Page 31 of Choosing Us

Well, mostly sound.

I encouraged her to speak to a professional about her experience but of course want to be there for my friend as well. I don’t want to be her therapist, it would shift the power balance in our relationship, but I am always here if she needs me. We had a few phone calls, multiple texting conversations both one-on-one and with the book club, but today is the first time our schedules allow us to meet face to face. She now has a level of discomfort around large groups of people, but she insisted we could meet at Java Jive this morning, and I was more than happy to drive over from Nashville to see her.

Downtown Forrest Falls feels like I’m on the set of one of those towns where they shoot the popular Christmas movies. I love walking around and soaking it in, so I intentionally park my Jeep a few blocks down from Java Jive. As I walk through the coffee shop’s front door, the rich aromatic scent of freshly brewed espresso lingers in the air. Java Jive has a charm that can't be faked, and it's as deep as the worn grooves and scuffs on the original white oak plank flooring that I've noticed many businesses on Main Street also have. There are notes of vanilla and cinnamon in the air as well, a telltale sign of a fresh batch of their infamous cinnamon rolls making their way to the display case.

The front counter is a large square shape, with espresso machines and other equipment in the middle. The front side includes the display case, filled with tempting treats baked both here and at Sprinkles across the street. The other three sides offer a counter deep enough for customers to spread out and stay awhile. Every time I see those robin egg blue bar stools, I tell myself the next time I come to town, I'm going to sit at the counter and enjoy a cup of coffee like a real local.

But not today.

Taking into consideration Savannah’s unease with crowds and her preference for a visible exit, I chose a table toward the rear of the shop that’s right by the back door a few minutes before she arrived.

"Here you go, ladies," the barista announces our drinks' arrival with a kind smile.

"Thanks, Cami. Harlow, have you met Cami?” Savannah looks to me as I shake my head. “She's the manager here at Java Jive, and don't tell the other baristas, but she makes the best iced vanilla latte I've ever had." Savannah offers a soft smile to Cami, who looks to be in her early twenties.

Except her bright green eyes.

Cami's eyes carry the kind of wisdom that one only earns after going through the storms of life. Savannah mentioned Cami being extra kind to her after some mean women were talking poorly about Savannah behind her back in the middle of Java Jive.

I liked the girl the moment I heard the story.

"I haven't had the pleasure. Hi, Cami, I'm Harlow Lane." I extend my hand and she reaches out to shake it.

Her gorgeous wavy dark auburn hair with deep purple steaks is pulled back into a high ponytail.

"Hi, Harlow, it's nice to meet you. And Savannah, it sure is nice to see you." Cami reaches up and softly squeezes Savannah's shoulder, a clear indication that she's heard about Savannah's ordeal, but in a small town, I bet most people know about the kidnapping. "I need to get back up front but enjoy your coffee, ladies. And really, it's so nice to see you again, Savannah."

Savannah nods and we watch Cami hustle away to take care of the influx of customers that just walked in.

"She seems very sweet." I can't help but notice how Cami's eyes glistened when she spoke to her.

"Yeah, now that she's not afraid of me." Savannah laughs a little before taking a drink of her iced vanilla latte. She waves a hand at my confused expression. "It's nothing, a story for another day. Anyway, thanks again for coming all this way just to meet with me, Harlow,” Savannah says as she plays with the straw wrapper a little before reaching up to tuck a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear, giving me a small smile. “And I am still seeing that therapist you told Liam about.”

I didn’t want to push her, but when Liam called the morning after she was safely home and asked for a recommendation, I knew Aisha’s colleague would be a great fit. She’s a trauma-focused therapist that has extensive training and experience in specifically working with victims of kidnapping, and I was more than happy to facilitate the connection.

“I hope that’s going well for you and you’re finding it helpful as you heal,” I tell her as I reach over and gently squeeze her hand.

“We’re still doing two sessions a week, and I know that will decrease as I heal, but honestly, it’s amazing how well she’s able to understand what I went through without making it feel like I was weak because of it.”

“You are not weak, Savannah! Quite the opposite, in fact. You went through a traumatic and horrible experience; it’s going to take some time for things to feel … steady again. You just need to be gentle with yourself as you heal, you’re doing all the right steps, and have fantastic support as you do the work.” She nods as she blinks away tears. We talk about how her girls are healing in their own ways, and in a shocking turn of events, she informs me things are going better with her ex-husband as a result of the horrible experience.

“What is something you’re looking forward to with the upcoming holiday season?” Savannah asks as I take a drink of my vanilla almond latte. Letting her steer the topics we discuss, I take the hint and roll with it.

“Well, the holidays aren’t typically my favorite time of year.” Savannah gasps as I hold up a hand to placate her. “I’m not a grinch, I promise! It just isn’t the storybook traditional experience in my family that other people have with their families.” I shrug because what else can I do? I love Christmas in theory. I love the meaning and the joy of the season. I decorate my apartment with traditional décor—that I refuse to take a photo of because they are just for me—and I devour holiday novellas and movies when work allows. But on the actual holidays? They are typically less than ideal because they involve my family.

“But I did bring something for your girls in case I don’t make it to the next book club meeting.” I reach down and pull three boxes from my bag that I had tucked under the table. “It shouldn’t be a surprise, but I got them each a book I thought they would enjoy.” I shrug as she takes the boxes and her face lights up.

“You are so kind, Harlow. Thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful of you. I’m sure they will love it, especially Olivia.” She leans over the table to give me a hug as the bell over Java Jive’s front door chimes, drawing my attention.

And I’m so glad it did.

Running his hand through his hair as he walks toward us, Ryan is a man on a mission. I don’t know what the mission is, but I hope it has something to do with me because his dimple just popped in his right cheek, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the man if I tried. His dark charcoal dress pants fit him perfectly—a look only achieved by a custom tailor. The black peacoat he has on today is layered over a khaki sweater and a collared checkered dress shirt that matches his blue eyes. The man could have just stepped off a magazine cover with how polished and handsome he looks.

I think my ovaries just jumped.

“Hey there, ladies,” he greets us once he gets close enough to our table.

“Oh, hello, Ryan. What a surprise to see you here!” Savannah says a little too animated as her eyes dance with glee.