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annewithaneofthegreengable · 1 month ago

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Summer Serendipity

Summary: It was the summer break between the races, and Oscar suddenly came across a travel magazine about a quiet town in Northern Ireland on the work desk of someone who had left it open when he was visiting McLaren’s HQ in Woking. Next thing, he was on his way to Belfast, with nothing much on his mind, no worries about the championship standings, the braking mode, the corners or chicanes,... Nothing, just him and his summer getaway in Belfast.

Meanwhile, Edith Ezra, a devoted single mother working at a quaint cafe in Belfast, cherishes her two children, Ivy and Eddie, above all else. Having faced the heartbreak of their father's abandonment, Edith has built a life centred around providing for her family and creating a sense of stability for her children.

When Oscar's path crosses with Edith's in Belfast, their worlds collide in unexpected ways. As Oscar finds himself drawn to the warmth and genuine kindness of Edith and her children, he begins to see a different side of life beyond the fast-paced world of racing.

A/N: I'm so so so so sorry I forgot to add the taglist in the last post!

The date had gone by in a warm, candlelit blur.

Oscar had chosen a little bistro tucked beside the river, lowlights, old music playing from speakers that occasionally crackled like they had stories of their own, and a menu handwritten in looping cursive. They’d shared a plate of something neither of them could pronounce, laughed until her cheeks hurt, and talked about everything from school lunches to the smell of racetracks.

Well. Not quite everything.

He hadn’t brought it up again, the whole being-famous thing. And she hadn’t pressed. Not over the clink of wine glasses or the way he’d leaned in every time she spoke like she was saying something precious. The moment had been too gentle, too full of something new, to fill it with questions.

But she hadn’t forgotten.

Now, back at the flat, the night hummed with quiet. Ivy and Eddie had waited up, of course, and were now pretending to be asleep on the couch, faces squished into pillows, limbs arranged far too neatly to be natural.

“They were out cold at nine,” Angie whispered as she tiptoed toward the door. “But five minutes ago Ivy told me about an episode from Bluey so I don’t trust them.”

Luke was already halfway down the stairs, muttering something about updating his fantasy league predictions now that “McLaren Piastri” had officially entered the group chat of his life.

Edith just stood in the hallway for a moment, still clutching the little brown paper wrap from Oscar’s flowers, not ready to let the evening go yet.

She turned and found him still standing by the door, hands in his pockets, that familiar quiet smile on his face, like he was content to just exist in the air around her.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” she asked, soft.

He nodded once. “I’d like that.”

She led him into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. It was instinct at this point, no matter the hour, tea followed her home like a shadow. She glanced at him as she reached for the mugs.

“Ivy and Eddie are absolutely going to fake-sleep until they think you’ve left.”

Oscar laughed under his breath. “Should I wave goodnight to them and pretend I’m leaving, Mission: Impossible style?”

She smirked. “You’d win them for life.”

They stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to hiss. The soft amber light above the sink made everything feel smaller, cozier. Quieter. Like this moment was wrapped in a bubble.

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly serious. “Can I tell you something?”

Edith looked up. “Of course.”

He took a breath, and for a second, she saw the same nerves that had danced behind his eyes on their walk over.

“I should’ve told you earlier. About what I do. Who I am.” He paused. “It’s not that I was trying to lie or pretend to be someone I’m not. I just… didn’t want that to be the first thing you knew about me.”

She nodded slowly, waiting.

“I drive in Formula 1,” he said quietly. “For McLaren.”

There it was. Said out loud this time. Not whispered at her doorstep or hinted at in the space between jokes.

“I figured that much out after Luke nearly fainted,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Oscar chuckled, but his expression stayed gentle. “I like you, Edith. And I didn’t want… that part of my life to get in the way. Or change how you saw me.”

Edith looked at him for a long moment. He wasn’t just talking about being famous. He was talking about being seen, the parts of him that lived between travel and pressure and headlines. The parts that came alive not behind a wheel, but across a café table from someone who asked about his favourite book, not his last lap time.

“I’m glad you told me,” she said, stepping closer. “And for the record, I saw you first. The one who listens when Ivy talks about mermaid kingdoms. The one who helps Eddie put syrup on pancakes without making a mess. That’s who I said yes to.”

Oscar swallowed, just once. “That’s the part I wanted you to like.”

“I do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Very much.”

The kettle clicked off.

Before she could move, a sleepy voice called from the hallway, “Muuum?”

They both turned.

Ivy stood there, hair sticking up wildly, clutching her blanket like a weary queen.

“Did he kiss you?” she mumbled.

Oscar turned absolutely scarlet.

Edith blinked, wide-eyed. “Ivy!”

“I just wanna know if it’s real,” Ivy said, completely serious. “Angie says she thinks it was.”

Oscar gave her a tiny wave, barely managing not to choke on his laugh.

“Yes,” Edith said with a sigh, cheeks warm. “He did.”

Ivy gave a satisfied nod. “Cool,” she said, then turned and padded back toward the couch.

There was a long beat of silence before Oscar said, “So... that’s your approval committee.”

“That’s not all the members from the committee but I don’t make the rules,” Edith whispered, shaking her head.

He looked at her then, eyes full of something she wasn’t ready to name yet, but wanted to keep reaching for.

“I should go,” he said, but it wasn’t a goodbye. Not really.

She walked him to the door, and just before he stepped out into the quiet street, he turned.

“I’m not great at all this,” he said. “The talking part. The vulnerable part.”

“You’re doing fine,” she said. “Really.”

He hesitated, then leaned in and kissed her, slow, sure, and a little longer than before. Not rushed. Not a question.

When they pulled apart, she whispered, “Walk safe, McLaren Boy.”

Oscar grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving behind only the softest echo of laughter and the faint scent of lilies on her kitchen counter.

---------------------------------------------------

Oscar stood in the dim glow of his rented bathroom, brushing his teeth like a man who had just survived something emotionally significant. The lilies he’d picked up, slightly lopsided and vaguely crushed from being clutched too tightly on the walk, were still etched in his memory like a photograph. So was the way Edith had smiled at him. The kiss. The kids. All of it.

He spat, rinsed, stared at himself in the mirror.

“Okay,” he told his reflection. “You didn’t screw it up.”

Mostly.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. A little after midnight. He dried his hands and picked it up, expecting nothing. But it was a text from her

[TEXT FROM EDITH]Safe back to your place?Also: I think the committee approved you. Just a heads up.

He laughed aloud, thumb already moving before his brain caught up.

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]Made it. And thank them for me. I was worried no one had started drafting the seating chart.Tonight was… really good.

