“Well, aren’t you a welcome sight.” Her smile begged to return, and she granted allowance. “I was just itching to make a decaf soy latte, and here you are.”
“I know you’re lying, but I’ll believe you because I want it.” Mr. Mac shuffled toward the counter, his eyes twinkling beneath his trademark bushy eyebrows. “You got anything new for my sweet tooth?”
He patted the front pocket of his hunter-green button-down and retrieved his wallet with slightly shaky, darkly veined hands. Hands that once fought as a Marine and had held the same woman for over sixty years. A true hero.
“I’m working on a new recipe, but it’s not ready yet.” She glanced dubiously at the bowl. “It might not ever be, honestly.”
“You’re the best baker I know, Miss Bri.”
“I do have plenty of these Parisian cookies.” Bri tapped the display. “Buttercream frosting and Eiffel Towers.”
“I’ll take three.” The edge of his Marine insignia tattoo peeked from the rolled-up cuff of his shirt as he pulled out a handful of bills.
Jill, his nurse who waited by the door, cleared her throat pointedly. “I’m assuming two of those are for Betty? You know you can’t have all three, sir.”
“I was going to give one to you, you old nag.” He winked at Bri and lowered his voice. “Make it four.”
“No one tries to sneak extra sugar on my watch, Mr. Mac.” Jill grinned, crossing her arms over her dark scrubs. “I know you’re anxious to rejoin your bride, but we don’t want you bailing out of here too soon, now.”
He grumbled back good-naturedly as Bri bagged his purchase—three cookies—and started working on his latte. The door opened again, and Jill stepped aside as Gerard entered.
Bri’s breath hitched and her hand stumbled on the steamer handle. It sputtered—sort of like her heart as he strode toward her, nodding to Mr. Mac before locking eyes on Bri. She fought to regain control of the machine. They’d just seen each other last night—and his article was all but wrapped up. Why was he here?
Mr. Mac’s thick brows raised and furrowed. His wiry gray mustache couldn’t begin to hide the mischievous grin that spread across his weathered cheeks. “I’ll be. Finally!”
Heat climbed up Bri’s neck as she reached for a lid. “It’s not what you think.” She kept her voice down, hoping he’d get the hint to do the same. But Mr. Mac continued to look back and forth between her and Gerard like an awed spectator at a professional ping-pong tournament.
“Oh, I think it is.” Mr. Mac took his bag of cookies and stole a bite of one with a furtive glance over his shoulder at Jill. Crumbs dusted his mustache, and the twinkle in his eyes took over as he slid the evidence back into the sack. “But it’s never what we think it’s going to look like, is it?”
She snapped the lid securely onto the latte cup, but then her hands stilled. Never what you thought it was going to look like. That perfectly described Casey and Nathan. Perfectly described this new revelation about her parents.
Perfectly described her and Gerard? She swallowed.
“Me and Betty overcame more than one obstacle in our day.” Mr. Mac shrugged. “And we have a pretty big one keeping us apart right now.” A shadow of sadness battled the light in his wise eyes. “But it’s a temporary long distance. Everything can be overcome eventually, my dear.”
Emotion balled in her throat and Bri nodded, unable and unwilling to speak past the lump. Her parents had overcome their obstacle, too, hadn’t they? It hadn’t been all peaches and cream, as she now knew—but they’d made it. They were still together and still loved each other the day of the wreck.
Could she and Gerard overcome long distance? And his commitment issues? And her fears of repeating the past?
Was that even a choice she had the liberty to make?
She shot Gerard a glance across the room. He’d remained a polite distance back, as if sensing the importance of the conversation. Or maybe he just remembered the last time he’d put his foot in his mouth about the kind old man.
“Maybe.” She fiddled with the lid on the jar of coffee grounds perched next to the coffeepot, screwing it on and off again. Her heart raced. “But what about in the meantime?” Open. Shut. Open. Shut.
“In the meantime . . .” Mr. Mac released a slow breath, his eyebrows dipping as he thought. “You make every moment count. You pray. You sneak sugar past your warden, bring flowers to the ones you love, even when they’re no longer with you—and look forward to the next time you get to see them.” He shot his gaze to the left, where Gerard lurked. “Whether that’s in this world or the next.”
Finally, she gathered herself and sniffed. “Don’t you dare pay me for that latte, Mr. Mac.”
He shoved the bills across the counter and picked up his cup, voice pitched with humor. “Don’t you dare refuse to let me.”
She bit her lower lip to catch her smile. “Give Betty my best.”
“I always do.” He offered a slight salute, reminiscent of his former glory days, then turned and shuffled toward Jill, goodies in hand.
Then he paused in front of Gerard. Bri held her breath. He looked him up and down, inches from his face. Gerard didn’t move, just straightened to attention. His eyes flicked to Bri, then back to Mr. Mac, where he held the older man’s gaze.
Mr. Mac nodded briskly, then shot Bri a wink over his shoulder. “Definitely not what you’d think.”
Her cheeks warmed another degree hotter. Gerard gestured over his shoulder as the door shut behind Mr. Mac and Jill. “I’m a little confused. Did I pass inspection?”
“I’m pretty sure.” Bri wiped up a spill of steamed milk with a dish towel, emotions
