“So like I said, she had thick, dark hair with blonde highlights and she looked young, college age maybe. Her questions were pointed, about the shooting. And she kept looking around the place.”
I could feel the tension coiling in his body. “Looking around at what?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Where was the sexy but gruff man who’d rocked my world and why had this cold automaton showed up in his place? That was when I realized that the man next to me, this version of Cross, this was him. “I don’t know. She touched the paintbrushes, palettes and mixers but her eyes were on the ceiling.”
He fell silent and I waited until he gathered his thoughts. “Would you recognize her if you saw her again?”
“Of course, she was five feet in front of me the entire time.”
“Is this her?” Cross shoved the phone in my face and showed me a photo of the woman who’d come into my shop, only she was missing her tacky blond highlights.
“Yeah, it sure is.”
“Thanks.” Apparently that really was it and I nodded my acceptance. I had no expectations of Cross other than basic human decency but it still hurt to be so soundly rejected.
“No problem,” I replied because I would never in a million years make a fool out of myself over a man. Not ever again. I tried that once and I didn’t like how it ended.
Before we even entered my house, he waved his phone at me in a sort of goodbye and turned back to his bike parked behind the shop.
***
I was just about to rinse the kale when the alarm on my phone sounded and I groaned. It was time to pick up Beau from school and get him to yet another appointment with Dr. Yang. His asthma attacks had increased in frequency lately, but not in intensity. Even though the episodes scared me numb, I had to believe he wouldn’t have this horrible illness forever.
Luckily the appointment was uneventful, which I was learning as the mother of a child with a chronic illness was as good as it got. Other than an hour wait to get into the examining room, the appointment went as expected. No better but no worse.
On the way home I asked, “How are you feeling today?”
“I hate the nebulizer.”
“Remember what we said about hate, honey.” I didn’t want him to grow up throwing around such loaded words when he didn’t have to. This world was filled with too much negativity as it was.
Beau sighed heavily and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Fine. I detest the nebulizer and I don’t like the other treatments either. I just want to be like everyone else, Mom.”
“What a boring place this world would be if we were all the same.” It was a sentiment I wished my parents had told me instead of drilling conformity into me until I turned into the rebellious daughter they couldn’t control. Until they gave me the message they didn’t want me.
“You know what I mean, Mom.”
“I do,” I admitted on a weary sigh because I did know, and I understood more than he could understan
d at his tender age. “And I wish I could make it all go away, believe me I do. But for now all we can do is cope with the cards we have.”
He frowned at me from the passenger seat, a tiny smile twitching on the right side of his mouth. “You said that wrong.”
“Did I?” He gave an exaggerated nod but all I cared about was that his smile grew bigger and bigger. “What would you say about pizza for dinner?” Even though he didn’t have a traditional diet, Beau was no different from any other kid who’d jump for joy at the mention of pizza.
“Okay.” It was reluctant acceptance but I knew that wouldn’t last long. “Key Largo’s?”
“Where else?” I’d never ever set foot inside a tropical themed pizza parlor until moving to Nevada, but Key Largo Pizza Haven never did anything halfway. The goddesses must have been shining down on me because we found a spot inside the parking lot, not that it would make the wait any shorter but if Beau suffered another attack I’d have to carry him and for that, distance mattered.
The place smelled amazing, like it always did because for some reason coconut oil and pizza sauce worked together.
“Cross!” Beau darted between four tables, narrowly missing a pitcher of beer.
“Beau,” I called, always worried when he ran when he should walk, anxious that exertion would bring on an attack. If only I had the secret to putting a level head on such young shoulders.
Then I spotted the reason for his excitement. Cross sitting by himself in a booth, a large pizza on the table in front of him. He looked good, even with the bruising. “Hey kiddo, how’s it going?” I heard him say as I came up behind Beau.
“Okay,” Beau said, pushing his glasses up again. “Did you get picked on too?” Beau pointed to his still healing busted lip and Cross grinned.