Page 15 of Loving Violet
I catch Violet glancing my way a few times. Each time our eyes meet, it sends a jolt through my chest a silent connection, like we’re both aware of something unspoken but powerful between us. I think my previous thought about this attraction being one sided was wrong, or at least I hope so. I finish my coffee and sandwich, reluctant to leave, but knowing I have to get to work.
Before I go, I stop by the counter. “Thanks again for the coffee, Josy. And Violet, it was great meeting you. See you around?”
Violet smiles, her eyes sparkling. “Yeah, see you around, Austin.”
I leave the coffee shop with a spring in my step, a sense of hope, and the anticipation of getting to see Violet again.
Chapter 8
Violet
Adrianand I have survived our second week of living in Honey Springs. I am relieved that Adrian is happy with his school and his friends. He loves getting to play soccer and is excited to go to school every morning, what more can a mom ask for?
“Adrian, did you brush your teeth?”
He has the habit of not brushing his teeth, and I have to constantly remind him.
“Bruh, you know I like to eat first, then brush my teeth,” he replies.
I take a deep breath. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop with the 'bruh'? I’m sick and tired of reminding you. Besides, if you don’t want me to harp on you about brushing your teeth, you should do it every day. In fact, you should do it twice a day, without me telling you anything.”
Adrian lets out an exaggerated sigh, as if I’m the most inconvenient person in his life. “Mom, Iwillbrush my teeth. As soon as I’m done with my breakfast, I’ll go and clean myself up. Please stop reminding me. I know what I have to do.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smirk. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll stop. But just so you know, I’ll be payingveryclose attention. If I see you slacking and not doing it without my encouragement, we’ll have arealproblem, mister. You got me,bruh?”
Adrian rolls his eyes in that dramatic way only preteens can, but a small smile tugs at his lips. “Yes, Mom, I got you.”
We finish getting ready for the day, moving through our usual morning routine. Just as I’m about to grab my bag, Adrian comes charging toward me like a bull, his grin wide and mischievous. Before I can react, he leans in close and blows a gust of minty breath directly into my face.
“See? I told you I was gonna brush my teeth,” he says triumphantly.
I lean back, laughing, and try to push him away. “Okay, okay! I get it. You win. Now get off of me.”
But Adrian isn’t letting go that easily. “But I love you, Mom,” he says with a cheeky grin, and then proceeds to smother me with kisses all over my face.
“Adrian! Stop! You’re too heavy!” I gasp, struggling under his growing weight. At twelve, he’s more like a gangly octopus than a little boy, all arms and legs wrapped around me. His laughter fills the room as I wriggle and try to pry him off.
“I love you too, but let me breathe, for goodness sake!” I say, half-laughing, half-exasperated as I try to peel his arms from my neck.
“Never!” he declares dramatically, holding on tighter for a second before finally letting go with one last kiss on my forehead.
As I catch my breath, I shake my head at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Adrian grins, grabbing his backpack. “I know, Mom. I know.”
And just like that, the chaos is over, replaced by that quiet warmth only moments like this can bring. Being his mom might sometimes feel like wrestling an octopus, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Thirty minutes later, I drop Adrian off at school before heading to Josy’s Sweet Shop and the morning rush is in full swing when I arrive. I quickly put on my apron and get to work, greeting customers and taking orders. Every morning, we have a few customers who are loyal to Josy’s coffee, and I am learning their names slowly but surely. I don’t know why, but I am horrible with names. I forget them so easily, and I hate that I always do. But I don’t forget faces, so I guess that’s a plus for me.
Today, Mr. and Mrs. Baker are here. I know their names by heart, partly because theirs are easy to remember. Mr. Baker is a handyman, and from what I gather, he is a great one. He’s in his late thirties or early forties, a handsome man with bright blue eyes, thick black hair, and a nice smile. Mrs. Baker is a school teacher, also beautiful with short red hair, big green eyes, and killer dimples—a gorgeous woman, in my opinion. They have two kids; their youngest is in the same class as Adrian. She is adorable. Adrian told me that she is one of his new friends.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Baker. How are you?” I ask.
“Please, call us by our first names. You make us feel old,” Mrs. Baker says.
“I’m sorry. I’m just really bad with names, and your last name is easier to remember,” I say.
“Well, I am Miriam, and my husband is John. I will start bringing name tags just for you,” she says with a chuckle.
