“Maybe you will.”
He huffs and smoke curls around us.
“Wish it so, and it will be,” he says as he presses his thumb on my mark.
I don’t want to go home. Not yet.
But Ihaveto. There’s no escaping tomorrow morning.
My gaze bounces between his eyes and I find the same yearning there in him.
“I wish to go home.”
As soon as I say the words, fire burns through my arm and the air around me thrums. Rhazan gets fuzzy in the haze of all the vibrations. It thrums again, and with a pop, I’m back in my room.
eighteen
Open For Business! Customers: 1…Kinda
After what feels like fifty hours of cleaning, the espresso machine sputters to life and makes its first coffee in probably decades on Thursday. Two days of practicing have made me passable at making coffee. Between cleanings and coffee brewing, Ace helps me stock the warded containers in the back with all the things Nai Nai ordered. I should’ve never showed her how to buy things online…
Saturday comes before I know it, and it’s time to open the shop for the first time in years. Nerves bounce around in my stomach as I run down the stairs from the apartment, my hair still slightly wet. It’s six-thirty-five and I was supposed to unlock the doors five minutes ago. I don’t even have the espresso machine on.
I run to the door like I see those kids in movies run for the tree loaded with presents on Christmas Day. Except I’m running to an empty door…
No one. Not a single person waiting.
Well, it’s Saturday and this is a smaller town, not to mention I didn’t get the social media page going until a few nights ago, and, oh, yeah, I haven’t gotten the word out at all. I really should’ve let Lacey do that campaign at the public library, but it feelswrongto use her so much when all she’s getting is free coffee.
I flip the “Open” sign with a sigh and go behind the counter to start everything up. Six thirty-five turns into eight, and I spend most of my early morning tooling around with Boogle ads to see if I can get the word out about our grand opening. I can’t afford any of them, so it’s kind of a waste of time.
The ephemeral bell over the door rings and I jolt up from my phone to see Lacey bounding in with a huge smile.
“Happy opening day, friend!” she shouts, holding up a bottle of champagne.
I beam. “Thank you. Would you like to be the first customer?”
The stairs creak overhead and I hear Ace shout, “No, that’ll be me!”
I snort a laugh. “You and what money?”
“I didn’t say I was apayingcustomer. Not like Lacey is, either,” he says, scratching his bed head as he approaches the counter.
Lacey hands me the champagne bottle and I stuff it in the mini fridge under the bar.
“So then, what’ll it be?” I ask him.
He grumbles happily, “Caramel macchiato.”
“Coming right up!”
The espresso machine gives me a bit of grief as I try to attach the portafilter, so I mash down the grounds a little harder and try again. It slots in this time, and I smile, patting the device like a good little boy. It spits happily and I pour the shot into the cup with two pumps of vanilla syrup. I heat the whole milk with the steam wand, dipping the carafe in and out to make sure it’s thoroughly fluffed.
“So, Ace,” Lacey starts. “How did you get your nickname?”
I glance over my shoulder at him. I know it’s sort of a sensitive subject, and if he wants an out, I’ll give it to him.
“I have a criminal record, and my record ID has A C E in it, so, Ace.” He seesaws his head, then grins. “But also, I am an ace at the crimes I commit so, it works.”
