Page 23 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

It’s been so long since I've taken a stroll through a public park or garden that I can’t even remember the last time I did so. There were perfectly manicured lawns and flowerbeds behind the mansion back in L.A., but even there, I had someone watching over me like a hawk. Security guards posted at eitherend, seemingly for my protection from outsiders getting in, but it always felt as if my mother had them there to make sure I couldn’t get out.

Now, however, that isn’t the case. I make my schedule, and it's wide open.

“All my afternoons are free. So, I most certainly will. Now, about this amazing coffee I keep smelling.”

Making friends is definitely on my to-do list, but coffee is number one. After I’m well caffeinated, he is more than welcome to tell me his life story.

“Of course. Let’s see what we have.”

Tobias picks up my mug and inspects it between alternating glances my way. He seems to be figuring something out. I have no idea what he’s doing but wait until he’s ready to take my order. Which if he doesn’t do soon, I might die.

“This is a good pick. You know you can tell a lot about a person based on the mug they pick.”

“Really?” I ask. I didn’t know mug divination was a thing.

“Absolutely. It’s like a window into a person’s personality and mood. For instance, this is my first time ever meeting you, but based on your cup choice, it is a great one; by the way, I can tell you’re in a good mood today. That you’re artistic and creative, have a silly sense of humor, and like pretty things just because they’re pretty. You also like animals of the unusual or extinct variety.”

I laugh because he’s pretty dead on with his assumptions. Even though I haven’t had a pet since I was a child, I’ve always loved animals of all kinds.

“You’re really good at that. Is it a skill you were born with or learned?”

He shrugs and grins, his dark emerald eyes sparkling.Again, with the sparkling?I wonder if he’s related to Becca over at Dottie’s. Maybe it’s a family trait.

“A bit of both. It’s not as good as my ability to discern exactly what coffee you need.”

“Need?” I question with one raised eyebrow.

I mean, I completely agree that I need coffee to function, but how would he know what Ineed?

“Yes. Although everyone has their signature coffee order, that’s not always what theyneed.”

There’s something about Tobias, such as his relaxed posture and knowing gaze, that makes him appear wiser than any barista should be. It is as if he has aged wisdom gained through years of life experiences. Making him feel like a man far older than the mid-twenties he looks.

Curious to see if his coffee-discerning abilities are as on par as his mug divination, I give in and ask the question I know he’s waiting for.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What do I need today?”

Tobias squints his eyes and pinches his lips as he contemplates with a perceptive glint in his eye. “Today, you need something familiar but with a little extra sweetness to go with that pep in your step. A hot coffee to match the warmth already settling in your chest. You need something cozy but fresh. A latte with skim milk and a drizzle of caramel.”

I’m stunned momentarily silent. No one has ever pinpointed what I needed so accurately. Everyone always focused on what others wanted and demanded, not what I needed. It may only be a coffee order, but Tobias has paid more attention to me in these five minutes than my mother has in the past ten years.

Trying to keep myself from crying like a lunatic because of a coffee order, I force a light laugh and smile, shaking away the weird sensation of finally being seen so that I can refocus on placing my drink order.

“Holy shit, you’re psychic.”

“Not psychic, but I do what I can.”

The aged wisdom appearance transforms back into his boyish demeanor, and he once again becomes the perky barista he first was when I entered.

Setting my pink T-rex mug next to the espresso machine, he rings me up, and I pay.

Standing at the pick-up counter, I wait for this magical latte, watching the few patrons enjoying their own magical coffees. When Tobias hand delivers my pink T-rex mug, he stands waiting for me to take my first sip. When I do, I think my brain shuts off. It’s that good. He gives me anI told you sowink and grin before returning to the register to help a waiting customer.

My pink T-rex mug and I take a seat at a table by the window with a view of the street beyond. I take a Polaroid of my T-rex coffee sitting on the colorful little table and add it to my growing collection in my notebook. Thumbing through the ones I’ve taken along this crazy journey into independence.

Considering all my recent experiences, I feel a little guilty about abandoning my fans, but I know if I were to tell any of them why I left, they would agree with me.

One of the photos stands out among the stack. One with a creature that should appear fearsome but only looks curious and a bit cuddly. I stare at it far too long as I sip my coffee. Wondering where he came from and why he was so docile and friendly. Maybe he’s been around the town for years and grown familiar with humans? Even knowing he could possibly be a violent beast that could easily tear my throat out, I still want to see the wolf again. His fur was soft and blacker than a starless night. The picture doesn’t do him justice; I need to take another one. Closer up to get the distinct brightness of those sapphire eyes against his black fur.

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