I honestly couldn’t have told you what day it was. I had just woken up that Monday morning, hung over from a party I’d gone to the night before with my friend, Chase. I felt the usual groggy, dehydrated feeling you get from a hangover. I thought I would’ve gotten used to it by then, but I hadn’t.

Slowly lifting my limp body out of bed, I tried to sit up straight. My brain was still barely waking up, and I hadn’t realized what day it was yet.

My eyes dragged across the room as I looked around for my phone. I couldn’t see it anywhere, and I didn’t really want to stand up. But I knew I had to at least take a shower, so I forced my body to stand up as straight as possible. I stumbled a few times before walking to the bathroom. Thankfully, the door had already been open, and I walked right in. I glanced around, still feeling dizzy, and happened to spot my phone in the toilet. I didn’t even want to ask why I’d left it there.

Pulling my dripping phone out of the toilet water, I checked to see if it was still working. Well, it was. Stupid me—I’d forgotten that I had a waterproof phone. I saw the time, and it took me a moment to realize how late it was. In that moment, I snapped out of my drowsiness and hopped in the shower. I quickly washed up and got dressed for work as fast as I could.

I was already preparing for the scolding I knew I’d get from my dad. He was always on top of mine and my brother’s sleep schedule. But he’d really started to crack down when I moved out and began renting my own apartment a couple of years earlier. I still technically lived at home, but I often stayed nights at my apartment when I wanted alone time—which was usually on the weekends.

I’d checked my phone again once I was done getting ready. It was 8:47 a.m. No doubt, my dad was already prepping a lecture for me. I wasn’t usually late, but it did happen from time to time—mostly on Mondays after I’d partied the night before.

Hopping into my car, I popped a mint into my mouth because it still smelled like alcohol. I couldn’t think of what else my dad might scold me for, so I drove off.

Sometimes I skipped getting coffee, but that morning it was a must. I hadn’t had much time either, so I couldn’t go to the coffee shop I’d been going to for the past couple of weeks. Besides, it was out of the way.

Luckily for me, there had been a café called Claire’s Coffee on my route to work. I pulled into the parking lot in such a rush that I left my car running and the door wide open as I ran to the entrance. Walking in, the place smelled like the most heavenly café I’d ever been to. I wondered why I hadn’t seen the place before. I considered that it might’ve just opened.

I took in the ambience for just a second longer before marching up to the counter. I’d been behind someone in line and decided to observe the baristas as I waited.

One of them had her back turned to me, so I couldn’t see her face, but her hair was a sandy-blonde color. The other two baristas looked relatively pretty—one with dark-brown hair and the other with light-brown hair.

I’d gotten distracted checking the place out and hadn’t realized I was next. But as I approached the counter, I got this strange feeling inside—a feeling I’d never felt before. I’d been with many women throughout my life, despite only being 27 years old. But something was different about this girl.

“Hello! What can I get for you today?” she said, pulling me out of my trance.

“If you’re still deciding, I can wait. It’s no problem,” she quickly added when I didn’t respond.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I’m ready to order,” the words burst out just as she was about to turn around.

“All right, what would you like?” she replied, with the brightest smile that made me want to sink into my shirt.

“Uhh… I’ll take a coffee, please,” I stretched each word like I’d suddenly forgotten how to speak English.

“So, black coffee? Or a different kind?” She knitted her eyebrows in confusion. Honestly, what had I been thinking when I gave such a vague request?

I tried to think of an answer by skimming the menu board behind her, but I couldn’t settle on one option. There were too many to count. I’d almost always just gone with black coffee, so I didn’t know why I was suddenly avoiding that option.

She kindly smiled at me with a soft chuckle and asked, “Would you like me to surprise you?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah… sure,” I answered impulsively out of nervousness. In my head, I was already scolding myself for acting like such an idiot. I was usually way better at charming girls. Yet for some reason, all of that instantly faded away.

“All right! I’ll whip something up right away. You just take a seat, okay?” she spoke to me as if I were a little boy, her vibrant energy radiating through her voice.

"Yeah, okay... thanks," the words struggled to come out. She simply nodded in response and walked off to start on my drink. One of the other baristas immediately hopped into her place and began taking the next customer's order.

