Page 92 of Rent Free

He held out the Tic-Tacs and Atlas took them and handed him twelve.

“Hey!” I giggled at the two. “Those were mine.”

Atlas’s eyes met mine. “Listen, this is a momentous occasion. The kid deserves a hundred of those things.”

I shook my head and caught my purse up as Forest was busy eating all of my mints.

Looping the purse around my shoulder, I readjusted everything in my purse, taking the keys out, and handing them to Atlas.

He caught them in his hand, then pulled the glasses out of his pocket and slipped them on.

“Forgot about them,” he murmured quietly, sounding… at peace.

As if all he’d needed was to hear Forest acknowledging who he was to him.

“Ready?” I asked. “Because now that you mentioned breakfast, all of a sudden I really need it.”

His lips twitched, but he got up, bringing Forest with him, and said, “Let’s go.”

We wound up at a mom and pop diner that happened to be only minutes from his place.

“Have you been here before?” I wondered as we walked in.

“Three?” the woman behind the counter asked on the heels of my question.

“Yes, ma’am.” Atlas nodded.

“Yes, ma’am!” Forest crowed.

I had a permanent smile around this kid, I swear.

“There should be a booth back by the window that’ll fit your party.” The woman waved toward the left side.

Atlas threaded his big body through the tightly packed, occupied tables.

Atlas said a few hellos as he passed, and I smiled but didn’t open my mouth.

Every table was occupied by an old man. Sometimes in groups of two and three, and sometimes on their own.

Was it normal for old men to meet at diners for breakfast?

Atlas put Forest down into the booth and sat beside him. Meanwhile, I took the seat across from the pair and reached for the menus that were held vertical by a bottle of syrup, ketchup, and sugar.

“Coffee?” The same woman showed with a coffee mug in her hand.

“No,” Forest answered.

The woman’s lips twitched. “And what would you like, little man?”

Forest looked up at Atlas, as if he didn’t have a single clue.

“Milk?” Atlas asked. “Chocolate milk? Orange juice?”

“Choca milk!” he yelled.

Yelling seems to be his normal pitch, I thought with a grin.

“And you two?” The woman wiggled her coffee pot.

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