A minute passed. Then her reply:

[TEXT FROM EDITH]Yeah. It really was.

He smiled at the screen like an idiot. Then dropped the phone onto the bed, paused, and immediately picked it back up.

Time to text the other person who had way too much investment in this entire situation.

[OSCAR → LANDO]So, she found out.

Three dots appeared immediately.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]About what? That you like crab sandwiches more than most humans?Or that you’re a literal international athlete pretending to be a mysterious bloke from the café around the corner?

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]The second one.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]OH MY GOD FINALLY What’d she say? Did she throw something at you?

Oscar rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]No. She said she saw me first. Not the driver. That she liked me anyway.

There was a brief pause. Then:

[TEXT FROM LANDO]Okay That’s… actually really nice Ugh. Gross. Feelings.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]Did she kiss you?

Oscar hesitated, then sent:

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]Yes.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]More than once?

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]I’m not answering that.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]That’s a yes You soft little pancake

Oscar laughed, leaning back against the pillows.

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]It’s different with her. I don’t feel like I’m being watched. Or judged. I feel... still.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]Wow. Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my teammate?

[TEXT FROM LANDO]Seriously, though. That sounds good. I’m happy for you, mate.

Oscar stared at the message for a long time. The flat was quiet around him. The lights outside the window blinked across the skyline. And for once, he wasn’t counting laps or corners. He was just... sitting with it.

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]Yeah. Me too.

He silenced the phone and placed it face-down on the nightstand. Then he let out a quiet breath, ran a hand through his hair, and turned out the light.

In the dark, his mind flicked through the night like a slideshow, Edith in that blue dress, laughing with her eyes crinkling at the corners. The kids. The committee. Her saying she liked him anyway.

---------------------------------------------------

Sunday mornings in the flat usually smelled like maple syrup and felt like slightly controlled chaos.

Edith had barely tied her hair up when Ivy came bounding into the kitchen wearing mismatched socks and a pair of sunglasses that had definitely been pilfered from the lost-and-found basket at the café.

“Mum,” she said with the seriousness of a detective mid-investigation. “We have questions.”

Eddie followed behind her, dragging his stuffed polar bear, his mouth already stained faintly with jam. “Very important questions.”

Edith raised an eyebrow as she flipped the pancake on the skillet. “If this is about how many syrup bottles we can use at once, the answer is one.”

“Nope,” Ivy said, plopping into a chair. “It’s about Oscar.”

Edith blinked. “Oscar?”

“He’s on the internet,” Ivy announced, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper with what looked like printed screenshots. “Like, a lot. There’s videos. Of him driving. Really fast.”

Eddie nodded gravely. “Faster than that scary taxi we took last winter.”

“You Googled him?”

“Auntie Angie did it because we wanted to know if he was famous-famous like uncle Luke said” Ivy said. “Turns out? Super famous.”

Eddie held up one finger. “There’s a picture of him on a podium holding a trophy. And another one with a fireproof suit. Like a superhero!”

Before Edith could respond, the buzzer rang.

She froze, spatula in hand, and tried to hide the immediate smile that rose to her lips. “That’s probably him.”

Ivy and Eddie squealed like puppies and bolted down the hall before she could stop them. She heard Ivy shout, “WE HAVE QUESTIONS!” through the intercom.

By the time Edith opened the door, Oscar was standing there with a bakery bag in one hand and an expression that said he’d been greeted more gently by the Monaco press.

“Good morning,” he said cautiously. “I bought croissants and also fear.”

Edith bit back a laugh. “They found Google, didn’t they?”

“Oh, they found Google,” Oscar said, stepping inside. “I think I’ve been fact-checked.”

Ivy immediately grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the couch. “Why didn’t you tell us you were a race car driver?!”

“I didn’t want to make it weird,” Oscar said, letting himself be pulled.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a fireproof suit?”

“Technically I have five,” Oscar said, sitting down.

The twins gasped.

“Can we wear them?”

“No.”

“Can you drive us in a race car?”

“No.”

“Can you name a race car after us?”

Oscar smiled. “I’ll consider it.”

Edith stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the scene unfold. There was something so strange, and lovely, about watching someone like Oscar, someone who spent his life in roaring engines and press rooms, sit here calmly answering questions about whether Formula 1 cars had cup holders.

He wasn’t performing. He wasn’t showing off. He was just in it, open, real, and somehow still a little shy, even as Ivy tried to convince him to autograph a cereal box.

When she finally stepped in with a plate of pancakes, Oscar looked up at her with quiet gratitude, like he wasn’t just grateful for breakfast, but for the whole morning.

“Coffee?” she asked, setting the plate down beside him.

“Always,” he said.

Ivy leaned into him dramatically. “You’re famous-famous and you drink coffee. You’re basically a grown-up.”

Oscar grinned. “Don’t tell anyone.”

As the kettle whistled and the twins argued about whether “Team Oscar” sounded better than “Team Pancake,” Edith felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.

It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves.

It was ease.

And watching Oscar laugh, head tilted back, cheeks slightly flushed, as Eddie tried to feed him a bite of syrup-drenched waffle, she realized something:

Maybe he didn’t just fit into this little life of theirs.

Maybe, just maybe, he belonged.

The sun was dipping low, the kind of late-summer evening that made everything feel softer. The flat smelled like shampoo and the lingering sweetness of strawberry ice cream. The twins had collapsed into a post-playdate heap on the couch after watching two full episodes of Bluey, giggling until they were sleepy-eyed and tangled in the same blanket.

Oscar helped Edith gather up the toys and stuffed animals scattered across the living room floor. Eddie's polar bear had ended up half under the kitchen table again. Oscar retrieved it without question, like it had become part of his unofficial duties.

“Do they ever stop moving?” he asked with a laugh, tossing the bear back onto the couch.

“No,” Edith replied, smiling as she flicked off the TV. “They just recharge for twenty minutes, then start again.”

She moved toward the kitchen, rinsing two tiny bowls in the sink, her motions automatic, practiced. Oscar stood nearby, leaning against the counter, watching her with quiet admiration.

“They like you,” she said over the running water. “A lot.”

“I like them too,” he said. “I mean, they’re chaos. But they’re... really good chaos.”

There was a brief silence, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable, just waiting for one of them to push through it.

Edith dried her hands on a towel and glanced his way. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you doing all this?” Her voice was soft. Not accusing, just... uncertain. “The pancakes, the park trips, watching Bluey three times in a row?”

Oscar shifted his weight, unsure how to say it out loud. “Because I want to. Because I want to be around you.”

