Page 25 of Fresh Canvas
While I liked to see the best in people, Val was argumentative and rude at best. My patience with him was on wafer-thin ice.
My sneakers squeaked against the black and white tiled floors, the sound accompanied by my suitcase’s whirring wheels. O’Hare International Airport looked stunning. Glass archways curved overhead, faint whispers of pink introducing the sunrise. I yawned.
Coffee. Must have coffee.
My zombie instincts guided me through crowds of passengers toward a coffee shop. Waiting in line, I prayed there was enough time before they called my boarding group. A chiming ringtone vibrated in my back pocket.
“Hello?” I yawned.
“Sweetie! Did you make it?” Mom’s voice was chipper, despite the early hour.
“Yes. I’m waiting outside my gate for coffee. Oh, please don’t forget to send Anthony’s research paper with him to school. It’s the Abraham Lincoln one taped to the fridge.”
“Already packed. I saw it on the calendar.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re incredible. Is Anthony up?”
“Yup, he’s just getting out of bed.”
As the barista prepared my iced coffee, I spent the next few minutes chatting with my son and listing off reminders, including how much I loved him.
He would leave for Europe soon, and my gut twisted eachtime I thought about it. However irrational it was, a deep fear of something happening to him had sent me into full helicopter-parent mode.
For the millionth time, Ryan’s ominous text rang through my thoughts. While I wasn’t quite sure what he had meant by “change of home life,” his threat had been clear. If I screwed anything up, this custody battle could start right over.
Gripping my iced coffee, I tried to shake off my building anxiety as I walked toward the gate. I took a deep swig, closing my eyes in satisfaction. Icy liquid suddenly attacked my face as I slammed into the solid chest of a man.
My cup crumpled on impact and fell to the floor after a frigid wave splattered my eyelids. I wiped repeatedly at my eyes, mourning every last drop of caffiene that dripped uselessly off my fingers.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I said. Blinking up, I met the lethal stare of Val Russo.
“Are you kidding me?” His words grated through clenched teeth as he took in the mess now covering his starched button-up.
Any embarrassment I felt hardened into sour irritation. I was in no mood for apologies. Not for him, anyway.
“Areyoukiddingme?! That was my coffee! In fact, I take that apology back.”
Val’s mouth popped open. “Excuse me? Who runs into someone, then takesbackan apology?”
“I only apologize to decent people who deserve it, thank you very much. You happen to be neither of those things.”
Brushing past his incredulous expression, I swiped a few napkins and tried in vain to mop up my face and chest. Thankfully, the stain on my black hoodie wouldn’t show as badly as it did on Val’s stuffy white button-up.
Should I have snapped at him like that? Probably not. But this wasRusso. The type of guy who might tell kids Santa wasn’t real while he ate their Halloween candy.
And…it couldhave had something to do with sleep deprivation and Ryan’s threats, but it was probably mostly Val.
A voice on the overhead speakers called my boarding group, postponing my search for coffee. Groaning, I trudged to the gate.
Kate waved excitedly, her smile faltering as she took in my scowl. “Sheesh, what happened to you?” She scanned the wet stain across my chest.
“Don’t. Ask.”
Seconds later, Val joined the boarding line behind me.
Kate took in Val’s soiled shirt before pressing her laugh into a hard line. “Got it.”
I queued up my boarding pass on my phone and ignored the man behind me. After the gate worker scanned my pass, I crossed the jetway. A male flight attendant greeted us, then directed Kate and Blythe to the left aisle of the plane.
