Chapter 24
“ALeo for James?” I call out, setting the warm mug I found at the thrift store on the counter.
This one in particular is a favorite of mine.
Cute little puppies all sit in a line with their tails showing, and the writing on the mug says, I like wiggly tails and I cannot lie. I laugh every time I see it.
When Cole and I opened our coffee shop four years ago, we were trying to find the perfect mugs for when customers ordered in, but all the options were so expensive. I had the idea to source our mugs from local thrift stores. The crazier the better.
It’s been a hit. Customers never know which mug they are getting, and some even like to buy the mug with their coffee.
Ugly coffee mugs are never in short supply at our local thrift stores, so we have never had a problem finding them.
And if you find your donated mug at our shop, your coffee is free.
This got a little out of hand at first, so we had to start asking for proof, but I love it when someone comes in with a picture of them with the mug then seeing the mug on our shelf.
Seeing how something can be reused, re-loved despite once being thrown away…
The mugs and name were my idea, but the brilliant business plan and financial side of things was all Cole. She has a brain that can work numbers like a machine. Honestly, she reminds me of Gage in that aspect. Numbers just click to her. Coffee just clicks to me.
Henry Leo’s is the name of our shop. And every time I see that name, a pang of guilt smacks me in the chest. I miss that old grumpy man. I think I have dialed the Mill’s number about a thousand times but I can never press the dial button. I’m a coward, and I own that.
Our shop has been a haven for me. I was so lost for so long, and when we opened the shop, I felt like I had finally found where I belonged.
Eight years ago when I ran, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I got on bus after bus until I was out of my allotted travel money. I put it up to fate and the price of bus tickets to get me to my next home. And I landed here, in Boston.
I was lucky to find Dianna and her daughter, Colette, who was a year younger than me.
Dianna owned a beauty salon. They had an ad out front, needed a receptionist and front-end assistant.
I walked in. Applied. Broke down in tears.
And was hired. I was also accepted and cared for without hesitation or question.
I blamed my pregnancy for the emotional trauma vomit.
Still to this day, I couldn’t tell you why I dumped my life story on her after only a few minutes in her presence, but there was just something about her.
A safety I had not felt since I first met Ski.
I think Miss Dianna felt bad for me, or maybe she related to me—being a single mother herself—but she took me in, and I’ve never looked back.
Okay, maybe I have looked back a few times.
Looked back at all the notes hidden under my bed in my old coffee can.
That old coffee can that held my escape money now holds my Everett.
Stupid coffee can seems to have a habit of holding all my hopes and dreams. Now the money's gone, and even though it’s filled with his notes, it’s still empty.
Filled with empty promises, empty excuses, and empty dreams that will never come true.
“Excuse me, ma’am. What are you doing?”
Cole comes out from the back office. Her hand on her hip and the fiery gaze in her eyes has me questioning if I forgot an important date or something.
I glance around the shop then down at my black half apron. Some things never change; some things change too much.
“Uhh…working?” I say hesitantly, like it might be the wrong answer.
“Why?”
“Because we own a coffee shop and someone has to feed the caffeine addicts?”
“Oh, for fucks sake LJ. It’s your birthday! You should be walking around naked in your apartment, blasting the Spice Girls and day drinking!”
She has called me LJ since she found out my middle name was Jean. An awful middle name, really. Guess I’m lucky it isn’t my first.
“Do you know me at all?” I raise an eyebrow at her, and she throws her hands in the air.
“You are seriously no fun. Can I even trust you to actually go out with me tonight?”
“No. You really can’t.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me to the back office.
“Babe, it’s your twenty-sixth birthday. We need to get toasted. Like a marshmallow. You promised after you missed your twenty-fifth that you would celebrate this one with me! Pleeeeeasseeeee!”
I look at her big dark brown puppy dog eyes and relent. “Fine.”
It’s always the please that gets me.