She looked down, then up again. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m not,” he said, more firmly this time. “I just... I like this. I like you. I like them. I like how it all feels when I’m here.”

Edith studied him for a second, and then stepped back, leaning against the other side of the counter. She crossed her arms lightly, more for warmth than defense.

“Their dad left before they were born,” she said quietly. “Found out I was pregnant and decided he wasn’t ready. Or didn’t want to be ready. I haven’t seen him since.”

Oscar didn’t say anything right away. He knew not to rush the silence.

“They’re turning five in November,” she added. “And not once have they asked why he’s not around. I don’t know if that’s good or sad.”

“It’s not sad,” he said. “They have you. And... maybe they’ll have someone else too. If you let me keep being part of this.”

She looked at him, a mix of something careful and something hopeful in her expression. “You’re younger than me, you know.”

“Only barely.”

“Still, it’s 3 years apart.”

“Still doesn’t bother me.”

Another pause. Softer now.

Oscar scratched the back of his neck, suddenly nervous in a way that surprised even him. “I’ve been trying to say something, actually. But it feels kind of... too big? And also not enough? And also maybe I’m going to totally mess it up.”

Edith tilted her head slightly. “What is it?”

“I think I’m…” he started, then stopped.

She waited, patient.

“I think I’m on my way to being really... I mean, I already did…” He sighed. “I really, really like you. And it’s kind of past the like part. But I don’t want to make it weird or scare you or,”

Edith stepped closer, reached out, and touched his hand gently.

“Say it,” she whispered. “If you want to.”

Oscar looked down at their hands, then up into her eyes.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said. “Actually, I think I already have.”

She didn’t speak right away. Just smiled, soft and full of something deep and steady. Then she leaned up and kissed him, slow, deliberate, full of promise.

“I’m glad,” she said against his lips. “Because I think I’m falling too.”

From the couch, a sleepy voice broke the silence.

“Are you kissing again?” Eddie mumbled.

Oscar laughed, forehead resting gently against Edith’s. “Definitely part of the chaos.”

That evening the flat smelled like garlic, roasted vegetables, and something vaguely burnt that Oscar insisted was “intentionally crispy.” Edith was fairly certain it wasn’t, but she let him have it. He was too proud of his tray of “race-day roast potatoes” to argue with.

Luke had already poured himself a glass of wine before sitting down. Angie brought a stack of homemade brownies she swore she “barely burnt this time,” and the twins were already deep in a heated debate about what is the best episode of Bluey.

Oscar helped Edith set the table, brushing her arm gently as he passed her the forks. It was the kind of domestic rhythm that felt natural, like something they’d done a hundred times. And maybe, Edith thought, they would do it a hundred more.

Luke took a bite of potato, paused, and gave Oscar a skeptical nod. “Alright, McLaren. Not bad.”

“I’ve been trained by the best,” Oscar said, glancing at Edith.

“You cooked with me once and used three full cloves of garlic,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“And they were delicious cloves.”

Angie smirked into her wine glass. “Honestly, it’s a miracle none of this has gone viral yet. Race car driver makes Sunday dinner and survives.”

Luke leaned in, elbows on the table. “So, has anyone stopped you on the street yet, Oscar? Any selfie requests outside the café?”

Oscar shook his head, sheepish. “I’ve had a pretty good disguise so far: not wearing the fireproof suit.”

Ivy perked up from her seat. “Can I wear the fireproof suit?”

“Not yet, maybe when you are older,” Oscar said gently, “but I can get you a hat.”

Eddie gasped. “A racing hat?”

“Even better,” Oscar said. “An official one.”

Luke narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “Alright, Piastri. Since the kids are getting merch, I’m going to ask: when will you leave for the next race?”

Oscar wiped his hands on a napkin. “Actually... that’s kind of what I wanted to bring up.”

Everyone turned to look at him, Edith, Luke, Angie, and the two suddenly-wide-awake twins.

“I was thinking,” he said slowly, “if you’re all up for it... maybe you could come to the next Grand Prix. As my guests.”

Silence.

Then a collective explosion.

“Wait! seriously?” Angie nearly dropped her wine glass.

“You mean actual paddock passes?” Luke asked, eyes gleaming like he’d just been gifted a rare Pokémon card.

“Pit lane? Garage tour? Hospitality?”

Oscar shrugged like it was nothing, but he was already grinning. “I mean, yeah. If you want. I can get you passes, flights, everything.”

Ivy clapped her hands. “Do we get to wear matching outfits?!”

Eddie looked equally thrilled. “Do we get snacks?”

“Absolutely to both,” Oscar said. “I can promise you’ll love the track food.”

“Can we meet other drivers too, please say yes Oscar!” Luke said with heart-eyes literally.

“I’ll see if I can pull some strings but yes.”

Edith was staring at him now, not with surprise, not exactly, but with something warmer. Something quieter.

“You’d really do all that?” she asked softly.

Oscar glanced at her, a little nervous now. “Yeah. I mean... It's a big part of my life. And you’re all a big part of my life now too. So it feels right.”

Luke let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s one way to say I love you in group form.”

Oscar flushed. “I already said that, actually.”

Edith reached for his hand under the table. “You did. And now you’re trying to prove it with hats and hospitality.”

Angie raised her glass. “To love, racing, and possibly matching team uniforms.”

“To chaos!” Ivy added.

“To yummy snacks!” Eddie shouted.

They all laughed, the kind of laughter that spills over into the night and sticks to the walls, the kind that makes a place feel like home.

Oscar glanced around the table, cheeks still slightly pink, heart full.

Instagram Posts: @/Edithlovesedit

Liked by @/Angiethebougie, @/Luckyluke and 268 people.

@/Edithlovesedit: How I love being a woman at night and on mom's duties in the morning.

view all comments

@/Luckyluke: I saw a MILF

-> @/Angiethebougie: how i want to be that MILF

-> @/Edithlovesedit: u wanna try?

-> @/oscarpiastri: a very hot MILF, indeed (this comment has been deleted)

-> @/Luckyluke: man got rizz?

-> @/Edithlovesedit: what is rizz??

-> @/Angiethebougie: Charisma, babe

-> @/Edithlovesedit: oh that he's got plenty of it 😚

@/lando: hi comittee 🙌🏻

-> @oscarpiastri: go away lando

-> @/lando: ouch

-> @/lando: guess u will have to ask ur sisters for the advice mr.piastri

@/user404: guys what is lando and oscar doing here?

@/user233: maybe old fr?

@/user2021: idk about u but this momma is so pretty and she is a baker too

@/user44: wait i think that's oscar in the pic?

