Page 60 of Take It Till You Make It
Glory’s sigh sounds a little like a hiccup. I think she might be crying too. “You’ll never ever forget him. But living your best life will honor him and the time you had together.”
Finally, I’m starting to get control of myself again. The tears are ebbing, and I’m left with a strange, detached feeling, like what I just went through happened to someone else and I only watched. My head feels empty of thoughts and filled with fog. I dig through my bag until I find tissues to wipe my tears and blow my nose.
“You okay?” Glory asks.
I blow air through my lips. “I guess. Man, I think that has been building for a long time. Thanks, Glore.”
“I wish I was there to hug you.”
“Yeah, I do too.” I take a deep breath. “But I think that really helped. So, seriously, thank you.”
“I will always be there for you. Unless I’m with a hot guy, then you’re on your own until I’m done with him.”
My laughter feels good. I rub my face. “Noted.”
“Speaking of hot guys, tomorrow you have to tell me about this upcoming date.”
A glimmer of excitement sparks in my belly when she mentions it. “I will. You can help me plan it.”
“Will do. You okay, Ari?”
I wrinkle my nose as a wave of emotions crashes through me, but I smile at my phone. “I am. I think I really am okay now. Well, at least I’m heading in that direction.”
“Okay then,” Glory says. “Go attack Crispin Moore with your face.”
“Yeah, we’re not at that level of greeting yet, but thanks for the suggestion.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’msurprised to find Crispin sitting in my makeup chair again. He has a devilish expression until he gets a good look at me, and then he’s out of the seat and standing before me in a second. His hands hover beside my arms like he wants to grip me or hold me.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“Oh.” I wave a hand like it’s nothing. “You know, grief. It’s a rollercoaster. But luckily, I have the world’s best best friend. She got me through it.”
Crispin’s mouth flaps like he’s trying to figure out how best to respond.
I wave my hand again. “Really, don’t worry about it. This,” I point to my face to indicate the blotches and red eyes, “has been a long time coming.”
He huffs out a breath, and his shoulders deflate. “I’m really sorry, Ari. Is there anything I can do?”
Even as my drying tears turn my cheeks into the crusty surface of the moon, I feel a soft smile curving on my face. He’s genuinely concerned. It’s sweet. “No, but thank you.” I purposefully straighten my back and shake my head to clear it. “So, what’s up? If you’re going to show up here every morning, you can at least bring a flat white with oat milk, a ristretto shot, and microfoam.” I point to him and narrow my eyes. “Extra hot.”
His eyebrows arch comically. “A what-now?”
I laugh. “Glory and I used to look up the most complicated drinks we could order to see if our barista friend, Jason, could keep up. He never once had to ask a co-worker or look up any part of our order. The man is a barista savant. His tulip stack was never mistaken for anything else, if you know what I’m talking about.”
“I literally have no clue.” Crispin is examining me like I might have cried some sanity away.
I sigh. “That’s how I discovered my favorite drink. By trying to stump Jason.”
“The flat white with oat milk? Is that your favorite?”
“Only with a ristretto shot and microfoam. Obviously.”
Crispin nods. “And extra hot.”
“A must.”
