Page 59 of Forever Mine
I refused Beverly’s offer of a lift in her fancy silver Mercedes, so by the time I walk there, she’s already inside sitting at a table near the window. There are a few other people scattered at the other tables, enjoying coffee and dessert and quiet conversation.
Laurel looks up from the espresso machine when the bell above the door rings. She smiles when she sees me.
“Was wondering if you’d drop by today.”
The place smells of roasted coffee beans and sweet vanilla, and I’m suddenly starving. Walking over to the counter, I lift the glass cloche covering a pyramid of macaroons in every color imaginable. Using the tongs, I select the top one and place it onto a napkin.
Laurel sets the latte she just made into a coffee printer, which is probably one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. It uses extracts from coffee as the ink to print images onto the foam.
“We’ll be closing soon. The usual?” she asks, wiping her hands off on a dish towel folded into her waist apron.
“Chamomile tea with honey, to go, please. And put it on her ticket,” I reply, pointing to Beverly.
Laurel removes the mug from the printer to reveal an intricate design of roses. “Perfect timing. This is hers.”
I reluctantly take the latte handed to me and head over to the two-seater round table.
“Thank you,” Beverly says when I place her drink in front of her.
Sitting down in the chair opposite her, I pop the macaroon into my mouth, eating it in one bite. Toasted coconut. A flavor I haven’t tried before. It’s flipping delicious.
Not wasting any time, I not so nicely say, “You wanted to talk to me. You have five minutes.”
Beverly gives me a reproving look, similar to the one Mom used to give me and Jay as kids when we acted up.
With an exasperated sigh, she drums French manicured nails on the side of her mug. “I was hoping to see Elijah last weekend but when he didn’t show—” She takes a dainty sip of her drink and dabs a paper napkin to her lips. “April said he didn’t come because she told him I would be there.”
Laurel delivers my tea in a large to-go cup.
“Thanks.”
“Can I get either of you anything else?”
“No, thank you. This is delicious,” Beverly replies, which makes Laurel beam.
As soon as she leaves, I lean my elbows on the table. “Can you blame him?”
“No,” Beverly replies and uncrosses her legs under the table. “And I understand the animosity, but could you put your hatred for me aside for a moment?”
Disgusted to be put in this position, I reply, “Like I said, you have five minutes.”
“You’re as stubborn as April.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Her hand fiddles with her necklace again. “I want my son back.”
I don’t think anything could have shocked me more. But overriding the shock is pure rage on Elijah’s behalf.
Patrons’ heads swivel around when I erupt out of the chair and slam my hands down on the table.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve?—”
“—wanted to talk to him this weekend, but he?—”
“Do you blame him for not wanting to speak to you?
“—and since you’re his…”