-> @/user16: let get u back to bed grandma

-> @/user27: ur delulu hits hard, gurl

@/user372: are they twins?

-> @/Edithlovesedit: yes they are twins, the girl is a tad bit older

@/user198: oh I know her, she is the coffee shop's owner in my town... her cinnamon swirl is chefs kiss

-> @/user22: yes is it the bean & blossom, they are quite aesthetic

Taglist: @teamnovalak, @angelluv16, @frankiejo04, @manuztb, @httpsxnox@devilacot@maximuminfluencerstarlight@bee-the-loser, @taetae-armyyyyy @mynameisangeloflife

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 1 month ago

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Today is my birthday—yeah, it's my 22nd birthday—and guess what? My family forgot about it. Actually, it happened exactly one year ago, and no one seems to remember that it was the only day in my life I got to be happy for once. I thought it would be different this year, but I guess not. Guess I'm not that important in their lives.

#sad thoughts #welcome to my life #nothing to celebrate here #im used to it #matilda #Spotify

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 1 month ago

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Summer Serendipity

A/N: This chapter is rather long, so if you guys find this good, please comment/like/reblog! Thank you!!!

my masterlist

The week leading up to the trip felt like a celebration. Ivy and Eddie drew elaborate maps of their planned route and quizzed Oscar on which landmark he was most excited to see. Edith found herself smiling more, at work, at home, and especially whenever she caught Oscar’s eye. There was a new ease between them, a secret they both carried: the memory of that soft, sudden kiss beneath the streetlight, and the promise it held.

Saturday dawned bright and blue, as if the sky itself had decided to join in their plans. Oscar arrived at the café flat early, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a bag of pastries in hand. Edith greeted him at the door, her hair pulled back, cheeks flushed with anticipation. The twins were already in the hall, bouncing on their toes, clutching water bottles and stuffed animals.

They loaded Edith’s car with snacks, jackets, and an ancient tartan blanket. Oscar took the front passenger seat, armed with a playlist of songs Ivy and Eddie had chosen. The little car felt crowded and alive, the air buzzing with anticipation.

Their first stop was the Dark Hedges, a tunnel of ancient beech trees whose gnarled branches created a cathedral of shifting green light. Ivy and Eddie raced ahead, their voices echoing like birdsong, as Oscar and Edith walked together at a slower pace.

“It’s like Narnia,” Oscar whispered, awed.

“It’s our own bit of magic,” Edith replied, her voice soft. “I used to come here as a girl, make up stories about witches and lost kingdoms.”

Oscar watched Ivy twirl beneath the trees, her hair a halo in the sunlight, and Eddie brandishing a stick like a sword. He glanced at Edith, her eyes bright with memory, and took a photo, a rare candid of all four of them, the children between them, laughter frozen in the light.

Next was Carnlough Harbour, a postcard village of stone cottages and bobbing fishing boats. The twins delighted in feeding gulls and dipping their toes in the chilly salt water, while Edith led them to a tiny café for crab sandwiches and sweet tea.

She told stories of her childhood summers: chasing her brother along the quay, eating ice cream until her lips turned blue, believing the sea was the edge of the world. The children listened, wide-eyed, and Oscar found himself swept up in their wonder.

“You make it sound like paradise,” he murmured.

Edith’s smile was wistful. “It was, for a while.”

They wound their way further north, the sea glittering beside them, cliffs rising dramatic and wild. At Cushendun, they explored the caves carved into the rock, echoes magnifying the twins’ gleeful shouts. Oscar steadied Edith with a gentle hand as she navigated the slippery stones, their fingers lingering together in the cool darkness.

When they emerged, blinking into the sunlight, Edith’s cheeks were flushed, her laughter softer, more intimate. For a heartbeat, they simply looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, gratitude, affection, something unspoken and new.

Their last stop was The Giant’s Causeway, where black hexagonal stones tumbled into the roaring Atlantic. Ivy and Eddie leapt from column to column, fearless and free, while Oscar and Edith followed more cautiously, marveling at the ancient geometry beneath their feet.

They found a quiet spot for their picnic, the blanket spread across warm stone. They ate in companionable silence, the rhythm of the waves soothing as a lullaby. Edith told the legend of Finn McCool, the giant who built the causeway, her voice weaving magic for the twins and for Oscar, who listened with childlike wonder.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in gold and lavender, Oscar found himself wishing the day would never end.

On the drive home, the twins dozed in the back, their heads lolling together, Ivy clutching her hand-drawn map, Eddie’s toy car forgotten in his lap. The car hummed with the quiet contentment of a perfect day.

When they reached the café flat, Edith parked and turned to Oscar, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp. The children murmured sleepily as they climbed out, trailing upstairs with their blankets and treasures.

Oscar lingered on the pavement, suddenly shy. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

Edith stepped closer, her eyes searching for his. “Me neither.”

And then, with a courage born of happiness, she leaned in and pressed a gentle, unexpected kiss to his lips, a soft, fleeting peck. For a moment, they stood in perfect stillness, the city around them fading into silence. Slowly, she shied away after the peck but Oscar didn’t, he leaned in once more, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. Before he could second-guess, he deepened the kiss on her, the kind of kiss that says “I’m here, I want this, I want you.” Edith smiled against his lips, her hands tangled in his hair.

When they pulled back, her cheeks were pink, her smile shy but sure. “Goodnight, Oscar,” she whispered.

He smiled, heart hammering in his chest. “Goodnight, Edith.”

---------------------------------------------------

Oscar sat slouched on the edge of his bed in Belfast, his phone resting on his knee. He’d been staring at Lando’s name in his contacts for five full minutes, thumb hovering over the call button. Finally, with a resigned sigh and a muttering, "Screw it," he hit the dial.

It rang twice before Lando picked up, his voice instantly smug. “Well, well, if it isn’t the mysterious man of the summer break. Miss me already?”

Oscar groaned. “Don’t start.”

Lando laughed. “What’s up? You sound like someone just told you tyre deg was permanent.”

“I need... advice.”

There was a pause. Then, delighted: “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Oscar rubbed his forehead. “I’m serious, mate.”

“Alright, alright.” Lando’s voice softened just enough. “What kind of advice? Is this about the girl?”

Oscar hesitated, then said quietly, “Yeah. Edith.”

Lando let out a low whistle. “The café girl. The one with the twins. The one you accidentally spent three hours on the phone talking about instead of watching the practice footage last week?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You recounted a bedtime story she told her kids. Word for word.”

Oscar groaned again, this time into a pillow. “Why am I even calling you?”

