hard stare. The barista called her name and she calmly got up, picked up her expresso and