Page 36 of New Growth
I clenched my jaw. “Fine.”
“I know how much you’ve grown to love your life in California. I’m not asking you to throw it away. But you should come home to visit sometime. Make peace, Elliot. You can’t keep holding onto this anger forever. It’s not healthy.”
I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t anger I was holding onto—it was self-respect. But I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I bit my lip and let her talk, tuning out the voice of the woman who couldn’t see the strength I’d found in myself after the people she thought I should forgive had almost stolen it.
“You’ve always been stubborn, you know that?” she said after her long speech. “But I still love you. You’re my daughter, and I want to see you happy.”
Her words hung in the air, but they didn’t land the way they once had.
“I am happy,” I said, cutting her off before she could say more. “I’m at work. I have to go, so I’ll talk to you later.”
Then, I hung up before she could respond.
?
I’ve developed a bit of a system. I drink for my nerves and coffee for a pick-me-up.
I kept a cute little black flask in my purse in case of emergencies. Nothing crazy, just one little swig to keep me going during the day, and after that frustrating call with my mother, I needed a break.
So I decided to complete my routine and went to get a coffee.
I was in between appointments and needed a quick fix, so I visited a local favorite. This café had become an essential ritual—my quiet time, one of those little pleasures that helped ground me from the chaos of running a business.
I approached the counter, already knowing my order, as they should, too: a mocha latte with oat milk and a buttered croissant. The place wasn’t too busy, but it still had a slight line. At least it was quiet today, some days I could hear the people before I walked in.
“Good morning, Ellie!” Lizzie, the owner, greeted me. “The usual?”
“Yep,” I replied, returning the smile. “Are the croissants fresh?”
She laughed like she knew I’d ask. “I put them in the display ten minutes ago.”
Yes.
“In that case gimme two. I don’t wanna share with Esther.”
She grinned with a quick nod before turning to the espresso machine.
As I waited for my coffee, I found ways to be distracted. I scanned the headlines on my phone, checked emails, and mentally listed everything I needed to complete for the day.
“Mocha latte for Elliot!” one of the baristas called out.Finally.
Creamy chocolatey goodness to help drill some life back into my body. I could almost taste the sugar, but before I could even react, a hand snatched the cup from the counter.
“Hey, I think that’s—”
I looked up, catching a glimpse of the culprit just as he brought the cup to his lips. He didn’t even check the name before he tasted it.
“Mine,” I finished, watching in mild disbelief.Great.
He blinked, lowering the cup slightly so our eyes met. He was handsome at least—tall, fit, with smooth mahogany skin. Maybe a little older than me, early thirties at most. His dark hair was groomed neatly in waves, his beard clean-cut, and his eyes… an odd shade of blue-green. Like an ocean—inviting and unpredictable.
The man gawked at me like I was the first human he’d seen in months. I waited for a response as he struggled to form words, or excuses. A flush of embarrassment crept up his face as he glanced down at the cup and finally managed to force out:
“No, this one’s mine,” he insisted, though his confidence wavered.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Mocha latte with oat milk for Elliot?” I read from my receipt.
