Sloane narrows her eyes. “You look five minutes away from hurling.”
“Then I look exactly how I feel.”
Her attention slides past me, landing on the younger woman. “I see you’ve got a new sidekick.”
I snort. “Possibly. This is Kia, Oliver’s sister. She’s staying with him for a while.”
Sloane gives her a casual chin lift. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sloane. What can I get you?”
With a tilt of her head, Kia studies the menu board. “What’s a dirty hustler? It sounds… interesting.”
Sloane grins. “That just so happens to be one of Rina’s favorites. It’s basically rocket fuel in a cup. Espresso, dark chocolate, and more caffeine than is probably legal.”
My hand drifts automatically to my stomach. “For obvious reasons, I won’t be having that anytime soon. Unless the goal is to give the baby a head start in skating drills.”
Kia’s eyes widen before she laughs. “Right. Smart choice. You don’t want to start them on caffeine before they’re even born.”
“Exactly,” I say dryly. “I figure I’ll wait at least until they’re in kindergarten.”
“You’re the only one who could make morning sickness sound like a punchline,” Sloane says with a shake of her head.
Kia clears her throat before glancing back at the board. “I, um… I’ll have what Rina’s having.”
“Two herbal teas with scones coming right up,” Sloane says, grabbing mugs.
Once our drinks and pastries are in hand, we claim a table near the front window as sunlight spills across the polished wood.
Callie pops out from the back with a dusting of flour smudged across her shirt and streaked on her cheek like war paint. “I didn’t know you were stopping in this morning.”
I motion toward Kia. “I had to introduce Oliver’s sister to a Chicago staple.”
“Welcome to the only place in the city that runs on caffeine and sarcasm,” Callie says warmly, sliding onto the chair across from us.
Kia lets out a small laugh. “Sarcasm I can handle. Not sure about the caffeine, though.”
“Don’t worry,” Callie says, grinning. “Sloane makes herbal tea taste like it belongs in a real coffee shop. It’s practically a miracle.”
“She also serves judgment with every cup, but that part’s free of charge,” I add loud enough for our friend to hear.
“I accept tips in lieu of payment,” she hollers back.
Callie smirks. “As you can see, customer service is our strong suit around here. Plus, now that we know you’re more like family, the carbs and unsolicited advice are always on the house.”
Their laughter bubbles around me, and for a second, I forget about the uncertainty waiting outside this little pocket of safety. The worry and fear, the endless what-ifs all fall away, replaced by the simple comfort of belonging. It’s strange how something as ordinary as shared laughter with women who understand you can feel like the safest place in the world.
The easy banter earns another laugh from Kia, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She doesn’t touch her tea, only swirls it in the mug, gaze fixed on the dark liquid like it might hold the answers she’s searching for.
It hits me again that she’s pretending.
Pretending to be fine.
Pretending she isn’t carrying something heavy enough to drag her under. I just hope she opens up to Oliver and lets him help her through whatever she’s struggling with.
Callie studies her. “So, Kia, are you in school, or are you one of those free-spirited gap-year types?”
The younger woman hesitates, the question hanging between them. “I was in school,” she says finally. “But it stopped feeling like the right place for me.”
Something in her tone sounds too solemn for her age. Callie’s smile fades into something gentler before she rises to greet a customer at the counter.
