Page 202 of Safe With You
She nodded toward my coffee. “You.”
I looked at the mug and then back at her. “What about me?”
“You order coffee like somebody’s grandfather.”
I laughed. “What does that even mean?”
“Black. No cream. No sugar. Just suffering.”
“It’s coffee.”
“It looks like motor oil.”
“It tastes like coffee.”
“It smells angry.”
I stared at her.
She took another sip of orange juice, completely serious.
“You had a lot to say about my coffee the first time we ate together too.”
“Because you keep ordering it wrong.”
“I didn’t know there was a right way.”
“There is.”
“And I’m guessing it’s whatever you drink.”
“Obviously.”
I shook my head. “What do you put in yours?”
“Enough stuff to make it taste good.”
“So not coffee.”
“It starts as coffee. That’s enough.”
“That explains why Naomi had to put a sign up about judging people’s orders.”
Her mouth fell open. “That sign was not about me.”
“Sounded applicable.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have sent you that picture.”
“But you did.”
“I make mistakes.”
I smiled as I reached for my coffee again. “Apparently.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but there was no real threat behind it.
I told her about the family portrait session I had later and Mila’s firm belief that three children automatically meant I was going to need backup.
