Page 27 of The Coffee Bar on Camellia Court

The hot water helped, as did the pain relievers beginning to take effect. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his jeans with his dirty shirt flung over one shoulder, the floor beneath his feet had stopped undulating and his stomach seemed to be in a better mood, even if his head wasn't. He was surprised to find that he was actually hungry.

He was so focused on making it back to the couch without falling that he didn't see Juno standing in the middle of the living room until he stood almost directly in front of her.

"You okay?" she asked, stepping back quickly, her eyes darting away from his bare chest. She'd removed her apron and kicked off her shoes at the door, and now only wore a light blue Juno's Coffee Bar polo shirt tucked into form-fitting jeans.

She looked fresh as a daisy, he thought.

"I brought you this." She held up another one of her shop shirts, this one in black. "Yours is… used. I hope it's the right size." She practically tossed it at him, then made a beeline for the kitchen table, saying over her shoulder, "I also brought nourishment."

He'd taken one whiff of his shirt and had opted not to put it back on, so he couldn't be offended by her diplomatic assessment.

Once he'd slipped the clean shirt on and joined her, he took in the tray of coffee fixings and a platter with a couple of pieces of thick toast, a bagel, muffins, and several slices of perfectly fried bacon. Then he noticed the half-empty cup of coffee in front of her. So she'd been waiting for him.

"I was starting to get worried," she confirmed his suspicions. "You were in there a while."

He shot her a wry grin. "Yeah. Sorry to worry you. That might have been the best shower I've had in a long time." He plucked at the front of the shirt. It was snug, but it would do for now. "Thank you," he said, grateful for far more than the shirt and shower.

"You're welcome."

Alex eyed the array of options in front of him, relieved that his stomach wasn't exactly rebelling at the idea of eating. "I don't know where to start."

After a moment, she suggested, "How about why you showed up here drunk in the middle of the night?" Her voice was gentle but firm. "After three years sober," she repeated, driving the point home.

He picked up a piece of lightly buttered toast. The bacon smell was making his mouth water, but he'd better choose carefully, both in what he put in his mouth and what he let out of his mouth. "How did you know about that?"

"Mrs. Becker," she said in her direct way. "When she told me about Jason."

Her expression softened, and she started to reach across the table toward him, but then seemed to change her mind and picked up a muffin, instead. "I didn't know, Alex. No one told me. You could have said something to me, you know." Now she almost looked hurt.

"It's not something I talk about." He wrapped his hands around the warm mug. "It's easier that way."

"Is it?"

"Yes." Then he looked away. "Or maybe it isn't. I don't know. Everything seems harder these days." Wow. Now he was sounding like quite the downer. He met her gaze again. "I'm not making excuses for my behavior, Juno. I messed up bad last night, and I'm sorry you're the one who's stuck dealing with it. With me."

Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts. Alex gingerly ate his toast, while through the window, the morning light cast patterns across her kitchen floor. Juno pinched off pieces of her muffin, but didn't really eat much. It was obvious there was a lot going on inside her head.

"I never got any letter from you, Juno." The words came out before he could second-guess himself, and he forced himself to look at her when he said them. He needed her to see the truth in his eyes.

"What?" Her face registered surprise, then confusion.

"The letters you sent after you left. I never got them." He leaned forward.

"Who—" She broke off, then frowned, a suspicious glint in her eyes. "Then how do you know about them?"

"Mrs. Becker."

Juno shook her head. "That meddling woman." But she didn't really sound that upset.

Alex leaned forward, pressing in. "I never got anything from you, Juno. Not a letter, not an email, nothing. My texts went unread, and my thousand calls went straight to voicemail, then your number was disconnected."

Juno's expression shifted, disbelief warring with something else—hope, maybe? She held up three fingers. "I sent you three letters, Alex. To your house. Your parents' house."

He started shaking his head, then thought better of it when the room tilted precariously. "I never got them," he insisted, begging his stomach to settle so he could concentrate on the conversation. The weight of fifteen years of misunderstanding loomed large between them. "All I knew was that you were there one day, and gone the next. No goodbye, no explanation. I thought..." He swallowed hard. "I thought you'd just decided I wasn't worth the trouble."

"I thought the same about you." Her voice was quiet. "When you never answered."

Alex ran a hand through his nearly-dry hair, the smell of her aromatic shampoo he'd used filling his nostrils. "Will you tell me now what they said?" he asked, his voice gravelly with emotion. Would she tell him after all this time? Would her words even be relevant anymore? They'd been teenagers….

---