Page 28 of All of Me

I hesitate. “I can work, Brooke. I don’t need–”

“I didn’t say youcouldn’twork,” she interrupts. “I’m just saying no pressure today, alright. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Yes, I do.

But I don’t have the energy to argue with her. Instead, I nod and head to the back to store my things. When I return, Brooke hands me an apron. “You ready?”

I slip it over my head, the motion so familiar that it feels like second nature. “As I’ll ever be.”

For a few minutes, I let myself get lost in the motions, pouring coffee, ringing up customers, wiping down tables. It’s easier than I expected. Maybe I’ll be okay after all.

Then the door opens, and a familiar voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Well, look who’s back!”

I glance up and find Frank Reynolds, one of our regulars, standing in front of the counter with a broad grin. He’s in his mid-fifties, always dressed in the same uniform with a faded baseball cap. A retired mechanic, Frank has been coming here every morning since Brooke opened, ordering the same thing, black coffee and one of Brooke’s famous cinnamon rolls.

I muster up a smile trying to push past the nerves tightening my stomach. “Hey, Frank.”

“Figured you’d forgotten about us,” he teases, resting his elbows on the counter. “Thought I was gonna have to start making my own damn coffee.”

Brooke scoffs from beside me. “You say that like you haven’t been in here every day Callie’s been away.”

Frank smirks. “You’ve got me there. But Callie at least serves it with a smile unlike you, smart mouth.” He turns back to me, his expression softening. “How’s that new baby of yours?”

“She’s good,” I say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “She’s getting bigger every day.”

“Bet she’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” he chuckles.

I huff out a laugh. “Pretty much.”

Frank slides a few bills across the counter. “Well, it’s good to see you back. Place hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Thanks, Frank. It’s good to be back.”

Brooke passes him his coffee and cinnamon roll, and Frank gives me one last nod before heading to his usual seat by the window. I don’t miss when he slips more money than usual into the tip jar before he walks away.

For the first time all morning, I feel steady. Maybe Icando this. Maybe Iwillbe okay. The door opens again, and an older woman steps inside, her face lighting up when she sees me “Callie! You’re back!”

I instantly feel terrible because I cannot, for the life of me, remember her name. “Yep!”

She beams. “And how are those girls of yours? You know, my daughter had her second last year, and she was huge!”

For a moment, I’m put off before realizing it’s her granddaughter she’s saying was huge rather than commenting on the size her daughter was when she was pregnant.Thanks, Mom.

“How big was yours?” Mrs. Whats-Her-Name continues.

“Eight pounds, thirteen ounces.”

“Oh! She’s a big girl! Well, you look great, honey–better than I did after I had my kids, that’s for sure. It took meforeverto lose the weight. My youngest is thirty-one and some days, I still think I’m trying to lose the baby weight,” she jokes.

Brooke steps in smoothly. “She looks amazing, doesn’t she? Total MILF.”

The woman laughs, oblivious to my discomfort at them commenting on my body, although I appreciate the sentiment. “Oh, absolutely!”

Brooke waits until she’s gone before turning to me, her eyes sharp with concern. “You good, babe?”

I let out a slow breath, trying to steady my hands. “Yeah.”

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