I took a seat at the nearest table, trying to keep my composure as I mentally struck myself over the head. What was up with me that day? I was already late to work, and now this nonsense. My dad might’ve just fired me—or, at the very least, demoted me. I waited for a couple of minutes before she called me up. When she did, I practically jumped out of my seat and hurried to the other end of the counter where she was standing, waiting to hand me my drink.

"What's your name, by the way? I forgot to ask," she chuckled to herself sheepishly.

"Uh, Charles. May I ask for yours?" I replied, thinking she was into me or something.

"Oh, I just meant that I need to write a name on the cup," she said, looking like she felt bad for the misunderstanding.

"Right here," she added shyly, pulling at the nametag on her shirt.

"Ah, Claire. Well, thank you, Claire," I replied as if that had been my initial intention. I was honestly about ready to slap myself in public.

"My pleasure, Charles. Have a wonderful day!" she cheered as she walked away to take the next order.

"Yeah, you too!" I tried to reflect the same cheerful attitude. I stupidly stood there for a moment after, as if there were something else to do. But snapping out of it, I started walking out. I caught a glimpse of her looking at me as I walked out the door, but I continued on my way.

Running back to my car, I saw the door still wide open and hopped in without a second thought. I pondered the whole interaction for a few minutes, beating myself up over my terrible responses. I froze more times than I could count. And practically the whole café felt my embarrassment.

Then, right in the middle of scolding myself, my phone suddenly began ringing. It was my dad. I checked the time—and it was past nine. Zooming out of the parking lot, I made a mental note to return the next day, just to have a chance at making a good second impression.

I kept driving, letting my phone ring. I’d hoped I could get there in time to appease my dad. Unfortunately, the reality of it was far different. Nonetheless, I was set on trying.

Pulling into the law firm parking lot, I didn’t even try to park like a civilized human being. However, I did make sure to turn off the car that time, quickly grabbing my blazer and darting to the entrance. Walking in, I greeted the front desk receptionist as usual. She was an elderly lady in her sixties who’d been working for my dad’s law firm longer than I’d been alive. I’d always figured my dad kept her around because she got things done. She was incredibly skilled and efficient for being as old as she was.

As I should’ve expected, my brother came around the corner of the left hall and walked toward me.

“Sup, Charles! You tell Dad you’re late yet?” he started with his petty behavior, as usual.

“Pretty sure he’s already aware, Luke,” I said with a little too much aggression.

“Oh, good. Just makin’ sure,” he replied, pretending to genuinely care. I nonchalantly raised my eyebrows, not having the energy to deal with him that morning—or ever.

Breezing past him, I took the elevator up to the fourth floor where my dad’s office was and marched up to the door. It happened to be open—most likely because he wanted to give me easy access to his reprimands.

He glanced up from his desk before I’d even reached the door. I could already tell what I was in for.

"Good morning, Charles!" he said with a deceivingly contented smile, which quickly turned into a frown. "I hope your car is at the bottom of Lake Michigan, because there should be no other reason why you are TWO HOURS LATE!" He shouted the last part with enough rage to shake the foundation of the building.

Wanting to combat that, I took a deep breath. Then, in the most sarcastic tone I could manage, I said, "Yeah, Dad... some guys jumped me, took my keys, and drove my car into the lake. Then, I almost got run over by a bus while crossing a street to get here. Oh, and I can't forget about the stray dogs that mauled me for my breakfast sandwich. Yeah, and there was—"

"I am not in the mood for your childish behavior, Charles!" he interrupted, shouting above my pay grade. It was definitely the Italian blood—he sure knew how to yell.

“My patience is running thin with you, boy,” he muttered in Italian as an afterthought. I responded by nodding my head like I cared. He only sighed at that and shooed me off with a flick of his wrist.

“Please get started on your work. You’ve got a lot to do now that we closed several big cases,” he practically sighed the whole sentence out.

"You got it, boss. I’ll get right on it!" I saluted, my mock enthusiasm causing him to sigh again.

I took the elevator back down to the third floor, where my office was as CFO of the firm. But lately, that title was looking pretty weak in terms of authority. My dad could’ve fired me on the spot at any time—and yet he hadn’t. I honestly don’t know why he kept my brother and me around. After all, he treated us like we were absolute disappointments. To be fair, we kind of were. I wasn’t as bad as my brother, but we both drank and partied pretty much every weekend. It was the only thing keeping my life interesting—and even that was getting boring at this point.