“Because,” Lando said smugly, “despite your terrible judgment in choosing a wingman, you know I’m annoyingly good at this.”

Oscar sat up. “Okay, but this isn’t, like… I don’t want advice on flirting.”

“Oh, thank God,” Lando said dramatically. “Because you’re hopeless at that. Go on.”

“I want to ask her out,” Oscar said. “On a proper date. Just her. But every time I try, I sound like a malfunctioning toaster.”

Lando burst out laughing. “A malfunctioning toaster?”

“Like... sparks, smoke, nothing working right. I freeze up, start talking about something completely unrelated, then leave with a takeaway muffin I didn’t want, not the muffin is bad or something, it's just,... you know me.”

“That’s impressively bad,” Lando admitted. “You’ve got feelings for her?”

Oscar was quiet for a second. “Yeah. I think I really do.”

Lando’s tone shifted just slightly, less teasing now. “Alright. Then stop trying to impress her.”

Oscar frowned. “That’s your advice?”

“Yes. You’re not Oscar Piastri: race car driver to her. You’re just Oscar. The guy who laughs at her kids’ jokes and brings her pastries even though she’s surrounded by them. She already likes you, mate.”

Oscar swallowed. “How do you know?”

“Because you don’t talk about someone like that unless you’re halfway gone. And from the little I’ve heard of her and I have heard about her, trust me, she sounds like someone who notices the real stuff. So just be real.”

There was a long pause.

Then Lando added, “And maybe don’t open with ‘Would you like to get dinner, or... toast?’”

Oscar laughed in spite of himself. “I hate you.”

“You love me. Now go get your girl, Toaster Boy.”

“Thank you, Lando. Not that everything you said is useful, obviously,”

“Thanking me would be enough, Osc. And you are coming back right? The summer is not going to last forever…”

“I will, don’t worry. We have like 2, 3 weeks till I come back.”

Oscar hung up a few minutes later. He still didn’t have the perfect line, or a plan. But somehow, after talking to Lando, it didn’t feel like he needed one. The call with Lando helped. Mostly.

Oscar still felt like a blender set on the wrong speed, but at least now he knew he wasn’t alone in it, and that maybe he didn’t have to be perfect. He just had to be himself.

He was mid-way through pacing his hotel room, working out if he should try writing what he wanted to say in his Notes app like some sort of nervous teenager, when his phone buzzed.

[TEXT FROM EDITH]:By the way, thanks again for swinging by the café today. Ivy says you make the best silly voices. Eddie says you owe him a rematch in napkin tic-tac-toe.Also... I liked seeing you.

Oscar stared at the screen. His brain short-circuited halfway through rereading the final line for the fifth time.

“I liked seeing you.”

He reread it again. Then a seventh time, because his heart apparently needed reminders to keep beating normally.

Without thinking, he typed back:

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]:I liked seeing you too.Actually... I was wondering if you’d want to see me again. Like... just us? Maybe? Like a real kind of thing? Dinner?

He hovered over the send button.

Paused.

Backspaced the last sentence three times.

Rewrote it.

Added a comma.

Deleted the comma.

Finally, he just gave up on finesse, closed his eyes, and hit send.

Immediately regretted it.

Threw his phone onto the bed like it had bitten him.

Then stared at it like it might explode.

Three dots appeared.

Then vanished.

Then came back.

Then vanished again.

Oscar was ninety percent sure he was going to pass out.

Finally, her reply landed.

[TEXT FROM EDITH]:I’d love that.Friday? After I close up? You pick the place. Surprise me.

He fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, grinning like someone who’d just been handed the final puzzle piece to a map they hadn’t realized they were building.

He grabbed his phone again and, before he could lose the nerve, sent:

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]:Friday it is. It might be the worst dinner surprise of your life.But I promise I’ll try really hard to make it the best one.

[TEXT FROM EDITH]:I think as long as it’s with you, I’ll be okay.

Oscar buried his face in a pillow and groaned. “I am so done for.”

But he was smiling. And this time, he didn’t want to run from it.

---------------------------------------------------

Friday came faster than Oscar expected.

He’d spent more time choosing a restaurant than he ever had choosing tyres for a wet race. He wanted somewhere simple, not flashy, something that felt like them. After some frantic Googling, three backup plans, and a near-meltdown over Google Reviews, he landed on a tucked-away bistro near the river. Candlelight. Wood floors. Small tables. Not too loud. It felt like the kind of place where you could actually hear each other talk.

This part bellow is written from Edith’s POV

By five-thirty, my bedroom looked like a fabric explosion had taken place. There were blouses draped over the chair, the mirror, the curtain rod. A pile of discarded jeans sat in judgment on the floor. Somewhere under the chaos, one of Ivy’s socks had turned up. She wasn’t even in here, which made it all the more impressive.

The twins had been banned with the full force of a “no dessert for a week” warning, which I'd only threatened once before, the night Eddie tried to feed popcorn to the toaster.

Angie and Luke were sprawled on my bed, cross-legged like they were judging some kind of last-minute runway show, sipping from their drinks and offering commentary with all the gentleness of reality TV hosts.

“This is a disaster,” I muttered, holding up a navy blouse. “I look like I’m going to a parent-teacher meeting.”

Luke squinted. “It’s... conservative.”

“Like Queen Elizabeth conservative,” Angie added, snatching it from my hands. “You’re going on a date, not trying to be cast in The Crown.”

I flopped down on the bed, pressing my face into a pillow and groaning. “I can’t do this. I haven’t done this in years. What if I forget how to have a conversation that doesn’t involve nap schedules or snack rotations?”

“You’ll be fine,” Angie said, rubbing my back in gentle circles. “You like him, don’t you?”

I lifted my head, cheeks flushed. “I do. And that’s the terrifying part. He makes me nervous. Not in a bad way, just in a... heart-doing-weird-things way.”

Luke raised his can toward me with a knowing smile. “Weird-thing hearts are usually a good sign.”

“But what if I show up looking like a crumpled mum trying too hard?”

“Then let’s find the version of you that doesn’t have yogurt stains and snack wrappers in her pockets,” Angie declared, standing with purpose and diving back into my wardrobe like a woman on a mission.

She flicked past three shirts and one suspiciously wrinkled dress before pausing. “What about this?”

I blinked. “The sundress?”

It was pale cornflower blue. The one I’d bought impulsively at the end of last summer when I saw it on sale and told myself maybe, someday, I’d have somewhere to wear it. Thin straps, soft skirt, a gentle cinch at the waist, with little white embroidered flowers stitched delicately along the hem.

