Chapter Twenty-One
You’re a tempest in fragile skin
Inhibitions paper thin
You’re the sand in an hourglass
Falling through my mind as the seconds pass
Oh, honey, I don’t got a chance
—US Lyric Bot [@HourlyUs]
Mom insisted that I sleep in, eat a proper breakfast, and come to work late. I tried to protest, but she said she was fine to be there before her physical therapy session.
So I’d gotten enough sleep and a full meal, which was why, when I walked into the café, I was confused about why I’d be hallucinating.
How else would you explain why Phillip Maan—the British teen heartthrob—was standing behind the counter, wearing a Tiny Tiger apron, and talking in an American accent that sounded like some sort of San Diego surfer with sunstroke?
“Yo,” he greeted. “’Sup, gorgeous? I’m Benjamin. How can I help you today?”
“Uh . . .” I glanced at Leon, Aspen, and Amber, who seemed to accept this as normal. “What are you doing, Phillip?”
“It’s Benjamin,” he emphasized, gesturing to the sticker badge on his shirt. “Ben, to my close personal friends and family. And also pretty customers. So, on second thought,” he said suavely, leaning across the counter, “you can call me whatever you like, love.”
Right. Okay. So this was an alternate universe. Nice. Maybe the café was doing awesome in this dimension and I was minor royalty.
“Is this supposed to be you going incognito?” I asked, dubious that being undercover worked if you actively flirted that hard.
Phillip nodded. “No one’s recognized me at all so far. Not in this disguise.”
He pointed up at his baseball cap that sported an embroidered orange octopus saying Hang Eight, Mate! as it clung to a purple surfboard.
“Bargain Barn?” I asked.
“It’s mine, actually,” Leon piped up.
Yeah, that checked out. “So what are you doing behind the counter, Ben?”
“Fixing your—please forgive me for saying this—rather dismal menu.”
“Well, since you said it so charmingly.”
“Was that sarcasm? I’m sensing an undertone of sarcasm. Anyway,” Phillip continued, “I found your lack of foamed milk disturbing, so I asked Amber to make some for me and she said . . .” He snapped his fingers and pointed at her to come in on cue.
“No way was I doing that,” Amber supplied.
“Yes, exactly, thank you,” Phillip continued, unruffled by this. “So I kicked Amber out and frothed my own milk. Then a customer came in, saw my drink, thought it was on the menu, ordered one, and, well, I’m a barista now.”
I glanced over at Amber. “You’re okay with this?”
She shrugged, kicking back in her chair. “I’m still getting paid.”
“Cappuccino art?” Phillip questioned pleasantly, sliding over a cup to me.
Which featured a heart in the center.
I shouldn’t have spent yesterday worried about if they could run the café without me. I should’ve been worried they could run the café better than me. I raised the cup to my lips and took a sip. “Oh my God, you’re amazing.”
Phillip beamed. “That’s the reaction I usually get.”
“Ugh,” Aspen said with a mock gag while Leon mimicked him. “I just threw up in my mouth a little.”
“Don’t make me take the compliment back,” I warned Phillip, before glancing through the glass at the cat room, where I saw my mother with her leg propped up. “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s fine,” Amber assured me. “A woman from the shelter stopped by looking for someone to take care of two kittens and—”
Oh my God, kittens?
“And she’s gone,” Amber finished in amusement as I rushed into the cat room, barely able to contain my excitement.
In her arms, Mom held a dozing, tiny gray-and-white kitten. I covered my mouth to contain the little squeak that threatened to come out when I noticed the cute, dark smudge in the middle of his nose.
Sometimes, after all the lemons, life gave you kittens.
“He’s so small,” I whispered, admiring his pink paw pads.
“Inez from the shelter called,” Mom told me.
“The mother died, and only two kittens survived. Inez was desperate to find someone who’d be available to bottle-feed them.
” She nodded at the empty formula bottle sitting next to her on the table.
“I figured there’s not much for me to do at the moment, so I could take care of them.
At least until we see what happens with the livestream and where we go from there. ”
Where we go from there. By that, she meant, If we have to close our doors and can’t take care of them anymore.
I looked down at the kitten again, feeling a mixture of emotions. I was glad we could help now—but at the same time, this would be another loss if it all went wrong.
I’d already have to say goodbye to Jake.
What if everything we planned still wasn’t enough?
Mom met my eyes as if she could sense my thoughts.
“This is still being there, Lucy. I need you to remember that, okay? And I’m glad to see you’re doing better today.