The only reason I was sticking around was in hopes of being promoted to CEO. But at the rate I was going, it didn’t seem so auspicious.

My dad had been instigating a competition between my brother and me for the promotion over the past several months. The only thing was, he’d implied that if we didn’t find someone to settle down with and marry, neither of us had a chance. Somewhat fortunately for me, he and my mom had been planning an arranged marriage for me—with the daughter of a close friend and client, someone I’d practically grown up beside. He’d even threatened to give the promotion to mine and my brother’s most hated co-worker, a guy named Karl. He was older than both of us, and despite being a total arrogant jerk, he’d proved to my dad that he was more responsible and adequate for the job than my brother and I combined.

After I powered through as much paperwork as I could, I got off work at 7 p.m. Driving home felt like the slowest, saddest drive. Every day felt like that. I had the most depressing life, and I couldn’t see it at the time.

I decided to avoid seeing my parents that night until the tension eased, so I drove to my apartment instead of going home.

Reaching the door, I fumbled with the keys in my hand until I found the right one. I opened the door, sighing before walking in. "Same old, same old," I muttered to myself out loud.

I threw all my stuff on a table next to the door and dragged my feet as I walked to my bedroom. I quickly brushed and showered before plopping on the bed with a sigh.

My mind ran through all of the day’s events as I lay in bed, beat from a long day.

I heard a faint ringing from the living room but ignored it. All I could think about was the girl from the café. She made me feel new in a way I couldn’t describe. It was the oddest encounter I’d ever had with a woman. I just kept replaying the whole interaction in my head over and over.

And although I felt that there was something I was forgetting, I let myself drift off into sleep.

That Wednesday morning, I woke up with him on my mind. I’m not sure why, but he gave me a strange feeling the day before. I just kept replaying the interaction in my head like a broken record. I had never really been the "dating type," and I’d never even had a boyfriend. But Charles… seemed different. At least I had hoped so. Having never dated, I had no real experience to tell if he was actually a decent guy.

Getting ready for work that morning was a chore in itself. But somehow, I managed to be done in time, leaving my apartment a little before 5:30.

I called up my friend Alina on the way to the café. She happened to pick up, thankfully.

"Hey, Claire. Good morning," she answered in her cute Polish accent.

“Hey, Alina. I’m good. So, I wanted to ask you what you thought about that weird guy yesterday.” My vague question left her silent for a moment.

"Uh... who?" her confused tone confirmed she had no idea who I meant.

"You know, that kind of awkward guy from the café yesterday? He didn’t know what he wanted to order and made the whole place feel uncomfortable." I tried to explain it based on how I remembered it.

"Oh! Yeah, I know who you mean," she said after a second. "He was quite odd, in my opinion," she added sincerely.

"Yeah, he was a bit odd. So, what was your impression of him?" I was curious to hear her take on it.

"Well, it seemed to me like he was just attracted to you, maybe. But he could’ve just been a socially awkward person," she suggested, a bit uncertain.

"Hm, okay," I said, contemplating her response. "Well, are you going to come in today?" I quickly changed the subject, realizing I was thinking about him more than I wanted to.

"Actually, I can’t. I have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on and some more assignments I got yesterday. I probably won’t be able to come in until after 1 or 2 p.m." I could tell she felt bad, knowing she'd be leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"Okay, that’s fine. I’ll talk to you later, Li," I tried to sound as cool with it as possible.

"Are you sure? I can try to come in sooner and do the rest another day," she selflessly offered. "Especially since Mikaela's out too," she added like I was already aware.

"Wait, what!? Mikaela's out for the day as well? Why didn’t she tell me!?" I complained, unintentionally causing Alina some anxiety.

"Uh, I don’t know. She just texted me last night. Said she had a family emergency or something," she explained, almost like it was her responsibility—which only made me a little more upset with Mikaela. "But anyway, I can come in if you need the help," she offered again, clearly not ready to let go of her convictions.

"No really, it’s fine. I can take care of things for half a day," I tried convincing her, even though it was hard not to accept her help. She was always risking everything just to help people, and I couldn’t do that to her.

"All right, but just call me if you need help at all, okay?" I sighed at her expected reply. I knew telling her no would only make her insist more, so I agreed, and we hung up.

After hanging up, the silence that filled my car was haunting. I was going to spend the rest of the dead-silent morning in the café, with no one to keep me distracted from those thoughts.

