It is Father's Day. “Sorry to break it to you, but it is.”
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I kept you here yapping. Go, go, wherever you have to go.”
Damn, she’s cute.
“Hey,” I offer, holding her arm and stopping her from spinning in place. “I sat here and asked you to surprise me with a coffee creation. I knew it was Father’s Day. That’s on me.”
She blinks rapidly.
“Is that the reason you looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders?” she asks. “Oh my—” She covers her mouth with her hand. “You know what? Don’t answer that. Sorry.”
I hold her hand this time, stopping her again. “Today is…well, complicated.”
I wishcomplicatedsummed up my feelings, but it’s beyond that. Today is hard…and rough. Today fills me with anger. And I have nobody to blame but myself.
And him.
But none of that will help her, so I hold it all back.
“I already did what I was supposed to do today. And again,Icame here. You just did your job.” I stand before she does and walk to the register.
“You can ring me up, though, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
She rings me up, and as soon as I pay, she scrambles with some things, grabbing two bottles of wine. “These are on me.” She slides them into a bag.
“No, wait?—”
“No, no. I shouldn’t have pried; here you go.” She all but shoves them into my arms.
She lets out a breath, and her eyes track the knock at the door. Her face brightens for a minute before the light leaves her eyes and the color rushes from her cheeks.
She looks somber.
Defeated.
I turn around to see what caused it. Confusion fills my mind, because on the other side of the glass door is a little girl with red pigtails and a big smile, banging on the door. She can’t be more than three, maybe, and she looks so happy to see her.
That’s her daughter, for sure.
It’s clear as day. Same pretty blue-greenish eyes, pretty fire-red hair, and the most perfect round and rosy cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” She exhales. “Especially since I forgot it was Father’s Day.”
Whatever it is about this day that triggers her, I understand. I see the bittersweetness as her eyelids droop and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s okay. Go do what you gotta do. I was just leaving.”
“Thanks for these. Have a good night.” I raise the bag with the wine I won’t drink and push the door open, stepping around the little bundle of cuteness who bursts in.
“Mama!” she shouts, running to her.
Another woman, one with long chestnut curls, studies me with narrowed brown eyes.
“I’m, um, sorry… I was leaving!”
“It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. I’m Allie,” she says, smiling. “Stay!”
“No, no, I really was leaving.” I smile back. “You girls have a good night.”
I walk to my car and head home, away from Baker. Away from her. Away from him, leaving the demons behind in this forsaken town.
