I hold my breath, trying to stop my heart from panicking. Kyle hasn’t contacted me in months—since a few weeks after I finally found the strength to leave him.
But seeing his name on my screen is what I imagine an arrow to the gut would feel like. It’s sharp and sudden and it burns through my whole body.
I haven’t been in any trouble.Hewas the trouble I got away from.
Slowly, I force a deep breath through my lungs. I pull oxygen in and count to five before letting it out again. Then I turn off my phone.
***
Peeking around the person in front of me at Maggie’s, I count the almond croissants left. I’ll get one unless this fancy businessman is about to order five. The sound of the espresso grinder fills the coffee shop, and the nutty, earthy aroma surrounds me. I inhale a deep breath through my nose, hoping the caffeine will transfer right into my respiratory system this morning.
Sleep was slow to come last night after the message from my ex. It would’ve been great to fall asleep smiling about my goofy family, but instead, my brain went down a Kyle spiral that had me picking at my cuticles and tossing in bed.
After barely sleeping, I woke to another message from him, sent at 2:17 a.m.
Kyle:Haven’t heard back from you. Where are you?
My soul was a wasteland after I left him. Just dusty soil where he had ripped every flower out from the roots and left no life. No color.
It has taken every day of the last six months to rejuvenate that soil and breathe life back into it. I’m finally discovering who the real Millie is, and I hate that I’m faced with having to interact with him again.
The man in front of me finishes his order and moves to the side as Maggie struts out from the back with a tray of fresh almond croissants. She winks when she sees my big eyes.
“How many are you having this morning?” She slides the trayinto the display window, her signature overalls and apron dusted with flour.
I tilt my head, debating. “It might be a two-croissant morning.”
She smiles and puts two from the new batch into a bag for me and then leans her hands on the counter, her arms covered in intricate, colorful tattoos.
“Maggie, you’re a miracle worker.” I open the brown bag and close my eyes as I sniff the freshly baked pastry.
A barista delivers my coffee order, and I pay for my breakfast. As I’m closing my wallet, a sweet voice shouts, “Hey, Ms. Millie,” from behind me.
I turn around to find Eloise waving me over to their table, her untamed hair flying back and forth as she almost falls out of her seat. Avery and Finn are sitting with her near the window, and he looks too big for the table, hunched over between the girls like the Beast trying to eat dinner across from Belle.
As I approach, Finn stands and pulls an empty chair from the table next to theirs, pushing it into an open spot. “Join us.”
“That’s okay.” I shake my head. “You all enjoy your breakfast. I don’t want to intrude.”
“Please,” Eloise begs, pulling my wrist toward her.
Finn flashes me a secret smirk that I can’t quite interpret.
My body and brain war against each other, clashing over whether joining their breakfast is a breach of the line.
But Avery makes the decision for me when she stands from her seat and pulls me toward the empty one, and I drop into it.
I start unpacking my first croissant and smile at the girls. “Having a good morning?”
Eloise nods emphatically. “Uncle Finn said we can have breakfast here instead of at home.”
I lean over and whisper, “That’s because this place has the best breakfast treats.”
As we eat, Eloise tells me about how they had to go out for dinner last night after Finn burned their food so badly that the smoke alarms were going off. I give them a few sneak peeks into what we’re doing at camp today, then show them a video my mom sent this morning of two baby otters swimming with their mama.
But throughout my conversations with the girls, my eyes keep dragging back to Finn. He’s quiet most of the time, brushing crumbs from Eloise’s cheek and comforting Avery when she spills her milk. Every movement seems natural. He’s so comfortable with them, and they seem completely at ease with him, teasing him and making him chuckle at their versions of the stories.
And the sinking suspicion creeps into my bones that I don’t think I can keep filling in that asshole checklist.