“It’s perfect,” Angie said, tossing it toward me like a treasure.

I hesitated. “You think it’s too much?”

Luke sat forward, suddenly earnest. “I think it’s just right. It looks like you. And you deserve to show up feeling like your real self. Not Mum Edith. Not Café Edith. Just... Edith.”

Something in his voice caught me off guard, that quiet, honest affection he rarely showed unless it mattered. I nodded, fingers brushing over the fabric.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing in front of the mirror, dressed in mascara lightly brushed, and hair loosely curled. My heart was doing that tapping thing it hadn’t done in years, like a quiet knock at the door of some part of me I thought I’d packed away for good.

Angie grinned from the bed. “You look like you might get kissed under fairy lights.”

“Or a lamppost,” Luke added with a wink. “Again.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. He makes me feel like I’m allowed to want this again, I thought, and the realization sat sweet and warm in my chest.

Angie stepped up behind me and brushed a curl from my shoulder. “Then go get your something-again.”

And then the buzzer rang.

Cue immediate chaos.

I grabbed my bag. Luke, unhelpfully, stole the half-drunk beer out of my hand. Angie yelled, “Posture!” like we were on a catwalk. My heart was suddenly knocking a little louder now — no longer polite, more like open the door, Edith.

So I did.

And there he was.

Oscar stood on the doorstep in a white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, black jeans, and in his hands, a bouquet of lilies, wrapped a little unevenly, like he’d carried them all the way here and worried the whole time about crushing them.

He looked... not slick or polished, but undone in a beautiful way. And nervous. I could see it in the way he shifted on his feet, how he smiled, soft, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“Hi,” he said, voice warm and careful.

“Hi,” I breathed, stepping into the evening air that suddenly felt like something out of a story I hadn’t finished writing yet.

And just like that, the dress didn’t feel like too much anymore.

Her POV ends here

Behind them, footsteps creaked. Luke leaned casually in the doorway, arms folded, looking very much like a guard dog in stylish sneakers.

Oscar gave a polite nod. “Evening.”

Luke squinted, blinked... and then paused. His brows furrowed.

And then, softly, more like a gasp than a sentence. He said, “Wait. You’re... you're Oscar Piastri. The Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar winced. “Uh. Yeah.”

Edith turned, blinking between them. “Sorry, what?”

Luke looked at her like she’d just announced she didn’t know what a tomato was. “Edith. Edie. You’re dating an F1 driver. He races for McLaren. He’s literally on TV. He’s, like... famous-famous.”

Edith turned slowly to Oscar, who looked increasingly ready to disappear into the flower bouquet.

“I... didn’t know that,” she said.

“I wasn’t hiding it,” Oscar said quickly. “I just, didn’t lead with it. It never came up.”

Luke blinked. “It never came up?”

“I was too busy talking about other things,” Oscar muttered.

Angie peeked around the corner. “Is he a pop star? A model? Did I miss something?”

Luke waved her off. “Not now, Angie.”

Edith stared at Oscar, searching his face. He looked a little scared, but entirely sincere. Like he was holding his breath.

She let out a quiet laugh, not cruel, just... startled. “You’re full of surprises.”

“I really wasn’t trying to be,” he said. “I just wanted you to see me. Not... the stuff around me.”

She studied him, the nervous way he clutched the wildflowers like a lifeline, the soft way he was watching her, not anyone else.

And then, with a small smile, she reached out and took the flowers. “Okay. Just... maybe warn me next time you’re a household name, yeah?”

Oscar let out a breath of pure relief. “Deal.”

Luke muttered behind them, “I’m googling your net worth later.”

“Please don’t,” Oscar said as he and Edith stepped out onto the quiet street.

The sun was still low, and the air smelled like salt and lavender from someone’s window box. Edith’s dress fluttered in the breeze, and Oscar kept glancing at her, like she was more dazzling than a podium finish.

Instagram Story: @/Edithlovesedit

Liked by @/Angiethebougie, @/Luckyluke and 138 people.

@/Edithlovesedit: Got myself a date tonight, the dress was approved by the committee TM, and there's a special bouquet from the gent!

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@/Luckyluke: Oh u lucky bitch the date with mr. Piastri no less. Anyway, the committee approved him.

@/Angiethebougie: did he kiss u, like kiss kiss on the lip, not cheeks, pls tell me he did

-> @/Edithlovesedit: he did and oh my he is good 🤫

@/Sheila_Ezra: u got a date, update me and ur dad on this and told Ivy and Eddie we missed them

-> @/Edithlovesedit: yes mum, love u and dad too, the kids are still sleeping so i will fill u in later.

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 2 months ago

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 2 months ago

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Can someone help me to find a fic that I have been reading. I forgot to hit the like button and then Tumblr just refresh all the page and it’s gone 😭 It was a fic about Lando and a single mom, she is also an employee at Mclaren too and i think her daughter’s nickname is Stelly Belly. The first chapter is at a Christmas gala at the MCL HQ.

#send help #pls help

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 2 months ago

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Summer Serendipity

The first true warmth of a new sunny day arrived with a surprising clarity, chasing away the drizzles and grey that lingered in Belfast the day before. The sun painted the city in gold, coaxing flowers into bloom along the footpaths. Edith took one look at the clear blue above her window and made a decision: today was a day for going out, maybe they could have a picnic since today is the twins’ day off too.

She packed a small picnic, cheese sandwiches, ham rolls, carrot sticks, sliced apples, and a tub of homemade flapjacks. Ivy insisted on bringing her favorite blanket, a faded tartan that had seen its share of childhood picnics. Eddie was in charge of juice boxes, which he nearly dropped twice on the walk down the stairs.

Oscar arrived at the café just as they were locking up. He wore a soft linen shirt, rolled at the sleeves, and sunglasses that made him look almost anonymous. There was a lightness to his step, a smile that came easily as Eddie launched himself into a rambling monologue about the “super secret picnic plan.”

“Serious business,” Oscar agreed, kneeling to help Eddie adjust his untied shoelace. “Can I be part of the mission?”

Ivy eyed him with mock suspicion. “Only if you carry the blanket.”

Oscar accepted the role with a solemn salute, and the four of them set off, laughter trailing behind them as they navigated the Saturday bustle.

Their destination was the Botanic Gardens, one of Edith’s favorite places in the city, lush, sprawling lawns, winding gravel paths, and the Victorian glasshouse that glimmered in the sunlight. They found a quiet patch beneath an enormous oak, just far enough from the playground for the children to run wild, but close enough for Edith to keep a watchful eye.

