I Like You a Latte {Completed}

43 | Turning the Tables

"Are you sure you're alright?" Cynthia asked, passing Beverly a mug of hot tea and settling next to the younger girl on the large sectional that took up half of the lavish living room.

Beverly shook her head with a grateful smile. "I'm fine, I promise. Thanks for this," she nodded down at the drink in her hands.

Cynthia waved her off, tucking her legs under her and turning her attention to the large television, which was playing some home improvement show. "I never told you how sorry I am for the way I reacted to getting that letter." Her voice was filled with remorse, but her eyes were glued to the TV.

Blowing out a sigh, Beverly clutched the mug tighter. "I'm not going to lie," she started slowly, her eyes looking at the steaming liquid, "it hurt me a lot, but I do understand."

Sucking in a shaky breath, Cynthia shifted, and Beverly turned to find the older woman staring at her with so much sorrow in her eyes Beverly could feel it as though it was her own. "It's not just that," Cynthia confessed. "I'm the reason Griffin stopped speaking to you. It was irrational and so selfish of me, but I was paranoid; I thought you were acting as some kind of spy for Francis and—"

"It's okay," Beverly interrupted. It was hard enough seeing Cynthia act so stilted; Beverly wasn't sure what she'd do if the woman started crying. "I heard you and Griffin speaking at the hospital." She smiled apologetically. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't exactly help it."

Cynthia managed a tight chuckle. "It's fine. You shouldn't feel bad, Beverly; I'm the one trying to apologize, after all. I know now the thought was ridiculous—you would never betray my trust like that, and I'm truly sorry for thinking so little of you."

Shooting the woman a genuine smile, Beverly replied, "I forgive you, Cynthia. Francis told me what happened between you, and I'm sorry for shoving my nose where it didn't belong. I realize now that he treated you terribly; I don't blame you for getting upset, and I had no business getting involved--especially since I didn't fully understand the situation."

Cynthia scoffed, letting her head flop back against the couch cushions and staring at the ceiling bitterly. "It was a long time ago, I'm just a little too good at holding grudges. I haven't spoken to him much, though we did run into each other at the hospital and . . ." she paused, picking her head up to scrutinize Beverly. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to answer honestly."

Beverly shifted in her seat uncomfortably, hoping she wasn't about to get into more trouble. "Okay . . .?"

"Francis told me you spent Christmas with him, and that he told you about what happened between us. Did he . . ." she cleared her throat before trying again, "Did he say anything else? About me, I mean? Maybe something—"

"To indicate that he's still stupidly in love with you?" Beverly cut in with a cheesy grin, recognizing what the older woman was fishing around for. "Because if so, then yes." Her smile softened. "I know he hurt you, and I know that's hard to recover from, but I think you should at least talk to him. He has a lot he wants to say, and—at the very least—it would offer you some closure."

Cynthia nodded slowly. "I need closure," she agreed. They lapsed into silence for several moments, before Cynthia added, "That letter . . . I looked for it after you left that day, and I couldn't find it. Probably for the best," she muttered, "since I was planning on burning it. Do you have it?"

Beverly had to stop herself from grinning like a fool. She realized that Francis had been less than kind to Cynthia, but the man now—the man Beverly fondly referred to as her honorary uncle—had changed considerably. Cynthia wasn't making any declarations of love, but . . . well, it was a start. "Yes," she told Cynthia eagerly, "It's in my backpack, upstairs. Do you want me to get it?"