I made it to the café a bit before six and got everything ready for the day. I always found the morning routine at the café to be the most peaceful and relaxing part of my day. Everything else I had to do to keep the place running was tedious and hectic. But that morning time—those two quiet hours before opening at 8—were mine. I'd spend them baking treats and desserts, getting the coffee started, and filling the café with cozy, warm vibes. Normally, I’d do all that with Alina. We’d mess around a little and talk about whatever came to mind. Sadly, I had to get through that morning alone. It wasn’t terribly unpleasant… but it wasn’t all that great, either.

Somehow, I managed to stay so focused on my morning prep that I didn’t think of Charles once. But that quickly changed when the first customer of the day walked in.

“Hey!” he called out, with a little more enthusiasm than I think he meant to.

"Hello, welcome in! What can I get for you today?" I asked, pretending I didn’t remember him to keep things from feeling awkward.

"I’ll get a... hm... maybe you could surprise me again," he said, assuming I remembered him. I did, but that’s beside the point.

"All right, one surprise comin’ up!" I said, throwing an army salute for some reason. I was acting so out of character again. I knew he could tell that I wasn’t normally like that. Who couldn’t? I made it so obvious that I liked him just by acting all silly.

“Great! Can’t wait to see,” he said, looking so hopeful. So hopeful, I was afraid he was going to ask me out and I’d have to turn him down.

It hadn’t been anything personal. He was handsome and all, but I wasn’t in any emotional place to be ready for a relationship. I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d even say if he did ask me out. I didn’t want to break his heart. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. Then again, don’t they all? I just wasn’t ready to deal with that—not after losing my parents not too long before.

Okay, well… I guess eight years is a pretty long time. But to me, it still felt like I had just lost them.

“So, do you own this place?” he’d caught me off guard just as I was topping the drink in my hand.

“What was that?” I’d asked, trying to contain my nervousness—though I’m sure it was already obvious.

“I was just asking if you owned this café,” he repeated, scratching his neck nervously.

“Oh, uh… yeah, I own the place,” I’d nodded—probably a little too much as I said it.

“Nice. Do you like what you do here? I mean, is it... you know,” he’d chuckled nervously, like he’d already accepted he couldn’t think of the right words.

“Yeah, it’s great. Well, it’s more enjoyable when my friends are here with me, but absolutely. I love running this café. Also, I can’t exactly back out after pouring all my savings into this place, you know?” I’d tried to make the conversation feel a little more natural.

“Yeah, I can understand,” he’d said, biting his lip as he trailed off in thought.

“Really? What do you do for a living?” I’d tilted my head with curiosity. “By the way, your drink.” I slid the cup across the corner of the counter.

“Thanks,” he said with a small, thoughtful smile that filled me with a warm feeling of appreciation. “Uh... well, I’m actually a lawyer. But I mean that I get it—it’s not easy to just change your career after investing everything you have into something.” He’d nodded so much through his explanation that it made me certain he’d noticed my obnoxious nodding earlier.

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” I’d chuckled. “Well, I hope you enjoy your drink and have a wonderful day!” I’d tried to end the conversation as smoothly as possible.

“Yeah, thanks. But, I wouldn’t say it’s from experience. I don’t want to change my career entirely—just the firm I work for,” he added, just as I’d hoped he wouldn’t.

He had taken a quick sip of the drink. “Wow, this is phenomenal!” he’d exclaimed—clearly exaggerating.

“That’s really nice. But trust me, there are better places in town,” I’d said, seriously hoping he’d leave before I became an even bigger nervous wreck.

“I guess I’ll never know,” he’d replied as he walked toward the door, leaving me wondering—and maybe a little nervous—about what exactly he meant by that.

“Oh! My bad. I forgot to pay for this.” He had turned back around—to my dismay. I really wished he hadn’t. At that point, I would’ve been fine with him robbing me, as long as he left. I wasn’t sure I could hold my composure much longer.

“No, I’m sorry. That was my fault. I can’t believe I forgot that,” I said, shaking my head dramatically. “You know what? Let’s say it’s on the house.” I prayed to GOD he would just accept it and leave. He did, and I was just about to turn around when he stopped in his tracks before reaching the door. I mentally sighed, fearing what he would say next.