Oscar spread the blanket with exaggerated care, smoothing the corners as if it were a royal decree. Eddie and Ivy giggled, tumbling onto the tartan in a heap. Edith unpacked their food, arranging it with a mother’s neatness. For a moment, Oscar simply watched them, their easy affection, the way they fit together, the ordinary magic of a family at rest.

The meal was simple, but it tasted better than any fancy catering Oscar had ever had at a race weekend. Maybe it was the open air, or the way Edith laughed at Ivy’s jokes, or how Eddie’s sticky fingers kept finding their way into Oscar’s share of flapjacks. Maybe it was the freedom of not being watched, not being expected to perform.

After eating, the children coaxed Oscar into a game of hide-and-seek. Edith leaned back against the tree, her eyes following Oscar as he pretended to search and fail spectacularly, always just missing the children as they giggled from their too-obvious hiding places. He was utterly unselfconscious, letting himself be silly, letting the joy of the moment carry him.

When the adults finally convinced the children to take a break, they wandered through the gardens. Oscar pointed out the strange Australian plants in the Palm House, sharing stories of summers much hotter and drier than this gentle Irish day. Ivy asked endless questions, while Eddie clung to his mother’s hand, shy but fascinated.

They continued the afternoon at the playground, where Ivy challenged Oscar to a race across the monkey bars. Oscar obliged, flailing and nearly falling, earning shrieks of laughter from both children and even a rare, unguarded laugh from Edith. She was brighter today, Oscar noticed, her face relaxed, her posture open. She didn’t seem weighed down by worry or by the ghosts of the past.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the gardens, the air took on the faintest hint of chill. Ivy, usually indefatigable, let out a theatrical yawn. Eddie, perched contentedly on Oscar’s shoulders, was quieter now, his golden head resting sleepily against Oscar’s cap. Edith glanced at her phone, then at the sky, reluctant to let the magic of the day slip away just yet.

“Are you all hungry again?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Ivy perked up immediately. “Can we have fish and chips?”

Oscar laughed. “You read my mind, Ivy. I was just thinking about dinner.”

Edith hesitated, feeling the familiar tug between frugality and the desire to treat her children. Oscar caught the fleeting doubt in her eyes.

“Let’s make it an adventure,” he said gently. “Do you know a good place?”

Edith thought for a moment, then smiled. “There’s a chippy near the river. It’s not fancy, but the kids love it.” She looked at him, a little shy. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Oscar replied, meaning it.

They gathered their things and made their way out of the park, hands linked in a chain, Ivy leading Edith, who held Eddie’s hand, and Oscar carrying the picnic basket. The city was alive with summer energy: couples strolling, children riding bikes, music drifting from open windows. The walk to the chip shop was leisurely, filled with stories and laughter, the twins peppering Oscar with questions about Australia “Are there really kangaroos everywhere?”, “Has he met sharks or crocodiles before?”, “Are the giant spiders real?” and “Have you ever driven a real fire truck?”.

The chip shop was just as Edith described: simple, bustling, redolent with the intoxicating aroma of frying fish with potatoes and vinegar. They found a table by the window, and Oscar insisted on ordering for everyone. He returned with steaming parcels of battered cod, crispy chips, alongside deep-fried fish with mushy peas, and a bottle of lemonade to share. The twins tore into the food with gusto, giggling over the fizz of the lemonade and the satisfying crunch of the chips. Edith, watching her children’s delight, looked younger, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed with happiness.

Oscar found himself studying her in the golden light. There was a softness about her now, a warmth that seemed magnified in these ordinary moments. When she met his gaze, she smiled, and for a second, it felt like there was no one else in the world.

Conversation was easy, unhurried. Edith shared stories of her university days, of wild nights at the student union and getting lost on the way to lectures. Oscar recounted tales of his travels, carefully edited, of course, focusing on funny mishaps and odd meals abroad. He told them about when one of his co-workers just casually adopted him and then told him to call Leo, this co-worker’s “dog son”, brother. Ivy and Eddie were entranced, their laughter ringing out in the small shop.

After dinner, they walked slowly along the river, the city lights twinkling on the water. Eddie clung to Edith’s hand, while Ivy skipped between Oscar and her mother, singing a made-up song about “picnic days and fish & chip shop nights.” Oscar listened, his heart aching with a gentle, unfamiliar longing. It was when Edith suggested to give him

When they reached the café, Eddie was nearly asleep on his feet, and Ivy’s eyes were heavy with dreams. Edith unlocked the door and shepherded her children upstairs, pausing to turn back to Oscar. She lingered for a moment, as if wanting to say more.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, almost as faint as a whisper, “I can’t remember the last time we had a day like that.”

He smiled, feeling a fierce, protective fondness for her and the twins. “Me neither.”

For a moment, they simply stood there, the city quiet around them. Oscar felt the urge to say something more, about how much this meant, about how he was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could find a different kind of happiness here. But he held back, content to let the silence stretch between them, full of possibility.

“See you tomorrow at the cafe?” Edith asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied.

The following morning, Belfast was washed in that rare, dazzling sunlight that seemed to make the whole city shimmer. Oscar woke with a sense of contentment, the echoes of laughter from the previous night lingering in his mind. The memory of Edith’s smile, Ivy’s hand in his, the taste of chips and lemonade, all of it felt both real and impossibly precious.

He moved through the morning with a lightness he hadn’t known in years. He made tea, scribbled a few lines in his notebook, and looked out the window at the busy street below, feeling, if only for a fleeting moment, as if he belonged. His phone, long neglected and still on do-not-disturb mode, sat face down on the kitchen counter. For days, he had managed to forget it existed, but now, out of habit more than needed, he picked it up and thumbed it awake.

The screen lit up with a list of missed calls and messages. Team updates, media inquiries, some from his mum, a few from old school friends…but most persistent of all were the missed calls from Lando. His teammate, fellow driver, and, despite the rivalry, a friend who always knew when something was off.

Oscar stared at the notifications for a long minute, torn. The world he’d left behind was calling, and with it came everything he’d tried to escape: expectations, pressure, the relentless grind of being “Oscar Piastri, Formula 1 driver.” For a heartbeat, he considered ignoring it all again.

But Lando had never been one to let things go.

The phone vibrated in his hand. Lando’s name flashed across the screen. Oscar hesitated, then sighed, and finally answered.

“Oscar! Mate, you’re alive!” Lando’s voice was half-relieved, half-indignant, all rapid-fire energy. “Where the hell are you? No one can get a hold of you. Zak’s losing his mind. I thought you’d been kidnapped by Ferrari or something.”

