Page 125 of Kick the Candle (Knight Games 2)
She inhaled sharply. "What? Oh my god, did he go postal over the bar stool thing? I'm so sorry, Grateful. I wouldn't have been so rude if I'd known he was a super or been less drunk."
"No. Nothing to do with you actually. The little shit had my number. Get in the car. I'll tell you the story on the way to Aunt Bee's."
Ten minutes later we were nestled in a brass-accented booth with toile fabric seats, having ordered French toast and crepes because the lunch options waxed geriatric. As predicted, we were the youngest people in the place. I eyed the curly white head of the woman at the table across the aisle. She raised her floral teacup in greeting. When she smiled, I noticed she was only wearing her top teeth.
"The special today is stewed prunes," Michelle said flatly.
"Okay. I'll try to get over my fear of Valentine's. But you do know my blood stain is still visible in the parking lot."
"Maybe you can make the restaurant safer with a spell."
"Good idea. I'll run it past Logan."
"So what are going to do about your house?"
"Dad says I have to move out next Wednesday. I haven't found a new place yet. I don't suppose you would have an extra room or attic..."
Her cheeks contorted back toward her ears, showing teeth but not in a smile. What was that expression? Somewhere between surprise and getting a whiff of a really bad smell. "I'm so sorry, Grateful, but Manny's mother is staying with us right now."
"What? I hadn't heard."
"Just moved in last night. She's divorcing Manny's dad."
"Haven't they been married for like fifty years?"
"Yes. The whole thing is kind of silly. She says the romance is dead. She's seventy-six-years old. How alive is the romance supposed to be?"
The waitress plopped my French toast in front of me and topped off my coffee. I cast an irritated glare toward the cup and tried not to direct my ire at the unwitting waitress. How could she know she'd touched on a hot button, a major pet peeve. She'd completely upset my coffee-sweetener-cream ratio. Now there was too much coffee but I had no way of knowing what percentage of sugar and cream to add to even it out because I hadn't looked to see how much was left in the cup.
"What is wrong with your face? You look like you're having a stroke," Michelle said.
"She totally changed my coffee chemistry. Now I won't get it right again until I start over."
Michelle swallowed a bite of strawberry crepe while I fussed over my cup. After a few experimental additions, the color was right and the taste was close. I moved the cup to the other side of the table so the waitress couldn't top it off without reaching over me.
"When did you become so anal about your coffee?"
"Always. I actually prefer it with cinnamon. Rick always makes mine with cinnamon."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Your relationship has evolved to morning after breakfast preparation?"
I played with the paper wrapper of my sweetener packet. "Actually yes, but he's always known how I liked my coffee. He knows stuff about me I am just figuring out about myself. And he's so selfless about our relationship. I haven't given him enough credit."
For a moment, I entered a trance-like state thinking about my encounter with Rick in the shower. The next time I came into the present moment, half my French toast was gone.
"Huh." Michelle had finished her crepes and leaned back against her seat, arms crossed. "I didn't see this coming."
"See what coming?"
"You're in love with him."
I tried not to react to the word but jerked a little anyway. My mind had been dancing around the "L" label for a few days but I wasn't ready to say it and even if I was, some part of me knew that Michelle was not the right person to say it to, not the first time. I shrugged impassively.
"Hmm. I see."
"What do you see?" I finished my coffee and stared at the swirly stain the brew left at the bottom of the mug. An uninvited thought stormed into my brain; my soul was the cup and Rick was the stain. Had he marked me before or after my cup was filled with this life? Funny, I always thought my soul was inside my body, but suddenly, like the illumination of a freshly flipped light switch, I could see that my soul was the greater part of myself, the cup, and this life was the coffee. Rick had kept the cup safe to fill again and again and again, his presence leaving an indelible mark on every cup, changing the chemistry.
"Grateful!"
