Page 29 of Seven Summers Ago
He shoves me away, his elbow brushing against my bicep. “I got it.” He taps his card on the reader.
“I’ll pay you back,” I mutter, blinking back my disbelief over his unexpected generosity.
“Don’t worry about it.” He gives Charlie her big pink seashell-shaped cookie.
Her eyes go big, and her smile matches it. “Ooooo thank you,” she squeals.
Beck chuckles and my stomach swoops at the sound. A flicker of memories follow it. I haven’t heard that genuine laugh in so long. And I’m not sure how it’s possible, going so long without hearing a sound that used to be one of your favorites.
“You’re welcome,” he says to her. To me, he gestures toward the counter. “There’s yours.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
By the time I snatch my cinnamon roll and spin around, the bell above the door chimes as Beck and Charlie go outside. Itwist my lips to the side and sigh, grabbing a couple of napkins before following behind them once again. Guess I deserve this. I’m only here because he knows I wouldn’t allow Charlie to go without me.
The two of them sit at a colorful square table with two bench seats that rest partially on the cinder pavers in front of the shop and partially on the sidewalk. There’s a seagull circling overhead waiting for some crumbs.
Charlie hasn’t taken a bite of her cookie yet. She’s still admiring it. “Mama? Take a picture of me with my cookie.” Her smile is so big it’s like she’s swallowed a hanger.
I can’t help it, but I smile too seeing that wide, toothless grin. “Oh, right, almost forgot.” This is something Charlie and I love to do. When we eat something new, we always take a picture first. My phone is full of food photos.
Sliding my phone free from the back pocket of my denim shorts, I position it while the seagull squawks above my head and distracts me. I hope he knows getting pooped on is not on my bingo card today. I hurry and snap a few pictures of Charlie smiling and holding up her big cookie.
“Send it to West,” she says sweetly, and my gaze darts at Beck, but he drops his head before we can lock eyes. “Now you need to get one of my daddy’s cookie too.”
“Oh. Um…I mean, maybe he doesn’t want a picture.” I bite on my lower lip; the easy way Charlie refers to Beck as her daddy is still new and a bit unsettling.
“Please, it’s fun,” she coaxes, pulling up her legs and tucking them underneath her on the small wood bench. I scootch in next to her and sit down on the edge of it so only one of my ass cheeks is hanging off.
“Sure, I’d love a picture,” he agrees.
“Me and Mommy do it all the time.”
Beck gives me a crooked smile, and my core tightens without warning. He holds his cookie up close to his face. His is a blue seashell. I take the picture and when I bring my phone down, his smile has already vanished.
I eat my cinnamon roll and try to refrain from moaning at how decadent it is. Finding a gluten free cinnamon roll that actually tastes good is a challenge. So far, I’ve only found one café in Seattle. Most of the time, I skip sweets. They’re too hard to trust and there’s no telling how my body will react.
While Beck and Charlie chat, I scroll on my phone mindlessly, not paying attention to anything that comes across my screen. Even if one post is a baby announcement from my cousin and another is a sale post by the brand I buy my black tees from for work. It’s too hard to give my focus to my screen when my baby girl is chatting with her father. The man who once held my entire life while giving me the space to grow.
A text comes through from West. My initial reaction is to swipe it away. Which—what is that about?
West
Morning beautiful! How are my girls?
Morning! Charlie found herself a cookie that’s almost as big as her face!
I send him the picture of her.
West
Bet she’s enjoying it!
She is. I’m sure she’ll be talking about this cookie for weeks
West
Think you’ll be able to come home sooner?