Oscar laughed despite himself, the sound rusty. “I’m fine, Lando. I just… needed a break.”

“A break? To where? You didn’t even tell me. It’s like you have disappeared, no news, no updates, not even a glimpse of you through someone’s camera. People think you’ve gone off to meditate in the Pyrenees or something.”

Oscar scrubbed a hand over his face, guilt pricking at him. “Sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I just needed to get away. Clear my head.”

There was a pause on the line, and Oscar could almost picture Lando’s familiar frown. “Look, I get it. Everyone’s under pressure. But you can’t go radio silent, man. People care about you. I care about you.”

Oscar felt the tightness in his chest ease a little. “Thanks, Lando. Really. I just… I needed to find out who I am without all of it, you know?”

Lando was quiet for a moment, then softer: “Yeah. I get that. But you don’t have to do it alone. Where are you, anyway?”

Oscar hesitated. A part of him wanted to keep this world, this sweet Belfast life, hidden, untouched by the noise and scrutiny of racing. But the loneliness in Lando’s voice tugged at him.

“I’m in Belfast,” he admitted. “Just… taking some time. Met some good people. It’s quiet here.”

Lando whistled. “Northern Ireland, eh? Didn’t have that on my bingo card. Are you coming back?”

“I don’t know when, but not now,” Oscar admitted, the truth heavy on his tongue. “I think I need a little more time. But I’m okay, Lando. Really.”

Lando’s laugh was wry. “You sound different. Happier, maybe. That’s good. Just promise you’ll check in? And, uh… don’t get too attached to the Guinness.”

Oscar grinned. “No promises.”

“You sounded different, Osc.”

“Different how?”

“Like you’re happier, maybe I should come to Belfast too.”

“I don’t think it suits you, Lando. You would feel too bored in your second hour here.”

“Challenge accepted, Osc.”

They talked for a while longer, the conversation meandering from racing gossip to old in-jokes, to a tentative, unspoken understanding that things might never be quite the same. When Oscar finally hung up, he felt a strange mix of relief and longing, grateful for the friend who cared enough to reach out, but also fiercely protective of the small, precious life he was having here.

He slipped his phone back into airplane mode, tucked it away, and got ready for the day. Downstairs, the café would be opening soon. Edith would be there, her hair shining in the morning light, her smile ready to welcome him home. And for now, that was enough.

As he stepped out into the sunlit street, Oscar realized that sometimes, the past doesn’t have to be an enemy. Sometimes, it’s just a reminder of how far you’ve come, and how much you have to lose.

He made his way to The Bean & Blossom, eager for the quiet comfort of Edith’s company and the cheerful chaos of the café. The bell on the door chimed as he entered, and he found Edith behind the counter, brow furrowed over her phone, Ivy and Eddie perched nearby with bowls of cereal. The twins greeted him with sleepy grins.

Edith looked up, her relief obvious. “Morning, Oscar. You’re just in time.” She held up her phone. “Angie, the part-timer, just called in sick. It’s just me and the kids today, and… well, the Sunday crowd’s no joke.”

Oscar didn’t hesitate. “Put me to work. I can take orders, clear tables, whatever you need.”

Ivy perked up. “Can Oscar make smoothies?”

Edith laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders. “If he can figure out the blender, he’s welcome to try.”

Oscar grinned, rolling up his sleeves. “Point me at the to-do list, boss.”

The first hour was a gentle warm-up: regulars trickled in for their usual scones and flat whites. Oscar, more used to the hum of engines than espresso machines, approached the counter with a mix of bravado and trepidation. Edith gave him a crash course on the till and the basics of the coffee machine.

“Steam wand on the left, milk jug here, and, careful, it bites if you’re not gentle,” she teased, demonstrating a perfect swirl of froth.

Oscar’s first attempt produced a cappuccino that was more foam than coffee. The customer, a wiry old man named Mr. McBride, sipped it, then winked. “Are you trying to drown me, lad, or just impress the boss?”

The regulars quickly caught on that Oscar was a rookie. Mrs. O’Malley, who always ordered the strongest black coffee, offered advice (“You need a heavier hand, love, don’t be afraid of the grind!”), while young Jamie tried to teach Oscar latte art, resulting in a bear-shaped blob that sent the entire counter into giggles.

Between spills, Oscar found a rhythm. He cleared tables, delivered pastries, and learned to decipher Edith’s handwritten order slips. The twins helped by ferrying napkins and stacking sugar packets, their pride in “helping Oscar” obvious. Edith darted between the kitchen and the front, her energy infectious, her laughter rising above the clatter.

At one point, Oscar dropped an entire tray of croissants. Flour dusted his hair and shirt, and Edith doubled over with laughter. He grinned, brushing crumbs from his shoulders. “I’m more of a hazard than a help, aren’t I?”

“You’re perfect,” Edith replied, eyes warm, “just maybe don’t quit your day job.”

As the lunch rush eased, Oscar found himself enjoying the simple cadence of café life: the regulars’ stories, the children’s laughter, the way Edith’s hand brushed his when they worked side by side. He felt, perhaps for the first time in months, useful in a way that had nothing to do with speed or fame. He was just Oscar, present and needed, part of something small but real.

After the last customer left, Edith flipped the sign to “Closed” and exhaled deeply. The kitchen was a mess, flour and coffee stains everywhere, but the atmosphere was jubilant, the air thick with accomplishment.

“Not bad for a first shift,” Edith said, handing Oscar a mug of tea. “You survived the coffee machine, the flour and Mrs. O’Malley’s critiques.”

Oscar raised his cup in salute. “I think I earned my stripes.”

The twins, sprawled on the sofa, demanded a reward for their hard work. Ivy piped up, “Mum, didn’t you say we could go see the giant’s footprints if we helped out?”

Edith smiled at Oscar, her cheeks pink. “We did make a promise. How about next Saturday, if the weather holds? We’ll make it a proper outing, The Dark Hedges, Carnlough Harbour, Cushendun Caves, and The Giant’s Causeway.”

Oscar felt warmth bloom in his chest. “It’s a date,” he said softly, meaning every word.

Edith’s eyes met his, holding his gaze for a long, sweet moment, the promise of more adventures, more ordinary magic, and maybe, just maybe, an unexpected kiss.

As they set about cleaning up together, Oscar realized that sometimes the best kind of belonging came not from winning, but from simply showing up, messy, earnest, and all in.

Taglist: @teamnovalak, @angelluv16, @frankiejo04, @manuztb, @httpsxnox @devilacot @maximuminfluencerstarlight @bee-the-loser

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