Page 30 of The Coffee Bar on Camellia Court

"Thank you. And thank you for this." He tugged on the collar of the shirt. "And for being nice to me when you didn't have to be."

In her kitchen, she pulled a paper bag from a drawer, returned and emptied the contents of the tray into it, but then just stood there, like she had some unfinished business.

He straightened his shoulders under her direct gaze, hoping what she saw wasn't quite so distasteful to her anymore.

"What are your plans for today?" she asked, surprising him.

"I, uh..." He hadn't thought that far ahead. "I should probably call Ward, let him know I won't be coming over. They're putting the last finishing touches on the new kitchen—curtains and pictures on the wall and stuff—and I told him I'd stop by and help if I got the chance today. But not like this."

"You can't work hung over?" she asked wryly.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he admitted in the same tone. "But no, not..." He gestured vaguely, not sure how to put words to his relapse. "I need to talk to Ward privately about this, not just show up. He'll be able to tell right away; he's seen me this way far too many times."

Juno nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Well, would you like to have dinner tonight? We could talk more."

Once again caught completely off guard, he stammered, "Uh—dinner?"

"Nothing fancy. Just... talking. We've got fifteen years to catch up on, and I have questions. I'm sure you do, too."

Hope, dangerous and fragile, flickered in his chest. He swallowed the lump that had risen in the back of his throat. "I'd like that."

"Good." She gathered their mugs. "Seven o'clock? Trevor is closing tonight, so I'm done downstairs at six."

"Seven sounds perfect. Can I bring anything?"

"Don't you dare." At the door, she paused before exiting. "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever's going on, whatever it is that's harder now—you don't have to face it alone. You know that, right?"

The sincerity in her eyes made his throat tight. "I'm starting to."

"Good. I'll see you this evening. Lock up on your way out." She reached over and jangled his keys that hung next to a set of hers on a key rack beside the coat closet door. "Your keys. Be kind to The Beast. He's been through a lot with you, hasn't he?"

Alex thought his keys looked right at home hanging next to hers.

After she left, he stood in the middle of her apartment, feeling more like himself than he had in years. The weight on his shoulders hadn't disappeared, but somehow it felt more manageable.

He hadn't told her everything, about Lena, about Melissa, about the road he'd traveled to get here and the future that loomed in front of him.

But for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe he could face it, could face himself. He would start again. Take one step. Get through one day sober, then another, and then another.

And today, he'd be having two honest conversations. He'd call Ward now and let him know what had happened. Then he'd call his AA mentor, and turn in his chips at tomorrow night's meeting.

Three honest conversations, he reminded himself, if Juno's invitation for dinner tonight was any indication. He'd find the courage to tell her everything tonight, no matter what it cost him.

15

Juno

Theafternoonlullinthe coffee shop gave Juno a chance to catch her breath. She'd been running on autopilot most of the day, her thoughts drifting repeatedly to Alex's unexpected appearance on her doorstep last night and this morning's conversation with him. Fifteen years of bitterness and brokenness between them, and suddenly, here they were, planning to have dinner together so they could talk about it all. She could hardly believe it.

She was sitting at the end of the counter going over the day's transactions on her tablet when Alex came limping through the doorway. She smiled at him as he approached, and he lifted a hand in acknowledgement. The walking boot made his gait awkward, but he looked remarkably better than he had this morning—freshly shaven, his hair combed, wearing a clean blue button-down and jeans.

"Hey," he said, sliding onto a stool at the counter.

"The usual?" she asked when he started perusing the chalkboard style menu on the wall behind her. He always did this; read over the whole menu, then ordered the same thing every day.

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