Page 4 of Three More Shots
“Okay, thank you. Thank you very much.”
Man-bun seems just as relieved as she is to complete the transaction and have her move away from him and closer to me, giving me the opportunity to study her while she’s engrossed with her daughter.
“Steele?”
Finally. I grab my drink and take a long sip. Thank god for caffeine. I know the effects aren’t instantaneous, but it sure as hell feels like it when the steaming liquid hits my mouth. I’m a damn addict. And a damn moron for still standing here watching Corinne and her daughter. I can’t seem to make myself walk away.
Ainsley shifts from side to side, apparently unable to stand still and be quiet. “How come you didn’t get a drink too?”
Corinne shrugs as if the question is no big deal. Yet another emotion – maybe sorrow – flares on her face. “That was Ginger’s gift to you for Easter, remember?”
“I would’ve shared.”
No uncertainty this time. Pure pride is unmistakable in her smile and in her eyes from the heartfelt sentiment. “I know you would’ve. Thank you.”
Ainsley hugs her mom, squeezing her tight until Corinne’s name is called. Hell, I even almost smile at the affection between them and the kid’s shriek of delight, even if she is kind of a brat. Painfully slow Ainsley unwraps a straw, shredding shards of paper like confetti onto the floor from her awkward fingers, and shoves the red plastic into the whipped cream. Catching the cascading white streaks with her tongue when her jostling makes the cup overflow, while her mom picks up the scraps of wrapper off the tile and tosses them into the trash.
“Are you ready?”
A furious nod to her mother’s question while she slurps makes Corinne laugh, causing me to feel some kind of rare pleasure that they’re content again. I shake my own stupid head, unsure what the hell is wrong with me. I need to go and get shit done. Yet I keep standing here, not even acting like I’m not fucking stalking them by pretending to jack around with my phone or skim the newspaper lying on the stool next to me. I just stare.
“Look at these, Mommy. Aren’t they beautiful?” Ainsley stops at the curio cabinet next to the sugar and creamer station. Rows of insulated cups fill all four shelves. The coffee house’s sparkling gold logo decorates each glass.
“Yes, the colors remind me of spring.”
With tolerance I can’t fathom, she waits while her daughter reverently touches each lid. One by one. Row after row. Again and again.
“Blue. Green. Pink. Yellow. Silver. Purple. There’s four of each except the pink. I guess that’s the color everyone likes the most.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Can we get one, or do we not have enough money?”
The shame returns for a flash, but Corinne smiles an enormous smile even I know is fake. “We don’t have enough money today, but your birthday’s coming up, so maybe you’ll get one then.”
“I hope so.”
So wistful as she stares at them. I almost pull my wallet out and buy one for her. What the hell? When did I turn all sappy?
“We better get going. We’ve got our other errands, remember?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Her small fingers wrap around her mother’s hand, and they stroll to the door. And, just like the psycho I’ve suddenly turned into, I follow behind them, past a young couple watching them too rather than the laptops propped in front of them.
Once they’ve cleared the door, the man shakes his head. “That girl was weird.”
“Don’t be a jerk, Gary. She’s probably autistic or something.”
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t think about that.”
Instead of shoving the handle, I pause from the guy’s faux pas, letting the conversation behind me sink in.
Autistic.
I didn’t think about that either. It makes sense, I guess. I thought that term meant you couldn’t talk or interact with people, which she obviously does. But something is definitely off.
I stride outside with my gaze glued toward their direction, easily catching sight of them with Corinne’s small silver sedan parked three spots down from my SUV. Unbelievably, I find myself grimacing with worry that Ainsley will fall as she maneuvers awkwardly in her tiny heels, trying to balance her drink and climb into their vehicle. Her mom waits once again, just as serene and cheerful as before.
