Page 82 of Of Literature and Lattes
Jeremy tried to convince himself of this as he drove to Park Ridge to take Becca back to Krista. Becca listened to her favorite music in the back seat, and he cycled through the last few days. Everything had gone smoothly—better than smooth. The tide was turning and maybe, just maybe, it would all work out.
When he’d picked up Becca yesterday for their daddy-daughter night, Krista said nothing about their conversation, nor had she brought up the move. And Becca confirmed they hadn’t gone to North Carolina either.
Krista had been warmer yesterday too, asking if he wanted an extra night with Becca. She asked how the shop was going and what he thought of her Instagram posts. He didn’t have an answer for the last one. He’d stopped checking Instagram after his arrest video had gone viral. But he checked when he got home, and her new posts astounded him. Over the past several days she had posted microblogs about their parenting, their cooperation, and their mutual respect. So now—between the posts and her attitude yesterday—he’d allowed a glimmer of hope to grow.
And if that wasn’t enough, Andante’s day-to-day trend was heading in the right direction. Granted, the percentages remained far less than ideal, but that could change, trends could grow. They could go viral too. Janet thought so—at least that’s what she said when she hung the book club poster in his front window two days ago. Eight customers had already signed up. And all that happened on the same day that Madeline called and left the message that the Winsome Police had reported to her that, while he might be needed for details later, he was in the clear. They even returned his financial records.
Yes, Jeremy thought, it was all good.
He sighed as he kicked his assessment of life up a notch. It was humming along much better than merely “good.” Alyssa was in it.
When she had called the night before to say she was headed to his place, he’d been so excited he put Becca to bed early, just to have more time with Alyssa and learn about her four days at the FBI. Once again he dashed through his small apartment, making sure it looked as good as possible.
Becca, of course, popped out of bed ten minutes later with an “I’m not tired,” ruining his romantic plans just as Alyssa crossed the threshold.
So while Jeremy popped popcorn, Becca showed Alyssa how to make Smurf houses. He watched with wonder as Alyssa crawled around the floor with his daughter, and suspected that’s what love looked like—felt like too.
Two hours later they all settled onto his couch, popcorn long gone and his entire floor covered with book houses, and he listened as Alyssa readSylvester and the Magic Pebbleto them both.
Becca finally yawned so long and loud Jeremy hoisted her into his arms. “Bed, little one.”
“You can keep that if you want.” Becca pointed down to the book still resting on Alyssa’s lap.
“Why would you give this to me?” she asked. “It’s your book.”
“You said at the park that you liked it. That’s why I asked you to read it.”
“I do like it.” Alyssa gripped the book to her chest. “Thank you. If I borrow it, I promise to return it.”
Becca nodded and Jeremy carried her to bed.
Anticipating a long evening with Alyssa, Jeremy returned to find her standing at the front door. “You’re leaving?”
She nodded. “I have to be back at the FBI by seven tomorrow. If I wait longer, traffic builds.” She held the book close. “You have a very intuitive daughter.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “I needed this. There’s something so wonderful about the moment Sylvester gets reunited with his parents. It’s the way it should be, right?” Alyssa’s face dropped. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. The book rested between them. “Don’t be. I love that story, and yes, it should be like that. If I lost that with Becca it would break me.”
“That’s just it... I can’t get there, and I’m the one holding back from it. It’s like fog I can’t see through. There is so much I can’t let go of and...” She shook her head. “I’m being silly. Thinking I’ll find answers in a children’s book.”
“There is nothing silly about that. I think Madeline L’Engle’sWrinkle in Timeseries saved me in middle school. There was this sense Meg carried that she didn’t belong—until she found out where she did. Kids’ books are powerful things.” Jeremy dropped a light kiss on her lips.
“See you tomorrow night? I should be done by then—with the FBI, I mean.” She’d smiled at him, her lips still inches from his own.
Alyssa had made it clear in their texts she couldn’t tell him what she was doing, so he didn’t ask. It was enough to have her confide that much to him. “By the look in your eyes, I sense it’s gone well. I’m happy for you. Plan on tomorrow.” Then he really kissed her, just as he’d planned since the moment she’d called hours before.
The bubble of that sweet memory burst as he now turned into Krista’s driveway. She sat, arms wrapped around her knees, on the house’s front cement steps.
He put the car in park and got out. “What’s wrong?”
“Something has to be wrong?” she called too brightly.
He stood by his open car door. “You sit out here when you need to tell me something in person and you don’t want your parents to hear.”
Krista snorted as she stood, brushed off her jeans, and approached his car. “And you ask why I need to move.”
