He grins, that crooked smile I fell in love with back in high school. “I often am. Now, how about we salvage what’s left of our dinner?”
We settle at the plastic covered kitchen table, our plates piled high. Greg reaches for the soy sauce, accidentally knocking over his water glass in the process.
“Shit,” he mutters, jumping up to grab some paper towel.
I can’t help laughing. “And here I thought I was the clumsy one tonight.”
He shoots me a playful glare as he mops up the spill. “Hey, I’m just trying to make you feel better about the rice incident.”
I smile and shovel in a forkful of chicken. As we eat, I start to relax. The food is barely warm now, but it’s good, and Greg entertains me with a story about a new client. I know he’s trying to take my mind off things, but his face lights up as he explains the challenges of helping someone get back on top of their finances. The clients are looking at debt reduction and the wife is looking for some casual work to bring in some extra income now their kid is in school.
“You know,” I say, putting my fork down, “I know I’ve mentioned it before, but maybe now’s the time to look into getting some help at CC’s. Even temporarily, to ease the load a bit.”
Greg nods. “That’s not a bad idea. It would be one less thing for you to worry about.”
Some of the weight lifts from my shoulders. “Yeah, exactly.” I pause, gathering my thoughts. I want to clear the air about what’s really got me so upset. “What I said about the surrogacy… I just want it so much, you know?”
“With everything else going on, we could consider pushing it back a bit?” Greg says.
I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “We don’t have to do that. We’ve got a lot on our plates right now, and I just need to talk about my concerns and not let things bottle up.”
Greg nods. “I want us to be in the best possible place when we start this journey, and we will be.”
“But it’s not only that,” I say. “I’m disappointed that it might not work out as quickly as we hoped, and it may not even be possible in the foreseeable future.”
He offers a tentative smile. “I get it. I know how frustrating it is that things aren’t falling into place. I just have to keep positive, you know? Things will work out.”
God, he always knows how to say exactly the right thing, and his unwavering support is exactly what I need right now. I clear my throat, suddenly feeling emotional.
“Hey, Greg?” I say, my voice a little rougher.
His brows draw together. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for being such a grump lately. You’ve been amazing through all of this.”
His expression softens. “Cam, we’re in this together. The good, the bad, and even food spilled all over the kitchen floor.”
I huff a laugh. “God, what did I do to deserve you?”
“Must’ve been something pretty terrible in a past life,” Greg quips, but his eyes are full of warmth.
Chapter Nine
Cam
I’m at the coffee shop after a week that’s been so much better than the last. We have the place to ourselves after closing early, but it’s not a chore to stay back with Greg keeping me company. I lean against the counter watching him pore over the list of potential new Christmas drinks for CC’s menu. The late afternoon sun streams through the large front windows, casting a soft glow across his golden curls. I could stand here and stare at him for hours.
“What do you think about the gingerbread maple latte?” he asks, looking up, blue eyes sparkling. “We could top it with whipped cream, a dash of nutmeg, or even some maple drizzle.”
I smile at his excitement. “That sounds awesome. Festive and delicious. We could also try the salted caramel mocha—chocolate, caramel, a pinch of sea salt. Decadent but not too sweet.”
“Yes!” Greg grins like a kid who can’t wait to get a treat. “Let’s try the gingerbread one first, though. I can almost taste it already.”
I chuckle and push off the counter. “One gingerbread maple latte, coming right up. Want to put on some Christmas tunes to really get us in the spirit?”
He scrolls through a playlist on his phone, and soon the first notes of “Jingle Bells” fill the space as I get to work. I grind the beans, tamp the espresso, and steam the milk until it’s velvety smooth. Greg chooses a tall footed glass with a handle. I pour the shots of espresso into the glass, stirring in ground ginger, nutmeg, allspice, and adding a dash of maple syrup, before topping off with the frothed milk. I finish the whole thing off with a generous swirl of whipped cream, a drizzle of syrup, and a sprinkle of cinnamon.
“Alright, taste test time!” I slide it across to Greg with a flourish. “One gingerbread latte, as requested by my handsome husband.”