Her screech of excitement practically blows out my eardrum, and I think the whole shop must think a murder is occurring.
“And I am totally making sure you get a good dicking tonight.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Oh come on! Have you even had sex since RuRu was conceived?”
No.
“Yes.”
“Bull fucking shit. With who?”
“My vibrator. He is quite satisfying.”
She’s quiet a moment, contemplating.
“Okay, you’ve got me there. Why didn’t God make real men with vibrating dicks? I bet the divorce rate would be much lower.”
I shake my head at her as I escape back to the bar.
Cole was the first person to want to be my friend.
She was relentless in her pursuit of my friendship, and well, she reminded me of Everett, how he was in the beginning.
Always trying to make me smile. She allowed me to have my secrets, but she also never gave up on me, just being present until I was comfortable giving them up on my own.
She and her mom also taught me a thing or two about how to take care of my wild curls.
My mom never knew what products to use, how to brush them properly and care for them.
She had fine, straight blonde hair, a complete contrast to my own coarse, curly dark-brown hair.
But it wouldn’t have mattered if she had known how to take care of my curls.
Colette is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.
Her skin is darker than mine, and it's so smooth, sometimes I wonder how she touches it without breaking it.
Like glass. Her almond eyes slant upward, and her smile is bright and radiant.
Where I let my curls free, she has her beautiful black hair in goddess twists that go down to her mid back, little gold charms decorate her locks.
Also opposite of me, her attitude. She has more sass in her pinky finger than I do my entire body. She and I contrast in many areas of our lives, but this also makes us pull out the best in each other.
When the shop closes, Cole drags me to her apartment and we get ready. But worry has invaded my mind. She can read it all over me. I’m not very good at hiding my emotions anymore. Motherhood has made me the biggest cry baby, seriously, fuck those hormones that change you forever.
“What's on your mind, LJ? Is it RuRu? You know he is going to have a blast with Umma.”
Ru couldn’t say grandma, so he started calling Miss Dianna Umma, and it just stuck.
“I know. He has never stayed the night anywhere without me. I’m just a little sad, I guess, that he is growing up. He doesn’t need Mama anymore.”
Is a tear coming to my eye at the thought of my seven-year-old boy not needing his mama? You bet your fucking ass it is. That boy is my best friend, my everything.
“Oh, cut that shit out. That boy will always need you. You’re his best friend!”
I know she’s right. But it still hurts to think about him growing up. It seems like yesterday I was trying to fit a thrifted crib in the back of Miss Dianna’s Toyota Camry while I was seven months pregnant.
Not my best moment. I blame it on my pregnancy brain that I thought I could make it fit.
I started crying in the parking lot, just sitting on the ground feeling absolutely defeated.
I remember so clearly thinking that this was the moment I knew I couldn’t do this without Everett.
I stayed strong for seven months without him.
My anger fueled my independence, but trying to fit a crib into a car, I broke.
I almost got up and drove back to Aurora. But then I felt my son kick in my belly. Like he was reminding me and telling me, “Hey, it’s you and me, Mom.”
I took a deep breath and stood up—well, more like clawed my way up the car because my belly was so fucking huge. Stupid Everett and his giant legs and giant head. His son took after him in that aspect. I got up with a new determination. I knew I could do this. It was the two of us.
I did, in fact, get that crib home. I went inside, asked for a screwdriver, took that bitch apart right there in the parking lot, and loaded it up.
And after I put it back together in our little studio apartment, I ate an entire box of mac ‘n’ cheese to myself and gave my coffee can of notes the middle finger.
I’d thought, I fucking did it. Without you, Everett, just like you wanted it to be.
“Earth to LJ…”
“Huh? Shit. Sorry. Got a little lost there.”
She comes up to me now, one fake eyelash on, the other still lying on her vanity. Pulls me into a hug then holds me by my shoulders and looks me dead in the eyes.
“Let’s go fuck shit up, babe.”