to meet me at the garage tomorrow morning.”
“Why? We don’t open until next Monday.”
I can nearly sense his frustration through the phone. “I have something to show you. Please, Seraphine?”
“Yeah, okay. What time?”
“Nine?”
“I’ll be there.” I end the call and slide my phone into the front pocket of my hoodie.
“Well?” Azalea asks. “What did he say?”
“Nothing really. Told me to meet him at the shop tomorrow morning.”
Myla Rose taps her chin. “Did he say why?”
“Nope.”
“Well, dress sexy,” Azalea says.
“And maybe bring him some coffee?” Magnolia adds.
My lips quirk up into a half-smile. “Hell no; he can bring me coffee.”
“’Atta girl!” Myla Rose crows, and the four of us dissolve into laughter.
The following morning, I decide taking both Azalea and Magnolia’s advice couldn’t hurt. Really, it’s a win-win: a kickass outfit to serve as armor and piping hot coffee as a peace offering.
I dress in ripped jeans and a slouchy, cream-colored sweater that hangs off of my left shoulder in a way that’s as sexy as it is sweet. I can’t resist playing up the sexy just a little though, and layer a mauve lace bralette underneath.
I’m out the door by eight-fifteen, giving myself plenty of time to swing by Dream Beans for coffee. Hopefully Hazel’s working—God love her, the girl remembers everyone’s orders, which will make my caffeinated bribe a sure thing.
The drive from my house to the coffee shop passes in a blur of nerves. “I am a badass. I am worthy. I am loved,” I repeat my little D-I-Y mantra the entire drive until my anxiety settles back down to a dull roar in the recess of my mind.
“Good morning, Seraphine,” my favorite barista calls out as soon as I walk through the door. Between that and scoring curbside parking, maybe for what feels like the first time ever, luck is on my side. “You want your usual?”
“Yes, please,” I say as I step up to the stunning reclaimed wood counter. “And whatever Mateo Reyes usually orders as well.”
“Hmm.” Hazel’s eyebrows inch toward her hairline in surprise. “You got it.”
She tells me my total and swipes my card before sending me to the end of the counter to wait. Three minutes later, I’m out the door with a beverage in each hand.
I crank my RAV4’s radio to max volume for the ride to the shop and sing every song that plays at the top of my lungs. I hit two red lights on the way and add some pretty sweet dance moves at both of them.
I’m sure I look like a fool, but I’ve found that doing my own version of Carpool Karaoke is really soothing when I feel myself spiraling toward a meltdown. I know I should probably talk to an actual therapist instead of spending my free time Googling coping techniques, but so far, they’re working.
As the shop comes into view, I have to blink to make sure I’m not seeing things. The once dingy, faded gray building is now an eye-catching combination of charcoal with red accents.
I park the car and spring out, excited to get a better look.
“You like it?” Mateo asks from behind me.
“Where did you come from?” I ask, whirling around to face him, my heart racing a mile a minute at his unexpected appearance.
His brown eyes light with a smile that could rival the sun. “I was sitting in my truck when you drove up.” He moves to my side and nods toward the building. “You like?”
I glance up at him. “It’s amazing.”
“There’s more.” His fingers brush mine, as if he’s going to take my hand, but he slides his hands in his pockets instead. “C’mon.”
There’s a large something covered by a tarp leaning against the side of the building. “You ready for this?”
“For what?”
“This!” he exclaims, pulling the tarp away.
I can hardly believe what I’m looking at. Tears well up and fall freely as I step forward to get a closer look. “Mateo.” My voice wavers as a gamut of emotions slam into me. “You… you did this?”
“Sí.”
I run my fingers over the large, round sign. It sports a 1970s GTO over the words Dave’s Garage. It’s everything my dad would have wanted and more.
Still in a state of disbelief, I turn toward him and ask, “You did this for me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God!” I throw myself into his arms with enough force that he stumbles backward a bit.
“Whoa, mariposita.” He reluctantly returns my embrace. “You’re happy? You like it?”
“I love it.” My words come out muffled since my face is