Page 137 of Sweet Everythings

“I do.” I tunneled my hands into his hair, the soft strands weaving through my fingers.

Then that proud, aloof, ghost of a man bowed his forehead to mine. “You’d take me like this. Broken.”

I tilted my chin. Forehead to forehead, eye to eye, nose to nose, I gave him my truth. “I’ll take you exactly as you are. I’m yours.”

A Good Father

Hope

My heels clicking across the floor as I exited the elevator acted as a metronome.

Job-less.

Job-less.

Job-less.

I hefted my tote higher on my shoulder and thanked God for the fifth time at least that I wasn’t leaving with one of those tell-tale boxes. Already, the foyer felt like a foreign place. Surreal. I wondered if I had ever belonged.

Coffee, sugar, and vanilla beckoned me as I passed Giovanni’s. Peeking through the doorway, I caught the older man laughing with one of his staff members. Always a smile for everyone.

I looked down at the floor. Other than Eloise, Giovanni was the only other person I wanted to say good-bye to. And I didn’t even know his last name.

I stepped back out of the doorway. Shifted from one foot to the other.

I didn’t want to do this now.

But I had no intention of coming back. Not for a long while.

Coming to a decision, I pivoted and sailed through the door with a smile plastered on my face.

“Heavenly Hope! I didn’t expect to see you at this time of day. You want your usual?”

Approaching the counter, I fought the trembling of my lips, the sting in my eyes. “Double everything, coffee maestro!” I bravely declared.

“Ah.” His wise, old eyes softened with understanding. “I double the toppings for you, heavenly Hope. What has you looking so sad and carrying such a big bag?”

I tried to laugh but snorted instead. Which made me laugh in truth.

His eyes crinkled back at me. “You are leaving Anton’s?”

I pressed my lips together and nodded tightly.

“Sit down,” he ordered, the words running together, sounding like ‘siddown’. “I bring you coffee.”

“I’m just going to take it to-go, Giovanni,” I replied.

He held up a palm. “Give an old man five minutes. You’re young. You can spare them.” He winked.

I shook my head at him, my smile genuine. “How can I say not to that?”

He smiled back smugly. “You can’t.”

I slid into a corner table, hoping against hope not to run into anyone. Only a minute passed before he slid in across from me, his own coffee in hand.

“No whipped cream for you?” I teased.

He patted his belly. “I can’t afford it. Anyways,” he continued. “My sweetness is at home.”

---