Chapter Eleven
Jules
“I ordered a half-caff, half-decaf latte with oat milk and a dash of cinnamon sprinkled on top,” a woman in a sharp black power suit announces as I place a to-go cup on the counter.
I nod. “That’s what I made for you.”
“You call this a dash of cinnamon?” She gasps, ripping off the lid like I just served her mud water.
I glance at the foam. A perfectly reasonable amount of cinnamon stares back at me.
“Yes,” I say simply.
She scoffs. “A dash is a light dusting. This is a quarter-size sprinkle.”
I take the cup from her with a tight-lipped smile. “Let me fix that for you.”
“Good,” she sniffs.
Behind me, Connie lets out a dramatic eye roll.
Most of the time, customers are friendly, but every once in a while, we get a Sarah.
And I’m not sure if Sarah is just having a bad day or if her personality is permanently set to high-maintenance, but coffee is supposed to bring people joy.
It’s supposed to make the morning a little less… whatever this is.
I remake the half-caff, half-decaf oat milk latte and, because I’m feeling just a little petty, I sprinkle the tiniest amount of cinnamon. So tiny, I can barely see it myself. I snap on a lid and hand it back.
“Anything else I can get you?” I ask sweetly.
“Let me taste it first,” she replies, lifting the cup like it holds the secrets of the universe.
Taste.
The word hits me like a sucker punch.
Corbin’s lips trailing down my stomach, his voice husky against my skin.
“I want to taste you, Jules. It’s been so long.”
Heat rushes up my face. I clear my throat, willing the memory away.
Sarah hums in approval, finally satisfied with her light dusting of cinnamon, while I try to remember how to breathe.
“I guess it’s alright,” Sarah finally says before her phone starts ringing. Without another word, she waltzes out of the coffee shop, already caught up in another conversation.
Connie watches her go, then shakes her head. “Why are some people so…” she trails off, searching for the right word.
“Unhappy?” I supply at the same time she says, “Rude.”
We share a look, and I let out a heavy sigh.
“You seem tense, boss.” Connie props a hand on her hip, her gaze sharp with concern.
I glance around the café, making sure no customers are within earshot, then lower my voice. “Honestly? I’m stressing out.”
“Why?” Connie frowns, the usual smoothness of her forehead now lined with confusion.
I shrug like it’s no big deal, even though it is. “I may have slept with Corbin. And then went on a date with Trey.”
Connie’s mouth drops open. For a second, she just stares at me in stunned silence. Then, laughter bursts out of her, full and unfiltered.
“Oh, Jules,” she says between giggles. “Yeah, we need a girls’ night. Tomorrow. No arguments.”
I exhale, shaking my head at myself. “You’re right. We definitely need a girls’ night.”
“Sarge can close for us.” Connie tips her head toward the register, where my brother is currently deep in conversation with a customer.
“Absolutely,” I agree, already feeling a little lighter.
The day drags on after that, even though we’re busier than usual.
The cold weather pushes people inside, craving warmth and caffeine, and the steady stream of customers should make the hours fly by.
But as two-thirty approaches and another wave files in, I glance at the clock and realize I’m running out of time.
If I leave now, I’ll make it to Tate’s school in time, but that means leaving Sarge and Connie to handle a full house alone.
I hesitate for only a second before pulling out my phone and calling Corbin.
Predictably, he answers on the first ring.
“Everything okay?” His voice is deep, steady, familiar. I hate that my heart stutters the moment he speaks.
“I’m slammed here—”
Before I can even finish, he cuts in. “I got it. I’ll grab Tate and drop him off to you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I’m heading out now. We’ll see you in thirty.”
A slow breath leaves my lips. “Corbin… thank you.”
“We’re a team, Jules,” he says, like it’s that simple. “I’ve always got your back.”
The call ends, but I stay there for a moment, phone still in my hand, pressing a palm lightly to my chest.
The few times I haven’t been able to pick up Tate—whether it was work, an emergency, or a last-minute meeting—Corbin has always been there. No hesitation. No resentment. Just… there.
I glance around the coffee shop, feeling the warmth of everything I’ve built. The handpicked plants in the window. The painted tables, the shelves lined with bags of beans I sourced myself.
If Corbin was different—if he hated me, if he was angry with me—would I have been able to do this? Could I have built a life like this for Tate and me?
I never really thought about it before now. How so much of what I’ve accomplished was because Corbin never made me feel like I had to do it alone.
A low groan pulls me from my thoughts.
“Oh, girl.” Connie leans against the counter, arms crossed, shaking her head. “You got it bad for your baby daddy. No wonder you’ve been so damn tense.”
***
Thirty minutes later, the door swings open, and Tate barrels inside, his backpack bouncing wildly against his back as he heads straight for me. His energy is a force all on its own, uncontained, unfiltered joy.
I barely have time to brace myself before his little arms wrap tightly around my waist, knocking me slightly off balance as I rock back on my heels.
“Mom!” he screeches, hugging me tighter. “Dad said we can go to the park! Do you want to come with us?”
The words barely register before my eyes lift past him, drawn—like they always are—to Corbin.
The late afternoon sun has finally broken through the gray clouds, and as he steps inside, the light catches him just right, wrapping around him like something out of a dream.
My heart does something strange—stumbles over itself, flips on end, beats faster, louder, and yet somehow slower and steadier all at once.
He’s glowing, and I hate that I notice. Hate that it makes my chest ache in a way I’m not ready to acknowledge.
