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He didn’t look convinced, but he painted a serviceable smile on his face when he opened the door.
In the doorway, Sylvie, still wearing last night’s dress, was balancing three stacked trays on one hand because she was carrying a silver thermos in the other.
“Sylvie,” he greeted. “What a surprise.” There was no nice or pleasant qualifier, but at least he’d said something, so Lauren called it a win. For now.
“Oh! Um — hi.” Sylvie’s eyes widened as she glanced up at the much taller man. “I have cases of cold water and soda in my trunk,” she blurted rather adorably.
Without hesitation, he relieved Sylvie of the sealed aluminum trays. “Or you can call me Jose,” he joked before leaning in and kissing her cheek in customary greeting. “Let me set these down and I’ll get the drinks.”
That’s better.
“Hey.” Lauren looped around her father and gave her a modest peck on the lips. She’d be sure to greet her properly outside of her father’s view.
“Hi,” Sylvie replied stiffly.
As soon as her father was out the door and presumably heading for Sylvie’s Jeep, Lauren pulled Sylvie into her arms. “Are you okay? Should I have warned you that my dad was here?”
Sylvie relaxed against her chest. “No,” she replied with a sigh. “It would’ve given me too much time to overthink myself into a panic attack.”
Lauren cupped her cheek, charmed by the vulnerability emanating from her honey eyes. “I missed you,” she confessed softly against her lips.
Sylvie wrapped her arms around Lauren’s neck. Her soft lips twitched into a little smile. “Good thing for you I’m here now. We don’t have to miss each other anymore.”
Lauren kissed her again. Taking her time to show her she’d been thinking about her since they parted that morning. Dazed by the flood of sensations kissing Sylvie produced, Lauren pecked her again before letting her go.
Instead of tearing off like a spinning top on a mission, Sylvie gazed up at her. As if transfixed, she let out a long, cleansing breath. As if it might have been the first breath she’d taken all day.
Lauren lingered, unable to break the connection. She was inundated with the energy buzzing from Sylvie. A high voltage current speeding up Lauren’s heart.
What are you thinking?Lauren wanted to ask but couldn’t get her mouth to move. She was lost to the moment. To her own intense feelings reflected back at her.
“Did you want me to bring all this down?” Her dad kicked open the door with his foot, two large cases of drinks in his arms. “They were the only drinks back there.”
Overloaded with trapped energy, Lauren laughed too loudly. “You know I said there were three people here, right? Not thirty.”
With a straight back and shrewd gaze, Sylvie snapped into familiar Sylvie-mode. “Mejor que sobre a que falte,” she replied, repeating the adage Lauren heard in her own home her whole life: It’s better to have too much than too little.
Sylvie opened the three trays set on the counter. One with bread, another with salad, and finally a steaming hot lasagna fit for a family reunion. “It’s from Lenny’s. The absolute best,” she said with obvious pride. “And of course,” she reached for the silver thermos. “Un cortadito to get everything done.”
Without waiting for anyone to express interest, Sylvie pulled tiny plastic cups from a bag in her purse. She served four shots of Cuban espresso. Handing one to Lauren’s father, then Lauren, she meandered to the back where the electrician was doing some finishing touches.
As soon as Sylvie disappeared through the newly-installed swinging door to the kitchen, Lauren’s father looked at her. His eyes were obvious question marks as he sipped the piping hot coffee. Closing his eyes, he knocked it back in one gulp.
“Don’t tell your mother,” he said before swiping the coffee Lauren hadn’t tried yet.
She smirked. “That she was here?”
He shook his head. “That I drank her coffee.” He gulped down the second shot, savoring the taste on his tongue. “Or that it was delicious.”
As Lauren laughed, Sylvie returned with two empty coffee cups. “Okay, who’s hungry?”
Sitting around the middle of the nearly completed bakery on overturned crates because the bistro tables hadn’t been delivered yet, the three of them held their paper plates in their hands as they ate. Sylvie’s purse was apparently a Mary Poppins style situation capable of providing endless tableware.
“So, Sylvie,” Lauren’s dad took a bite of garlic bread. “How did your parents take the news?”
Lauren’s attention darted to Sylvie. “You don’t have to answer that,” she snapped before looking at her father. “Dad, don’t ask her awkward questions.”
He laughed. “Awkward? We experienced it together. Why shouldn’t I ask about it?”
