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She rolled her eyes and held up her hands in defeat. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you to it.” She turned to go, but I caught her eyeing my hair—and she got in one last dig. “My hairdresser takes walk-ins on Wednesdays, if you ever want to do something about that hair.”
“I will certainly keep that in mind,” I said, running my fingers through my hair, which could stand to be a bit longer, in my opinion. “Better go… make sure it doesn’t look like anyone lives here before the housekeeper shows up.”
“You’re so funny,” she said, making her way out the door. She was still murmuring as she walked up the stairs, something about how I just didn’t “get it.” I waited until the door at the top of the stairs closed before letting out a heavy sigh, cursing Owen’s name under my breath.
Not that he deserved it. I was just in the same place I was ten years ago, living in my parents’ basement and getting off to the image of a woman I could never have. Kendall was about as available to me now as Lara Croft had been then.
The only difference between the man I’d become and the clueless teenager I once was lay in the fact I now had another human being to support—and I was doing a piss-poor job of it.
* *
By Wednesday, my mood had improved, though that probably had a lot to do with seeing Kendall—and getting out of that house.
After dropping Finley off at school, I headed to the new café downtown—the one every single old friend insisted I visit upon my return, but hadn’t had a chance to explore. It was the one I’d seen Sarah and Owen carrying coffee cups from—Riverside Coffee Company.
It seemed cozy with its mismatched wooden furnishings, a wall of old books that were likely only touched by the most pretentious of customers, and a single, enormous bay window facing the street. Hozier’s voice crooned over the speakers, one of his quieter, mellower songs. And the café was nearly vacant, aside from a thirty-something woman typing on a laptop at a table in the corner, oblivious to the world around her.
Immediately, I could envision this becoming a potential workspace for me—as long as their coffee passed the test. The young, lavender-haired barista greeted me with a smile, saying, “Welcome in! Today’s a special day—we just launched our pumpkin spice lattes for the season!”
“Fuck yes,” I blurted, making her laugh. I wasn’t about to pretend I wanted anything different. I ordered a medium before settling into a barstool near the window with my iPad. I had a little bit of time to finish up the fall festival t-shirt sketch before showing it to Kendall.
The nude illustration of her was carefully hidden in a secure, private folder—there was no chance in hell I’d let her accidentally swipe to that one.
I pulled up the file in my illustration app. I’d decided on going with a vintage-inspired design, choosing a bold but whimsical serif font for the words FALL FESTIVAL that reminded me of some of my grandparents’ vinyl album covers from the 60s. Peeking out from behind the letters, I added as many details from what Kendall described as I could in order to capture the essence of the festival—the hayride wagon, a jack-o’-lantern, a scarecrow, a vintage-looking ticket, and, of course, Kendall’s caramel apple. All of these details were surrounded by fall leaves, which cascaded over the letters below.
I reworked some of the details on the scarecrow’s face as I took my first sip of coffee—relieved to know I could indeed return to this café to get some work done in the future. The drink was perfection.
A thought occurred to me as I reached the bottom of my drink and closed the cover of my iPad. Teachers loved coffee, didn’t they? And—maybe—Kendall would appreciate a mid-morning pick-me-up?
I debated it in my head for a full minute before approaching the counter again. “That may have been the best pumpkin spice latte ever made—I’m going to need another one to take to a friend.”
“Uh huh,” the barista said as she rang me up. “You’re just using that as an excuse to drink a second one, aren’t you?”
“You caught me,” I teased, pulling my wallet out of my pocket.
As I watched the girl make the drink, humming along to the music as she worked, I almost told her never mind. And on my way out, I even considered throwing it in the trashcan on the sidewalk. What kind of message would I be sending by buying Kendall a coffee? I wanted it to say, “you deserve this for having to put up with my kid,” not, “I want to fuck you.”
The latter was the reason I left it in my cupholder and walked away from my car in the school parking lot, locking my car behind me. What a stupid idea.
I made it halfway across the lot before jogging back for it. Nope, nope, nope—the stupid thing would be to waste a five dollar drink that purple-haired barista so lovingly made. And no matter how Kendall perceived the gesture, it wasn’t like she would be wrong either way.
chapter thirteen
kendall
On Wednesday morning, I had to pull out my very first “I’m going to sit here and wait until everyone’s quiet” of the year and nearly died in my rocking chair at the front of the rug before the kids were silent. The wiggliest and noisiest of them all was Finley, who was yet again antsy because she knew her dad would be there soon. She repeatedly cupped her hands over her mouth, though, like she truly could not help her outbursts.
I saw so much of myself in her. And that’s part of the reason why I kept my tone gentle when I said, “Finley, can you find your listening ears for me?”
She pretended to pull her “listening ears” out of her pocket and put them over her real ears—and due to some miracle, she only interrupted the Johnny Appleseed book I was reading once more before it was time for me to walk them to the library.
Once I was alone in my classroom, I sat at my desk and rubbed my temples, wishing I would have had time to make myself a coffee that morning. So when Mason ambled in holding a coffee cup in his outstretched hand, saying, “Apparently it’s officially pumpkin spice season,” I could have hugged him.
I reached across my desk to accept the cup. “This is for me?”
Mason shoved one hand in his pocket, the other clutching an iPad with a black leather cover against his chest. With a slow nod, he said, “I was at Riverside this morning and… they made this by accident, so they gave it to me for free.”
“Oh—lucky me.”