“Hey, I actually wanted to ask if you’d go out for a cup of coffee with me sometime. Or… maybe something else.” His voice had suddenly turned nervous.

“Uh, I’m not really—” My brain had short-circuited. I had absolutely no idea what to say. He just stood there, awkwardly waiting for a response, and I couldn’t think of anything. “It’s... not exactly the best move for me right now, if you know what I mean,” my brain attempted to reboot.

“No, yeah, of course. That’s totally cool,” he said, trying to play it off—but it was clear it stung.

“Well, I do think you’re nice, but… you know what?” I swallowed the lump of impending regret in my throat. “How about you come here every single day for two weeks straight, and then I’ll go on one date with you.” His eyes immediately lit up with joy, which only made me regret what I’d said even more.

“Okay, will do. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He’d twisted on the heel of his slacks and practically hopped out the door like a little boy who’d just gotten an ice cream cone. He was finally gone. Yet I hadn’t felt as relieved as I thought I would. I only thought about him more.

I tried dealing with customers over the next few hours without thinking about it too much, but the thoughts refused to depart from me. I remembered that I had prayed to GOD for a genuinely nice guy earlier that year—but I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Then again, I also considered that he could’ve been a test. Maybe he wasn’t the one GOD had in mind for me, but perhaps he was meant to help me get comfortable with dating before the real one came along.

Thanks be to the Lord, because Alina had shown up just shy of noon. Although she was quite timid and didn’t talk much, she’d gone on about how she’d been planning to surprise-visit her parents in Poland. I knew how much that meant to her—especially since her parents had practically disowned her after she professed her faith in Jesus to them. I’d tried to be supportive at the time, despite dealing with my own emotional damage. Thankfully, she ended up healing on her own and was finally ready to go back.

She explained that she wanted to stay for a week, trying to reconcile with them and convince them that her faith was a good thing. I’d been honest about how great I thought that was, but I was afraid to tell her I didn’t think her parents would be so willing to listen, considering their previous reaction. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. Several customers had walked in, and we were forced to give our attention to them.

Before the first person approached the counter, I had already concluded that I should leave everything up to GOD—and trust that both our situations would turn out perfectly according to His will.

The next morning, I returned to the coffee shop. When I walked in, I didn’t see Claire anywhere—only the girl with the dark brown hair from before. I’d peeked at her nametag as I came up to the counter. It said Alina.

“Welcome in!” She greeted me with an odd accent I’d never heard before.

“Hello. Does Claire happen to be here today?” I immediately jumped to the point.

“Huh? Oh! No, she’s not. She took the day off.” She’d seemed shocked and confused at first, probably wondering how I knew Claire. That likely meant they were friends.

“Oh, okay. I’ll just get a cappuccino then, thank you.” I had decided to let it go, not wanting to look like a creep. Though in my head, I was going over all the possible reasons she might’ve had for avoiding me—literally the day after making a deal to go out with me. I’d begun to think she wasn’t all that different from other girls—not keeping her word and disappearing without a heads-up.

“All right, here ya go! That comes out to $5.50.” She’d managed to make the drink faster than Claire had the day before. But that was only because I’d kept Claire busy with conversation.

“Thanks,” I’d replied, swiping my card. “Have a good one,” I said hurriedly.

“You too!” her voice had cheered after me.

I hadn’t even bothered to linger around that morning. I just jumped straight into my car and drove off to work.

I kid you not, my dad had been waiting for me by the entrance. The moment I walked through the glass doors, he was standing by the receptionist’s desk with his arms crossed over his chest. I hadn’t even tried to hide my annoyance—I just rolled my eyes directly at him and sighed as loudly as I could.

“Oh, I apologize, Charles. I’ve been too harsh on you. Maybe you should get a three-week, all-expenses-paid vacation to the Caribbean.” His sarcastic tone had been so dramatic, it made me realize exactly where I’d gotten it from.

“I accept your apology, Father. And I will gladly take you up on that offer,” I’d replied smugly.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His nostrils had begun to flare. Everyone in the lobby had awkwardly shuffled away as my dad raised his voice.

“Isn’t it?” I replied flippantly.

“Charles, you were nowhere to be seen yesterday; you’ve been late three days in a row, and you skipped our dinner with the Aiellos. I’m this close to demoting you,” he scolded me like a child.

