Page 46 of Taking the Pitch
She snorts and rolls her eyes. “I guess I do.”
I know she’s approving of the nickname, but maybe it means she’s approving of me, too.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
amelia
The bellabove Latte Daze jingles, announcing my arrival. Hazel peeks over her shoulder at the sound. “Hey girl, get us a table and I’ll be over in a jiff. I’m just putting the last of the scones in the oven.”
“Please tell me they’re your cranberry white chocolate ones,” I beg, my mouth already watering at the prospect of tart cranberries and rich white chocolate blessing my tastebuds.
“‘Tis the season,” she says, giving me a wink.
“Thank you, baby Jesus,” I mutter, claiming a table near the back close to the counter so Hazel can still chat with Charlie and I while she putters around behind the counter. Even though Hazel has employees to run the counter when we have our coffee dates, she still has a hard time sitting down and just relaxing, so Charlie and I sit and enjoy our coffee while Hazel bounces around the back like a rabbit on crack.
I’m settling into my seat when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I set my bag on the table and pull it out, seeing a text from Charlie.
Charlie
Be there in 5! Don’t start without me.
Me
Hurry up! I can’t promise there will still be scones left. I’m starving.
Hazel
I’ll save you some scones Char. You want the usual?
Charlie
THANK YOU BEST FRIEND HAZEL! Yes, the usual please.
I smirk at my screen and set my phone down as Hazel sets my large gingerbread cold brew and a plate of cranberry scones in front of me. “Bless you,” I tell her, picking up the coffee and taking a sip. “It’s like Christmas came in my mouth.”
Hazel snorts. “I thought you didn’t like to swallow?”
I shrug. “If it tasted like this, I would.”
Hazel laughs and goes back behind the counter, busying herself with making Charlie’s drink. I look around and see there’s a handful of people spread out among the tables and couches. One person is sitting in the little reading nook Hazel put in last year at my suggestion. I always imagined myself opening up a little café/bookstore. I even majored in business in college, where I met Charlie. But after losing my parents, I found myself lost. At the suggestion of my therapist, I started writing down my feelings because voicing them was too much. Writing seemed to be the only thing that helped me process my emotions and escape from my reality.
My thoughts became short stories, which became books. One of my professors read a short story that I wrote for class andsuggested I submit it in a contest where the top ten submissions would be published. I hesitated at first. I didn’t think it was good enough, and I wasn’t sure I wanted people reading my inner thoughts. When I told Charlie, she said the worst that could happen was that it didn’t win. No harm, no foul. I voiced my fear of people reading my thoughts and she said people didn’t need to know my writing was my inner dialogue. To them, it was just a story someone wrote. So, I submitted it.
I ended up winning the contest, and my first piece was published. Turns out using humor to process my pain worked, not only for me, but for other people, too. Even though there were nine other stories published, mine was the one readers resonated with the most, resulting in publishing agencies contacting me for book deals.
But winning the contest sent me into a downward spiral. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy that I won, excited even. I opened my phone to call my parents and realized I couldn’t…because they were gone, and their deaths were the reason I had won in the first place. That was the first time in almost a year that I had forgotten, just for a second, that I was an orphan.
What happened after that is what led me to being hospitalized and in an intense therapy program for six months. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s a part of my journey and I had to learn to accept that I have to take the bad days with the good.
The bell brings me out of my thoughts, and I see Charlie hurrying over. Short, wavy dark brown hair mused from the wind. She pats her hair down as she makes her way over to me.
“Sorry, I’m late,” she huffs out, plopping down in the empty chair and giving Bruno a pat when he stands and sticks his head in her lap. “What did I miss?”
I reach forward and pluck a leaf out of her hair. “Nothing, Hazel’s busy making her confectionery goodness, so I’ve justbeen sitting here sifting through my emails.” It’s not a complete lie. Hazel is busy baking. I’m just not telling her what I was thinking about. I don’t need to worry her; I’ve done enough of that for one lifetime.
Hearing her name, Hazel pops out from the back, bringing Charlie her coffee and carrying one of her own. She eyes the plate and looks up at me. “All the scones are still here. Are you sick?” she asks, putting her hand on the back of my forehead.
I knock her hand away and laugh. “I was checking my emails and got distracted,” I tell her.
