Fighter (Coffee Shop #4) - Katie Cross Page 0,76

a bond with her. A sense of broken-heart camaraderie. Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back.

“Me too,” I whispered.

She tapped her teeth together, as if considering something. When the bell rang indicating a new customer in the drive-through, she ignored it to quietly say, “The first few months are the worst. Eventually, you learn how to live without them again, which brings its own sorrow. I hope healing for you is quick.”

With that, she spun on her heels and headed to the window. I watched her go, my stomach in a knot, until I found the strength to turn away.

The fresh air jolted me back to reality again. Although rage still simmered in the background, and I deeply dreaded work today, Ellie was right. Her brief moment reminded me that I had approached all of this wrong. I had to think of getting through this differently.

Smaller.

Today, I just had to get through the day without crying on a customer. That would be my ultimate goal.

The first everything after a breakup was always the hardest. First day. First week. First laugh. First date. I just had to re-learn that I could still exist without them. Had to re-learn that the world moved on, and so could I. The first day of that months-long process was always the hardest.

Today. I just had to get today behind me.

The backlights to the counter were still off when I stepped inside the Diner, slapped my paper on the counter in front of Bert, and looked him straight in the eye. Dagny, only a few steps away, eyed the paper.

Then she gasped.

“Sorry, Bert,” I said. “But it's time for me to leave.”

27

Benjamin

The new take-care-of-Ava-without-Serafina plan seemed almost foolproof. Right now, it might be the only way I could take care of Sera, the way she always took care of us.

After school, Ava would get off the bus at the same stop by the grocery store, but instead of going to the Diner, she'd walk to the MMA Center. She'd hang out at the office with me for half an hour and do her homework while I finished up.

Then we'd leave at four every day to go home, do chores, play. I'd cook dinner. She could have bathtime, then go to bed after we read her books to practice. It's what we'd done before . . . sort of. If getting home at eight or nine at night constituted routine. The new plan offered everything she needed, and those needs were fulfilled by her actual parent. Routine. Parental guidance. Positive reinforcement.

Except I had no idea how to realistically make this happen.

First, I had no idea how to fix meals that she'd ravenously eat, the way she did for Serafina. Ava rarely liked what I had attempted in the past, and the fights it bred over dinner weren't worth the work. I'd have to look into a meal delivery service, which was unlikely in the mountains. Or, maybe, just learn simpler stuff. Spaghetti that didn't taste like watered-down tomato soup with firm noodles, for one.

Second, laundry, housework, oil changes, grocery shopping, and a dozen other adult things had to fit in this plan somewhere. I hated doing all of that, but a maid service felt too much like a privacy invasion. Plus, Ava had to learn to do chores, but someone also had to teach her, and that person had to be me. Serafina had created a chore chart somewhere, but I'd already lost it.

Third, my plan still didn't address the fact that Sadie had hated my guts and made it her life mission to turn Ava against me. Nothing but figuring out how to talk to Ava about her mother would fix that problem. That conversation? Ticking time bomb.

Finally, none of this involved Serafina. And that was a much bigger problem than I originally anticipated on every single level.

I frowned at my phone as I considered the text message I'd just sent her. Had she seen it? In hindsight, it sounded too abrupt. I'd just been spinning the idea out and wanted to give her an out. A reason to avoid the awkwardness of seeing me after last night, particularly with all Talmage had given her to worry about. She needed less on her plate, not more, and not dealing with a sassy first-grader would surely lighten her load.

Amidst all this was the undeniable truth that last night, she'd single-handedly given me the emotional smackdown of my life. Not even talking to my ailing mother,

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