“Wow, I should get a medal for all those achievements,” I said, still facetious, having had no desire to even try to remain professional with my dad. His only response had been lifting his hand to his forehead and sighing. He was clearly tired of my antics—but I hadn’t been nearly done having fun with it. Still, I’d known I wouldn’t get very far unless I gave him a little of what he wanted.

“You’re right, Dad. I apologize. That was very irresponsible of me. I’d be willing to attend a dinner with the Aiellos tonight… if you’re still willing to give me a chance.” I had looked at him with a fake contrite expression.

He hadn’t been difficult to satisfy—as long as you told him he was 100% right.

He’d looked up at me, contemplating his answer. He’d seemed tired and disappointed at the same time.

“Be there by 7. No later,” he finally said, walking off while shaking his head and sighing.

“You can count on it, Dad!” I had yelled after him, just to irritate him a little more.

I still don’t really know why I’d been so insistent on annoying my dad. But I’d had myself convinced I did it because of how nitpicky and strict he always was.

Several hours later, I was getting off work and making my way to downtown Chicago. My dad had texted me the address—apparently the place was called The Maple.

I’d driven the whole way with Claire on my mind, asking myself all the questions I couldn’t ask her. Where did she go? Why didn’t she show up? Did she never intend to give me a chance? It had been an endless whirlwind of the same questions all day. Even when I’d pulled into a parking spot outside the restaurant, I refused to stop thinking about her.

Adjusting my suit, I walked through the door and almost immediately spotted my parents and the Aiellos at a large table in the back. Sighing to myself, I went up to the table, greeted them, and sat down. My parents had both given me a bold glare, which I ignored as I ordered.

I’d remained silent the entire time while my parents and the Aiellos discussed marital plans for me and the Aiellos’ daughter, Natalie. To me, it had seemed more like business plans than anything else. This arranged marriage was just a way to seal the deal between both families—a truce, a contract. I hadn’t been paying attention to much of the conversation, but I did catch a few things here and there. They obviously wanted a big, fancy, expensive wedding. My parents only cared about their plans to become business partners as a result of the marriage. They couldn’t have cared less about the marriage itself.

While I’d been deep in thought, my dad snapped me out of it with yet another reprimand. I honestly couldn’t even say it was embarrassing anymore—I’d just gotten tired of it.

“Do you have nothing to say, Charles? Mr. Aiello is asking you a question,” my dad said, looking ashamed of me.

“Oh, I’m sorry. What did you ask?” I had pretended to care, though it was clear I didn’t.

“I simply want to know your questions and concerns about all of this,” Antonio Aiello had spoken in his thick Italian accent. My dad had an Italian accent too, but it was nowhere near as thick—or annoying—as Antonio’s.

“Uh, nope. I wasn’t concerned about anything, to be honest.” I’d loosely poked at the pasta I’d ordered, which was ironic since I hadn’t even liked pasta.

“Show some respect, Charles,” my dad had muttered under his breath, nudging my shoulder.

“Oh, I apologize. It’s just that I didn’t care at all. This was your plan, after all—not mine or Natalie’s,” I’d answered, already feeling my dad’s hidden, boiling rage.

“I apologize, Antonio. My son isn’t the most mature for his age,” my dad had said pettily, apologizing on my behalf.

“Well, I wasn’t sorry,” I replied with a shrug. My dad gave me a look that told me I was dead as soon as we walked out that door.

“I don’t think that will go well with our daughter. I would prefer she be married to a… mature, responsible man,” Antonio had said spitefully, looking at me with clear disgust.

“He’s just having a bad day. He’s normally much more behaved than this,” my dad had said, speaking for me again and elbowing me in the rib. That had angered me so much, you don’t even know.

“I can speak for myself, Harvey,” I said, calling my dad by his name as I stood up from my chair. The Aiellos had looked appalled. My dad remained silent, keeping his gaze locked on Antonio. And my mom? She had just sipped her wine without even batting an eye in my direction.

“If you’ll excuse me now, I had someplace to be. The pasta was absolute trash, by the way.” I’d hoped that insult had stung them all just a little.

I’d heard my dad get up as I walked out the door. Sadly for him, he was too late. The car was already on, and I was speeding off before he even made it to the glass entrance.

It had been yet another exhausting day that made me regret getting up at all. I’d been so drained that the moment I got to my bed, I collapsed onto it. The only thought circling my mind until I fell asleep was, I have to see Claire.