Page 99 of To Believe In You
Shane ticked more of those boxes than anyone else.
* * *
Matt drummedhis fingers on the laminate tabletop. Maybe he should’ve found a church service to attend instead of meeting with Nadia first thing on Sunday, but he wouldn’t have internalized a thing he’d heard from the pulpit with this hanging over his head.
The old diner harkened back to the nineties with faded mauve and teal décor. Morning sunshine streamed through the generous windows to highlight the other patrons, mostly his parents’ age or older. A round of laughter rose from his left as a waitress—also his mom’s age—delivered a steaming plate of French toast to the table on his right.
Normally, the butter and maple syrup wafting on the air would tempt him, but he hadn’t come for the food.
“What can I get ya, hon?” The waitress pulled an order pad from her apron pocket.
Nadia used to order pancakes with fresh strawberries and whipped cream every chance she got. But he wouldn’t presume to order for her when she likely wouldn’t feel any more like eating than he did.
“A glass of water”—for Nadia—“and a coffee, for now.”
“One cup or a carafe?”
He didn’t want to get anything wrong today. Nadia had enjoyed coffee, but only the milky, sweet kind. She’d used up all the sugar packets in his hotel room on more than one occasion. A dish on the table brimmed with packets of sugar and alternatives, and another dish held creamer.
“A carafe and two mugs, please. I’m waiting for someone.”
“Comin’ up.” She stuffed the order pad in her pocket and started for the counter.
Another table waved, and she greeted them by name.
Seemed like everyone here was a regular but him.
Regular. Had he ever been a normal person?
He rubbed his thumb over the letters on the back of his fingers, as if he could erase the wordhatein time for Nadia’s arrival.
“Matt.” The smoky tones of Nadia’s voice cut through time, instantly familiar.
He dropped his hands beneath the table.
She stood at the end of the booth, a large beige purse over her shoulder. She wore her hair down today, and loosely rolled waves hovered just above her shoulders. Her face had changed in ways he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Still her, yet different.
She shifted from one foot to the other. “I was surprised to hear from you. You’re in town for something?”
“To talk to you.” He motioned to the seat across from him.
“Excuse me, hon.” The waitress dipped in with a water, the carafe of coffee, and two mugs. “You need a menu?”
“No, thanks. Coffee’s fine.” Nadia licked her lips and scooted into the booth.
“Holler if you need anything.” The waitress disappeared again.
Nadia poured herself coffee, selected one of the natural sugar packets, and dumped in the contents. “What can I do for you?”
How could she remain calm and cool while facing the prospect that Axel’s father was about to interfere in their lives? Maybe the boy wasn’t his. Krissy could’ve been wrong about the boy’s smile. He hadn’t seen a strong resemblance himself.
“You look good.” She looked him up and down, as far as the table allowed. “Rehab’s going to stick this time?”
She’d been following news about him. He ought to pour himself coffee too—or maybe claim the water, since she didn’t seem interested—but doing either would mean using his shaking hands. “I’ve been sober over a year now. How are you?”
“I went and found a normal life for myself. Seemed like the best thing I could do at the time, but I am sorry about not saying goodbye.”
“I’m sorry about a lot of things too.”
