Page 35 of Unspoken Love

The boy started making a loud whining sound, and the woman looked down at him and sighed. Then she glanced back up and arched her brows. “And the freshest and largest cookie you have.”

Faye nodded, then turned and got to work quickly behind the counter. She tried to keep her breathing steady as the pain persisted while the kid continued his game.

She knew that everyone had off days. Tourists could be tough sometimes, but she figured that she could handle this one. It was just one coffee and a cookie. Right? She’d been through worse days, she told herself as she ignored the buzzing in her head.

As she placed the drink on the counter and slid it gently toward the woman, she offered her best customer-service smile. “Here you go. One 16-ounce cappuccino with oat milk and one cookie.” She set the cookie, which was as big as her head, on the counter in a to-go container.

The woman removed the lid of her coffee and barely looked at it before replying. “There is too much foam.” Her voice grew louder. “I said airy.” She spoke to Faye as if she was talking to a child. She shook the cup, spilling some liquid all over the countertop before replacing the lid. “It’s far too stiff.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “This is exactly what I mean—overhyped coffee shops with no standards.”

Several heads in the café turned toward them.

“I’d be happy to remake it for you,” Faye said, already reaching for a fresh cup while the woman’s son reached up and took the cookie and started devouring it.

“Don’t bother,” the woman snapped, yanking the cup to her chest. “Clearly this place is just pretending to be something it’s not. Like every other over-decorated hole-in-the-wall that thinks fairy lights and Instagram filters count as charm. You can just comp me the coffee.”

Her words were sharp, each one digging like a splinter under Faye’s skin. Her son had finished the cookie and now had chocolate all over his face as he returned to the game. The cash register sound pulsed in Faye’s head each time. The woman turned to leave but Faye stopped her.

“No, I can’t comp you a perfectly good coffee, and you’ll have to pay for your son’s cookie as well,” Faye said firmly.

“The coffee isn’t up to my standards.”

“Then you’ll have no problem leaving it.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed again. “But it’s not up to my standards. Do you know who I am? I have over two million subscribers.” She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “I could ruin this place with one video.”

“I could call the police and have you arrested for not paying for your coffee and cookie.”

A slow smile formed on her lips. “I didn’t see you give my son a cookie. Where is it?” She motioned to the empty container.

“Your son ate it,” Faye pointed out, motioning to the chocolate and crumbs all over the boy.

“You couldn’t even make my coffee right. I doubt the cookie was any good.”

She felt the high-pitched buzzing in her head build. No, she thought. Just please stop until the woman leaves.

“Regardless, even if you leave the coffee, you will still have to pay for the cookie,” she said a little more firmly.

“I’d like to speak to your supervisor then.” The woman smiled.

“I am the supervisor here.” Faye took a deep breath as the woman crossed her arms over her chest.

“I am not paying for anything.” The woman’s chin rose slightly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll call the local police.” She reached for the phone. The woman gasped.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’ve already explained that you didn’t make this coffee to my liking, and I’m sure you never delivered our cookie.” The woman’s voice rose and now everyone in the store was watching the show. She pulled out her phone as if to start recording the incident.

Faye didn’t know if she had hit record yet or not but didn’t care. This woman wasn’t going to get away with this.

“I don’t know where you think you are, but here in Pride, we don’t tolerate this kind of behavior. I’m sure you wouldn’t want your child to learn that he doesn’t have to pay for things that he eats, so just pay for the cookie and leave the coffee,” Faye said a little more firmly.

The kid’s game grew louder, as if he was trying to drown out the voices. She reached up, touching her implant again, trying to will it to stop the high-pitched sounds. Begging it to behave.

The woman was still talking, still criticizing the coffee, the cookies, the bookshelf displays, even the local artists’ prints on the wall. Her voice grew to an almost painful level as she moved around in circles as if videoing herself.

But suddenly, all of her words were warping.

Muffled.