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I shrug. “I’m not ready to jump off a cliff here. Baby leaps.”
We get our coffees at the same time. And because Brewski’s is busy and we both still have stores that need opening, we head for the door and out onto the sidewalk. I remove the lid from my cup and blow on it a little before taking my first sip.
Dax watches me. “What’s the verdict?”
It’s good. A little different from what I’m used to, but it’s still nutty and smooth, and I can taste the coffee a little more. “Pretty delicious baby step.”
Dax takes a small sip of his own drink, winces, then takes a second, longer one.
“You don’t strike me as a misto kind of guy.” I instantly feel better getting the words off my chest.
“Oh, I’m not,” he replies matter-of-factly. “This is an attempt to understand you better, get into the head of Gemma Wilde.”
“And what do you think?”
He takes yet another sip, holding the coffee in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “It’s a bit of a shock at first sip, but after a couple, it kind of grows on you.”
“Are you talking about me or the coffee?”
Dax looks over at me and grins. “Let’s go with the coffee.” He stops walking, and his gaze drifts to something across the street.
“I’ve actually got to stop in at the bank.” He points at the TD. “But if your manifesting doesn’t work out and you need to go with plan B, let me know. I’m always good for a coffee.”
“Thank you for this.” I hold up my coffee but mean far more than that.
“Anytime, Gemma Wilde.” Dax cheers our cups and turns to walk back across James Street.
I walk back to Wilde Beauty, feeling at ease in this new life for the very first time. We’re nowhere near the Dax and Gemma we used to be, but it feels like we’ve planted a seed that, with enough time, could blossom into the type of friendship we once had. Or at least I can hope.
When I get back to Wilde Beauty, two young moms with babies in those koala-pouch things are waiting by my door. I apologize profusely for opening late. They hold up their very large Brewski’s cups. We bond over our shared love of caffeine.
I recommend a few products to help with dark under-eye circles. They purchase what I suggest, plus a few more things. We share a few laughs before they leave.
Next comes a middle-aged woman with a textbook Karen haircut. I brace for an inevitable berating.
But she’s lovely and kind. She’s a little clueless about skincare but seems happy to listen while I preach the benefits of vitamin C. When it’s time to pay, she hands over her Visa with a smile, and I get this urge to try something new. Take a risk. Be the Gemma who drinks oat Americanos and doesn’t clench her jaw when there isn’t a clear plan.
“Would you be interested in joining our newsletter?”
Karen, whose name, ironically, is actually Karen, pauses before she asks, “Is it about products and stuff?”
This newsletter came to me on a whim. I have no clear plan. But I do have tons of ideas. “Yes. But also tips and advice and information about events we’re hosting at the store.”
Because apparently I’m hosting events now.Since when?
“That sounds wonderful. Sign me up.”
I open a note on my phone and take down her contact info. The idea of a newsletter makes me smile. And that smile sticks for the rest of my very busy day until it’s time to lock my doors and cash out for the night.
By seven o’clock, I’ve added five more names to my newsletter list.
As I swipe my note app closed, I see a message from my aunt. It’s only a kiss emoji from her morning message that I must have missed. However, I pause and read her words again.
What you think you become. What you imagine you create. Tell the universe what you want. Trust that it will gift you with all that you need.
Okay, universe. Today was a good one. No one yelled or stole.I managed to avoid any crippling thoughts of doom. You did a decent job at delivering on what I want. Now tell me what I need.
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
