“You’re a bad liar.”
She stares at me as I chew slowly and mechanically. She laughs, probably taking that as confirmation that she’s right—I am a bad liar.
“So, you wanna share?” she asks as she crosses her legs and places her hands in her lap so elegantly.
“Not really . . .” I linger on my words, spoon slowly cutting another bite. I smear the bite in a pile of syrup and scoop it up.
“Fine with me”—clearing her throat as she whispers—“mind if I do?”
She wants to share? Now? She waits, probably expecting me to voice my disinterest to converse over waffles. But I see on her face sheneedsto have this conversation.
I bite down on my spoon and nod for her to continue, reminding myself that this is my job and whether I like it or not, my issues need to either be handled or put in the back of my mind so I can focus solely on the client. Naomi isn’t a client, necessarily, but as I watch her shift in her seat uncomfortably, eyes moving from me to the door then down to her hands, it’s clear that in this moment I need to treat her as one.
I wipe the syrup off my face with my napkin and sit up straight. “Please, go ahead.”
“I want to talk to you about Devon,” she says looking at the plate of waffles between us.
“Ms. Johnson, I am not at liberty to discuss what happens in a client session. If there are issues at home, I can offer to—”
“Oh no, it’s not that,” she says, waving her hands at me. “I respect Devon’s privacy, and appreciate what you’re doing for him. Truly.” She places her hand over her heart, a sincere smile pulling at the corners of her eyes.
“Just doing my job.” I shrug off the delight her appreciation brings me and continue, “So, what seems to be the issue then?”
“That’s the thing.” Her voice starts out low then as if she can’t contain herself, it builds as she says, excitedly, “There aren’t any!”
“Aren’t any what? Issues?” I question.
Her head moves up and down in an excited nod. “That’s right, there aren’t any issues.” She beams at me, revealing an insanely white smile. I’m almost distracted by it as she continues, “I mean, he’s still a teenager. It’s not perfect by any means. But for the last few weeks, things have been completely different. He comes home on time, no more fighting with his dad. He actually gave me a hug yesterday! Ahug!” She is grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t know what you’ve said to him and I don’t want to know. I just have to tell you how grateful I am.” Reaching across the table with both arms she rests her hands on the table, palms facing up motioning for me to take them. I pause, remembering that I barely know this woman, before placing my hands in hers. Her grip is strong and serious as she looks at me, tears building in her eyes. “Thank you.” She sniffles. “You are making such a difference.”
I don’t know if it’s the crying mom sitting across from me, or the stress of the morning thus far, but her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I choke back my own tears as I squeeze her hands—a wordless, “you’re welcome”—before releasing them.
A moment passes as we both dab at our tears, giggling at our emotions.
“So” —she waves at Sam to bring her coffee—“tell me what’s going on with you and Ben.”
“You heard about that, huh?” Mentally rolling my eyes at Devon and his loud mouth. I guess it’s a good thing he’s opening up to his mom, but did it have to be about my love life?
Chuckling as she nods. “Pretty much everyone has.”
She winks at Sam, who has brought a full pot of coffee and an extra mug to the table. He gives me a knowing grin before retreating back to the bar.
Everyone.
My speculation of who put Benny and I’s relationship out there for the grapevine lands on Sam as well.
I feel ridiculous thinking that no one knew about us.
“Well, I guess we’re dating now,” I say, placing my chin in my hand, attempting to hide the giddy grin that’s no doubt painted on my face.DatingBenny. I bite down on my lip to fight the urge to squeal with excitement like a lovestruck teenager.
“Is it serious?” she asks, while stirring her coffee. Her demeanor has changed from cheery to serious as she waits for my answer—her body language is tense and on guard.
Is she being protective? Of course, she is. The history she has with Benny and the man that he is deserves her protection.
“I think so,” I say honestly, my smile hurting my cheeks.
"Good . . . please don't break his heart." Her tone is serious and stern as she reaches for the coffee pot. "He's a good guy and he loves his people—they are everything to him. I can only imagine how he will be with alady friend." She lets a smile break through as she fills our mugs.
My heart swells at the thought of Benny and everything he does for hispeople. And the fact thatIam one of those people—one of the people he wants to care for.
