Mom wraps an arm around her shoulders, and I carry her stuff in from the car.
“Coffee?” Dad asks.
It’s all so routine, no different from how cooking is for me. I just nod and let him get his prized espresso machine going. The iced Americanos have grown on me since he paid through the nose for it.
Mom rolls her eyes as he goes to work.
“Can’t pry him away from that thing,” she says fondly, nodding at Dad with his beans and his tiny weighing scale. “When your father said we needed a new hobby, I didn’t know he meant specialty coffee.”
“Don’t complain, dear. Where would you be without your caramel macchiatos?” he says with a wink. “She loves it, really.”
She sighs affectionately. “I just hate the noise and expense.”
“Won’t be much longer.” The grinder finishes working its way through the beans, and soon he’s packing the coffee grounds in for a perfect press.
“Tell me how everything’s going,” Mom says warmly, ushering me to the small kitchen table and bringing out plates. There’s half a carrot cake leftover she must’ve made earlier.
Another reason Kit doesn’t mind coming here. Mom keeps her stuffed with more sugary goodness than I’d bring home in six months.
“I’m heading to NYC tomorrow. Last ride for the old job, hopefully,” I say.
“Oh my,” Mom says brightly. “Then you’re done with that Blackthorn business? Hard to believe.”
Done, yeah.
The words shouldn’t feel like a brick to the face, but they do.
I clear my throat. Dad walks over with a rich smelling glass of iced coffee and slaps me on the back.
“Kit told me about your guest. It’s nice to see you back in the game, Son,” Dad says with a grin.
“No game. It’s business, and she’s a busy lady.”
“Oh, hush.” Mom wags a finger at me. “A little birdie said it’s like she’s moved in. Now, my old-fashioned side might not approve of it without a ring, but my mom side can’t stand the thought of you staying alone. You can’t be a permanent bachelor, Holdie.”
That old nickname she used when I was a boy always makes me wince.
I shake my head, knowing they’re insufferable. Silence is the best defense. Plus, glaring at Kit, who flashes me a sweet, not-so-innocent smile.
Dammit, she’s going to run laps around me when she’s older.
“Dad has a crush on her,” Kit proclaims loudly. “He basically told me.”
“I did not,” I growl. “Watch yourself, nugget.”
“He did! But he said it’s ‘complicated’ so it’s gonna be a million years before anything cool happens.”
No.
Nothing ‘cool’ is happening this lifetime. If my daughter knew how fucking uncool I’ve been to Cleo Blackthorn lately, she’d know that.
“Good coffee. The specialty beans are worth every penny.” I hold up my iced Americano, saluting my father, desperate to change the subject.
“Yeah, okay, pal. This romance stuff is your mom’s business, not mine,” Dad whispers as he sits at the kitchen table with us.
“We just want to see you happy.” Mom sighs, putting her hand over mine.
I close my eyes, breathing through my nose.