Corbin finally reaches us, his gaze soft as it moves between Tate and me. “I said we had to ask Mom first, buddy.”
“Oh, right.” Tate lets go of me and straightens, his little hands clasped together in exaggerated desperation. “Mom, please can we go to the park with Dad? Please? ”
I glance over my shoulder at Connie, who’s already grinning like she knows exactly what’s happening here.
“We’ve got things covered, Jules,” she assures me.
Sarge grumbles under his breath before pushing through the double doors to the kitchen, muttering something about being underappreciated.
Corbin shifts beside me, his voice quieter, more careful. “It’s warmed up a little out there. If you’re busy, I can take him on my own.”
“Please, Mommy,” Tate pleads again, his blue eyes wide, his whole body practically vibrating with excitement.
Behind me, Connie chuckles. “Oh, just go already,” she teases. “You’d have to be heartless to say no to that face.”
Tate beams, and my resolve cracks.
Like I ever stood a chance.
“Let me grab my coat,” I say, untying my apron and handing it off to Connie.
Tate bounces on his feet as Corbin ruffles his hair. “Go put your backpack away, bud,” he tells him. “Then we’ll walk over to the park.”
As Tate darts toward the back, Connie lingers behind the counter, pretending to wipe something down but not even trying to hide her amusement. Great.
“Thanks for picking him up,” I tell Corbin as I reach for my coat.
He beats me to it, plucking it off the hook by the register. And then—oh god—he holds it open for me.
I hesitate for a second too long, caught off guard. He steps in closer, waiting. Yep. We’re really doing this.
I swallow hard and slip my arms through the sleeves, trying to ignore the way his breath skates across the back of my neck. Goosebumps prickle down my spine. I can’t help it.
“I want to taste you, Jules. It’s been so long.”
Not now. Not now. I shake the memory loose before it can dig too deep.
“I really appreciate it,” I say, stepping away and twisting back toward him.
His pupils are so dark, there’s only a small ring of icy blue left around them. I touch my cheek, suddenly warm. He still finds me attractive. I know he does. But… is that all?
“I can pick him up tomorrow,” I offer, needing to steer this conversation away from dangerous territory.
Corbin shakes his head. “It’s alright. I took a half-day. Volunteering in Tate’s class.”
I blink. “Really?”
He hitches a shoulder like it’s not a big deal. “Figured if I was there, maybe Lance Yeardley would stay the hell away from our son.”
A sigh slips out of me before I can stop it.
Connie makes a sound that’s definitely not a cough. She’s so enjoying this.
“Ready!” Tate bellows. “Come on! Let’s goooooo!”
He rushes toward the door, too excited to wait, while Corbin steps aside, motioning for me to go ahead of him.
When we reach the entrance, his left hand finds the small of my back as his right arm pushes open the glass door. It’s such a simple, familiar touch—something he’s done a thousand times before—but it makes my breath hitch.
The second his hand falls away, a cold draft rushes in, making me shiver.
I glance back, catching Connie watching us with a way too amused smile.
We walk in silence at first. Tate skips ahead, his blue reflective coat catching the sunlight, sending golden flecks dancing in my line of vision.
I step wrong—stupid uneven sidewalk—and before I can stumble, Corbin’s hand catches mine, threading his fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Um. This is dangerous territory. Too dangerous.
But I don’t pull away. And I hate that I don’t.
“You’ve never done well on uneven concrete,” Corbin murmurs, his voice laced with quiet amusement. “Don’t worry, Jules. Once we’re safely on the grass, I’ll let you go.”
I glance up at him. He has the audacity to smirk.
“It’s the sun,” I mutter, trying to sound unbothered. “Too… shiny.”
His thumb brushes the back of my hand. Slow. Soothing. My pulse stutters.
Seriously, what is wrong with me?
Desperate for a distraction, I blurt, “How’s work?”
He shrugs. “It’s my dad. It’s… work.”
A beat of silence stretches between us before I find myself asking something I’m not sure I want the answer to.
“And Susan?” I swallow hard.
Why am I asking this? I don’t want to care. But I do. And that’s a problem.
Corbin exhales slowly. “She’s pissed at me.”
“Why?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
He glances down at me, eyes unreadable. “Told her I thought we should keep things strictly professional. Apparently, she didn’t take it well.”
I blink, processing that. “But… I thought you were dating.”
He shakes his head, then lifts our joined hands slightly. “This?” His voice is low, almost intimate. “This is more intimate than anything I ever did with Susan.”
Wait. What?
I frown, trying to make sense of everything. “She seemed to know the house pretty well,” I counter. “And she just randomly showed up after our…” I trail off. I don’t even know what to call that night.
Corbin huffs a dry laugh. “She’d been to the house once before to go over a contract she ‘didn’t understand.’” He makes air quotes with his free hand. “Although, now I’m starting to think it was just an excuse to stop by.”
Despite the awkward topic, I find myself smiling. “So, you didn’t cheat on her with me?”
His smirk vanishes, replaced by a look of pure disbelief. “Why the hell would you think that?”
Before I can answer, Tate wiggles with excitement. “We’re here!”
His eyes drop to our hands, his whole face lighting up like he just witnessed Santa Claus in the flesh.
I should pull away. I should’ve pulled away minutes ago.
But I didn’t.
And true to his word, the second my feet hit the dying grass of the playground, Corbin lets me go.
The loss of his warmth is immediate. A sharp, unwelcome contrast.
And for some reason, it makes my heart drop all the way to my toes.