” Mom eyed my lace dress and desert wedges.
“You only wear that outfit when you’re feeling good.
I’m happy you got to take your time this morning and sleep in. ”
“Even though I was late?”
“For good reason,” Mom pointed out. She studied my face. “I also would’ve understood if you didn’t come in at all. You missing today wouldn’t have taken away from all the other things you do—and have always done—for me and this place.”
I glanced back through the glass at Amber and the boys. I wasn’t here this morning, and things turned out okay, despite my worry. Mom got new foster kittens, but she dealt with it without me, despite her crutches.
My fears about my home not always being here still held me tight, but even so, I could feel their grip begin to loosen, just a bit.
I had watched Mom get hurt and this place go down, seen so many abandoned cats come in as living proof that people and love fall through.
It felt like I’d been working as hard as I could to prove I wasn’t like them—and to protect everything that mattered to me, even if it meant losing some of the joy that came from following my own dreams.
And while I’d still do anything for this place and Mom, maybe I didn’t have as much to prove as I’d thought.
“See?” Mom said teasingly, as she noticed the look on my face. “You weren’t here to hold the world up, and it’s still spinning safely.”
I let out a laugh at her unexpected—but true—statement. Putting it that way made my worries about leaving sound smaller. What if my being at The Tiny Tiger wasn’t what would keep it going? And whether I was there or miles away, did my anxiety about it really change anything?
I felt a boost of confidence, before realizing something else. “Wait, you mentioned two kittens. Where’s the other one?”
“She kept on distracting her brother while he was eating, so I had Jake take her to Rumple’s room,” Mom told me.
I made my way down the hall, only to pause a step before the doorway, torn. I wanted to see the new kitten, but I also hadn’t spoken to Jake—not since yesterday when I said . . .
Okay, well, I didn’t remember what I said, because, wow, that allergy medication was strong. Someone needed to alert the CIA that there’s a new DIY truth serum out there.
But I knew I’d said a lot, most of which I probably shouldn’t have.
I forced my feet to start moving, a dozen speeches and game plans flitting through my mind, but they all stopped mid-draft as soon as I entered the room.
Jake stood by the window, bottle-feeding a calico kitten in his arms.
He’d taken off his plaid outer shirt to wrap around the kitten as he cradled her, leaving him in a plain black fitted tee that skimmed his toned arms and the long, lean lines of his torso. Meanwhile, the kitten’s teeny-tiny little paws kneaded the soft shirt-turned-blanket as she drank.
Remember, I told myself, Jake’s a bad idea. You can’t like him like that anymore.
Despite this timely reminder, instead of looking away, my treacherous, traitorous gaze met Jake’s across the room.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. It was like the moment of silence when you set a vinyl record on a turntable, and the record spins soundlessly as the needle tries to find the proper groove.
As if sensing a shift in the atmosphere, the kitten in Jake’s arms took a break to study me with wide, baby-blue eyes—the color all kittens have.
The color I know she’d lose not long from now.
“You feeling any better today?” Jake asked cautiously.
“I am, thanks,” I replied, just as carefully.
Why were we being so guarded, like this balance between us was something delicate?
“Thank you too for, you know, pretty much everything yesterday,” I told him. Why did I sound so stilted? We were several years and too many stories past that. “I appreciate it. You didn’t have to do any of that.”
He shook his head. “I did.”
Jake didn’t make it sound like a chore, though. It sounded more like a something he couldn’t stop himself from doing.
Carefully, I held my index finger out toward the kitten in his arms, letting her say hello. I gave Jake’s shirt-turned-blanket-slash-napkin a knowing look, before glancing up at him sideways.
“Got you wrapped around her paw already, I see,” I commented, trying to get back the easiness and lightness between us. I grinned down at the kitten. “Good job.”
“Like she doesn’t have you too,” Jake replied, watching as I dabbed the formula dripping off the kitten’s delicate white whiskers.
“I was with your mom when the shelter lady came and talked about how there was nowhere else they could go because the shelters are so overcrowded.” He shook his head, a frown touching his lips.
“There are so many cats who need homes, and they’ve been waiting for months.
She said she’s trying her hardest to keep them out of the kill shelter, and I just . . .”
He looked back down at the kitten in his arms, who gazed up at him like he was everything—which wasn’t too far from the truth. She was just meeting the world now. Jake was one of the first people she was seeing, and hopefully she’d only have to encounter people just as kind.