He looked at me for a second, then nodded. No big smile. No, I told you so. No speech. He got me into his car, handed me the water bottle from his cup holder, and asked if I wanted to stop for food before we went home.
The next day, he gave me the keys.
After that, I made the place mine. The front wall is clay pink because I wanted it warm without making everything look like a baby shower. The shelves are labeled because Zea and Edie ganged up on me. The back patio has my paint water setup, which is ugly but functional. There are student paintings on one wall, a calendar by the counter, and a sign near the door that says Lit with Lily: Paint. Sip. Create.
Javonte sets the food on the table closest to the window. “Did you eat lunch?”
“Yes.”
He looks at me.
“I had pretzels and coffee.”
“That’s not lunch.”
“It was during lunch hours.”
He shakes his head and starts taking containers out of the bag. “That’s not how food works.”
“It’s how entrepreneurship works.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Javonte watches me set the flowers on the counter. “You like them?”
“They’re pretty.”
“They had some with glitter.”
“I’m proud of you for leaving those where they were.”
“I almost didn’t.”
He smiles and pulls out my chair. I give him a look, but I sit because my feet hurt, and I’m not turning down comfort just to prove a point to a man who already knows I can stand on my own.
He sits across from me and opens the container closest to my elbow. “Your favorite.”
I look down and smile. “You remembered.”
“I remember a lot.”
The way he says it makes my chest warm, but I pick up my fork instead of making a big deal of it.
For a while, we just eat. He tells me about practice and a rookie who talks too much for someone who doesn’t know where to stand on defense. I tell him about a woman in today’s class who painted one flower, decided it was ugly, painted over the whole canvas, and somehow ended up with the best piece in the room.
“She said she wants to come back next week,” I say.
“That’s good.”
“It is. She looked proud of herself when she left.”
“You love when they’re proud.”
He leans back in his chair, watching me. “You look happy when you talk about it.”
“I am happy.”
The words come out easily. I am happy. Tired, busy, occasionally irritated by shipping costs and booking software, but happy.
