Happy Merry Everything (Charlie Barber)

Secrets pt. 2

The line continued to ring. Charlie could see the apprehension spreading across your features. He reached across the table for your hand and did his best to put your mind at ease. "Let's not assume the worst, sweetheart," he said. "I know that's easy to do. I do it too. And I know you told me she's been ignoring your calls and I know how much that hurts your feelings, especially now since she reached out, but try to give her the benefit of the doubt. She could be busy now. Maybe she set her phone down and walked into the other room. We don't know."

You sighed as the call rolled to voicemail a second time and considered calling a third. He smiled reassuringly and nudged the cup of iced coffee in your direction. You glanced down at the condensation beginning to form on the exterior of your drink, contemplative, before you bobbed your head to concur. He was right. Panic would get you nowhere fast nor would it make her answer the phone and worry was as beneficial as your coffee's ice melting. Your eyes darted to the screen now turned black on the table. Your fingers gingerly plucked the device from its spot, entered the code, and typed up a message. The ball was in her court now. All that was left for you to do was wait.

You: Tag.

You pressed send as you returned the phone to the table, exhaling a deep breath. The rise and fall of your chest was like a silent prayer; each time the air flowed from your lungs it urged your stress to go with it. Nina would see your message. She would read it and call back when she was ready.

"You okay, over there?" Charlie inquired tenderly. "Yeah," you nodded again, doing your best to let things go and be present in the moment. "I think I just freaked out because she's not usually like this. It made me feel like something happened and she didn't want to tell me over text. Like it was something she needed to wait to say in person." Charlie took a sip of his own coffee. "I can see why you would think that." He was being choosy with his words, a fact proven by the look of discernment plastered on his face–likely from the wheels turning in his brain. "Is she typically the harbinger of bad news?"

He offered his hand as a means of comfort and you gladly took it. You shook your head, exhaling again as you placed yours atop his palm. Your chest was still cinched with anxiety and you hated it. "No. That's usually Mom...at least when it concerns anything family related. 'Someone dies? Mom calls. Someone's having surgery? Mom calls.' That sort of thing."

You picked up the straw from the table and inserted it into your drink, finally having a taste. The subtle notes of cinnamon and brown sugar in your oat milk latte were welcome flavors on your tongue. "You can always call her again after breakfast."

You swirled the liquid in your cup, hoping to incorporate the milk a little more. "You're right," you sighed. You could feel Charlie's eyes on you and peered up from your beverage causing the corner of his mouth to quirk into a half smile.

"Thank you," you said softly.

"Nothing to thank me for, my love"

A staff member brought your order to your table as you brought the straw to your lips again. Charlie thanked them since your mouth was occupied otherwise and thoughtfully began divvying out items on the table in front of you.

"I wasn't sure if this was one of those mornings where a pastry might be too sweet so I ordered a few things," he said, pointing to each one. "Yogurt, granola and fresh berries, and salmon toast." He also showed you the inside of the petite paper bags containing two croissants, one chocolate and one almond. "For later– unless you'd rather have one now, of course." You inspected both dishes expecting one to call to you, but it was no contest. You both knew that. Smirking, you pulled the bowl of granola closer making Charlie laugh. "I had a feeling," he chuckled. "That's fine by me," he said, grinning as you slid the plate in his direction. He picked up his cutlery and leaned in slightly; his voice was low enough only you could hear. "I wanted the salmon toast for myself anyway."