Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Josie comes to stand beside me, and after staring at Bennett for a long beat, she turns directly to me. Her face is gentle and considerate, but it’s also teasing. “I’m open-minded, Clay, but if you tell me this is your lover and your baby, we’re going to have to figure some stuff out.”
Bennett’s eyebrows draw together, and I guffaw, pulling Josie up and under my arm as I introduce them.
“Josie, this is my best friend, Bennett. We grew up together in New York. He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have, and I haven’t seen him since I left.”
“And the baby?” Josie asks, glancing between the two of us a few times before her eyes latch on to the little baby doll in the car seat. I’m no expert when it comes to babies, but this little lady dressed in a pink outfit is so small, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was literally born yesterday.
I smile down at the baby, taking in the way her eyes are closed shut with sleep and the way her blond hair makes her look downright angelic. I move my eyes back to Bennett. “You didn’t steal her, did you?”
Josie smacks me in the chest. “Clay.”
“She’s mine,” Bennett affirms then, looking down in awe before looking back at me and Josie. “And it’s a long story. But man, I could really use your help. I can’t go back to New York. Summer and I…her name’s Summer…we can’t go back to New York.”
“Say no more,” I reply without hesitation, ready and willing to do whatever’s necessary.
Josie rolls her eyes and pushes me again. “While that’s a sweet sentiment, the whole say no more thing, I’m personally hoping you’ll say a little more. What do you need? A place to stay? A job? Something else? The more we know, the better we’ll be able to help you.”
“Yeah,” I agree then. “What she said.”
Josie shoots me a look, and I know in an instant the best thing I can do is shut up. Bennett may be brand-new to Josie’s life, but with one word about how important he is to me, she’s ready to welcome him and Summer with open arms.
Family to me is family to her. Just like that.
Funny thing—when I’m not messing around, I’m not feeling afraid of much of anything anymore. Josie Ellis makes sure of that.
After The Moment: Part 1
The “It’s Only Been Four Months” Pain
8
Josie
Tuesday, April 11th
Eileen Martin snaps a photo of the glass bakery case at the front, and I straighten the mason jars filled with flowers on the tables with a million watts of nervous energy.
For the last three months, I’ve poured my every waking moment and even more dollars into building the coffee shop I’ve always dreamed of. It’s been both a labor of love and just plain old labor, and opening it today seems like the conclusion of a journey that was years in the making.
I spent many hours and days and weeks and months and years sketching designs and dreaming up drinks, and to say that it’s actually happening now feels surreal. Grandma Rose would be so proud to see me making it come to fruition, even if it means I’m twenty grand in debt and scared to death.
But I did it. At twenty-eight years old, I’m officially a proud Red Bridge business owner of a brand-new coffee shop named CAFFEINE.
Sheriff Peeler pokes his head in the door and smiles, and I straighten my deep green apron down my hips. “Hey, Josie. You about ready to do the ribbon ceremony? Crowd’s started to crow and holler out here about needing some caffeine.”
He smirks at his little pun, having used the name of my shop playfully.
I smile, take one last look around at the brick walls, wood beams, and my very first barista and close friend from the diner Todd behind the counter, and nod. “Yep. I think CAFFEINE is officially ready to open.”
“Well, all right then. I’ll tell ’em to get the ribbon ready,” Pete replies, knocking once on the wood frame of the door before stepping back into the group of townspeople who’ve gathered outside.
I look around for a brief moment to find someone to share my excitement, and it’s only then that I feel the ever-present pit in my stomach—there isn’t anyone.
Not my dad or my grandma or either of my sisters…and not Clay either.
The last one is my fault and, nearly four months since making it so, still for the best. But it doesn’t make the pain feel any better.
I put a splayed hand on the surface of my stomach and take a deep breath. “This is good, Josie,” I say to myself, my voice so quiet I can hardly even hear it. “You’re doing the things you always talked about and moving on with your life.” I feel the dull ache of my always-present emptiness, and I hate that even now, in the midst of making one of my biggest dreams come true, memories of the bright, piercing, terrifying light when I was in that room all by myself threaten to take over my thoughts. I swallow hard against the painful onslaught and tell myself it doesn’t get any worse than that. This is the dream. This is happy. This is not that. “You’re—”