Page 130 of Until I Find You

Camilla and I lock eyes. Hard to believe how far we’ve come when the first time we met I could barely crack a smile.

A voice cuts through our conversation. “Jack?”

I glance over at the manager, Effy, a tall black woman with multicolored braids adorned with beads. “Everything okay?”

“Could use your help up front? I’m getting all these questions about the roasts and most of our staff is still studying the handbook, so–”

“I’m on it,” I say with a smile.

She sighs. “Thank you.”

Before I step away, I reach out toward Camilla. “You’re good back here?”

“I’ll be fine. You go ahead.”

I snag a quick kiss before heading back behind the bar. Time moves fast back here. We’re drawing in the neighborhood crowd, but also the coffee connoisseurs, just as I had hoped. I’m answering questions, filling cups, and making lattes. It all blurs together until late afternoon. The crowd is finally starting to thin out because who needs coffee after three, other than me of course.

“Hibiscus latte for Sam!” I call out at the bar and hurry back to the register where a woman waits for me. “How can I help you?” I ask with a labored smile.

“Um, what do you recommend?” she asks, her voice tinged with a slight accent. From her coloring and features, I’d guess she’s Hispanic.

“Well, that depends, how do you drink your coffee?” I ask for maybe the five hundredth time today.

The woman presses her lips together and moves a curl out of her eyes. “I usually take it black. Not too bitter, though.” Her voice almost trembles.

“Well, the Keiki house roast is medium roast that I think you’d like if you’re…” I trail off as I take the woman in fully. She looks so familiar. Dark curls, warm-toned skin, full lips.

“Um…”

“Sorry!” I try to laugh it off. “You just looked familiar. A house blend? Tell you what, I’ll make you a flight and you can taste test, see what you–”

“I’m sorry,” the woman interjects, her eyes low. “You are one of the owners, right?”

I stop. “Yes, I am.”

“And you know…Camilla, right?”

My heart stops when her eyes lift and lock with mine. I know those eyes like the back of my hand. They are the eyes of the woman that I’ve given my life too. This is not a coincidence.

We don’t say anything. We don’t need to. Something about this moment is just telepathy. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

This is Camilla’s birth mother.

And I’m not sure how she realizes either that I’m somehow in the know, but her face softens, lips tipping down, eyes widening.

It’s a split-second decision.

But it’s the only one I can make.

“Come with me.”

28

CAMILLA

“So,I’ve been sending out my resume,” Abigail says, holding her bitten mal asada aloft. “And I knew the market would be tough, but I didn’t think it would be this tough.”

“You know you always have a job here if you need one,” I explain.

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