“Okay,” she says after a moment, turning back to her drawing. “But can I still eat my donut?”
A hard breath moves through my chest. “Yeah, bug. You can still eat your donut.”
Ten o’clock comes and goes, and Elle licks icing off her fingers and looks toward the door when it opens each time. She’s curious more than excited. Trying to match a name to a face she barely remembers.
At 10:12, the bell rings over the door, and Stacey walks in. She has sunglasses pushed up in her hair and a big smile already in place. She orders quickly, then makes her way over.
“Hi,” she says brightly when she reaches us. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Elle looks at her carefully. “Hello.”
Stacey leans in for a hug, and I feel my shoulders lock before I can stop it. Elle doesn’t pull away, but her little arm wraps lightly and politely around her Stacey’s waist.
The perfume hits me as she straightens. Heavy and sweet and cutting through the smell of coffee.
“Traffic was insane,” she says easily, sliding into the chair.
I glance at the clock. 10:15.
“Made it just in time, then,” I mutter.
Her phone lands face-up on the table beside her cup. It lights almost immediately, the screen glow pulling all three of us for a split second before she snatches it up, checks it, then flips it over.
Elle pushes her drawing forward. She’s been working on a picture with penguins in thick blue crayon, one taller than the other, with an egg between them.
“Oh, that’s adorable,” Stacey says, glancing down. “Are those… uh, birds?”
“Penguins,” Elle corrects gently. “With an—”
“Right. Penguins. Cute, but kinda fishy smelling.”
Stacey smiles, her eyes moving to mine, then to the coffee Rose sets in front of her. She takes a sip and picks her phone up with her other hand, thumb swiping across her screen.
Elle’s fingers flatten against the edge of her paper, and she smooths it once, then slowly pulls it a few inches back toward herself.
Stacey asks about school, then forgets her teacher’s name halfway through the sentence, even though Elle just said it. She laughs it off, then checks her phone again.
“I can’t stay long,” she says after barely ten minutes. “I’ve got an appointment.”
“With who?” Elle asks.
“Just… grown-up stuff.”
Her move eyes quickly to mine as she stands, then back to Elle. She leans in like she might kiss the top of her head, but at the last minute, she only pats her hair.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Elle frowns. “Okay.”
We’re walking out by 10:27, and Elle doesn’t let go of my hand. She doesn’t run ahead or balance on the curb, or sing about penguins or pancakes or pebbles.
The paper bag with the rest of her donut swings from her other hand, and after half a block, she holds it up slightly.
“Do you think Penny likes pink donuts?”
The paper crinkles softly between her fingers, and I have to clear my throat before I answer.
“Mm,” I hum. “I bet she loves them.”
