Page 61 of The Moment I Knew

He handed me the frothing pitcher, and I gripped it like it was a delicate treasure, careful not to spill. He stepped back again, trusting me to froth the milk as he grabbed a mug and pumped syrup in it. The milk hissed as I placed it under the steam wand. I jumped slightly at the first burst of heat, and he chuckled low behind me. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“You make it look so… effortless,” I admitted nervously, watching the froth swirl and bubble.

“You won’t mess it up,” he said, stepping even closer. I could feel his chest brushing my back now, his arm nearly grazing mine as he leaned in. “Just feel it with your hand. Listen to the sound.”

I followed his instructions, letting my fingers rest against the pitcher. He moved around me, adjusting my grip ever so slightly, guiding my wrist with just a touch that sent a jolt up my arm. My heart was racing—partly from the closeness, partly because every small movement felt electric.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, just behind my ear. My stomach fluttered, and I had to remind myself to breathe. Then he leaned a fraction closer, guiding the milk in a slow, steady pour over the espresso. His hands brushed mine, fingers lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary. I froze for a moment, aware of the heat of him so close, the faint scent of coffee and something else—him.

Finally, he stepped back just enough to place the cup in front of me, espresso layered neatly beneath the creamy milk and whatever syrup he had put into the cup for me. “Voilà. Your very own… top-secret creation,” he said, grinning like he’d conjured magic.

I lifted the cup carefully, taking a slow, deliberate sip. The warmth spread through me, rich and smooth, just sweet enough. My heart was pounding, not from the caffeine, but from standing here, close to him, sharing this forbidden moment.

I stared at the drink, then up at him, cheeks flaming. “This… this is amazing. How did you even think of this?”

He tilted his head, watching me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Experimentation,” he said lightly. “And a bit of luck. But mostly…” His gaze caught mine, intense and teasing. “…I like doing things for people who appreciate it.”

He leaned against the counter across from me, still watching me like I was the most interesting thing he’d seen all day. I tried to focus on the drink, but my eyes kept drifting back to him, and I realized this little secret, this quiet closeness, was far more intoxicating than any coffee could ever be.

twenty

I waited near the fountain in the park, my fingers curled tightly around the straps of my backpack. The water splashed in lazy arcs behind me, the only sound since the place was pretty much abandoned with it being so cold out. My toes were freezing, and my hands were numb, but worse than that was the gnawing anxiety.

Lately, Dad had always been the one to decide where and when we met, so it had felt weird to pretty much cold call him and ask if he could meet me after school on a random Tuesday. It was obvious he’d been surprised as well and he’d told me he couldn’t meet until after work, so here I sat waiting for him, like I usually did.

It was ten minutes past the time we agreed to meet when I saw him walk into the park in my direction. He was walking stiffly and keeping his head down, as if he thought it was suspicious to be anywhere around here, even before he met up with me. I picked up my bag and walked over to meet him halfway.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said as I came up. He started to raise his arm like he was going to hug me but then he looked around nervously, so I decided to hang back. No hug would be better than an awkward one that he was clearly uncomfortable during. “How’s it going?”

“Hi,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even, though my stomach knotted and my throat was dry. I hated how small I felt standing here, trying to convince him of something so simple and yet so complicated.

He took a slow step toward me, eyes flicking briefly to my hands clutching the backpack. “You wanted to see me?”

I swallowed hard, my voice sticking in my throat. “Yeah… it’s… about something important.” My words came out rushed, jagged, each one a tiny battle against my nerves. “It’s our birthday this weekend,” I finally managed, feeling the weight of my words before they even left me. “Ainsley and I… we… were hoping you might come to our birthday party.”

His expression shifted, just slightly, a flicker of something that might have been surprise, caution, or concern. “Imogen…” His voice trailed off. I hated that I knew what he meant without him having to finish.

“I know it’s complicated,” I said quickly, stepping a fraction closer. “I know you haven’t seen Mum or the others in months. I know it’s awkward. But it’s our birthday. We just… we want you there. Just for a little while.”

His brows furrowed as he studied me. “We? You’ve talked about this with Ainsley?”

“In a way,” I said slowly, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, she doesn’t know I’m inviting you, but she would be okay if you showed up on your own! So she doesn’t need to know why it happened.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a small circle beside the fountain. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You don’t have to come for the whole time!” I said in a rush. “I mean, it’s going to be a few hours and I’m sure you’d get bored if you were there the whole time, but maybe you could just stop in. Come for the part where there’s cake.”

I cracked a smile, hoping he would smile back. He loved birthday cake, and every year, he was the one to insist that Ainsley and I each get our own cake instead of one to share. But he still didn’t look at me and he definitely didn’t smile.

“I haven’t… I don’t know how to even start after all this time. Your mom… she doesn’t want me anywhere near the house. And your siblings… they’d never forgive me, not easily. I—” He stopped abruptly, frustration tightening his jaw, hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I promise we won’t make it worse,” I said, my voice trembling despite my efforts to be steady. “We’ll be careful. We’ll be… good. Please, Dad. Just this once. For us.”

He finally looked at me, really looked, and I saw the man I remembered—the one who loved me fiercely, tangled up with the man who had made mistakes and was still carrying the weight of every consequence. His jaw flexed, and he gave a slow, heavy exhale.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I haven’t… I haven’t seen any of them. Not since…” He shook his head, trailing off again.

I stepped closer, careful to keep my tone soft but urgent. “I know it’s messy. I know it’s complicated. We just… we just want to see you. For a few hours.” I bit the inside of my cheek, heart hammering. “Please. That’s all we’re asking.”