Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(77)

With an assessing look, Farren says slowly, “You’ve changed a lot, Essa.”

“I have,” I agree.

A little while later, I discover my parents have changed a little as well. When I resolutely declare my intentions for my future—living arrangements, change of school, and all—they are surprisingly accepting. The newly assertive me can be persuasive, I suppose. They don’t even cut me off financially.

Still, if I’m going to be an adult, it’s time to start earning some of my own money. I resolve to find a job for the summer. Haven is signed up for an acting workshop that meets every weekday morning, and Farren has frequent meetings with his father. I need something to do, too. There’s still no sign of Dawson, but I know it’s only a matter of time. A job will keep me occupied, and it will keep me busy when Farren has to leave. So, on one particularly bright and sunny summer afternoon, I apply at the coffee shop around the corner from the apartment.

“I’m not crazy about you working there,” Farren’s says, later in the day, when I tell him of my new employment.

“Why?” I inquire, baffled.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t have a specific reason.” Sighing, he then admits, “I guess I just want to keep you protected at all times.” Farren is not immune to worrying about me, same as I worry for him.

I wrap my arms around him. “I like when you’re protective,” I assure him. “But trust me, I’ll be fine.” When he huffs, I remind him, “The coffee shop is, like, two minutes from here.”

“I know.” He nestles me close to his strong body. “Just be careful, Essa. Don’t trust anyone.”

Three days into my new employment, Mr. Barnes asks Farren to accompany him on a business trip to a third-world country. His father wants him there as protection but also as a consultant. I’m beginning to get the impression Farren’s father fully intends to leave his empire to his remaining children at some point. I think that’s why he keeps trying to connect with Haven as well.

Before Farren leaves, it’s my turn to ask him to be careful. And then I add in a sad voice, “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’ll only be gone two weeks,” he replies in a conciliatory tone.

“Still…” I trail off.

He knows this will be hard because we’ve been together almost every day for more than two months solid. Enfolding me in his arms, he softly murmurs, “I’ll miss you, too, Essalin.”

And then he leaves.

With Farren gone, I decide to fully immerse myself in my coffee-shop job. I spend time getting to know the other employees. I ask them about their kids, their spouses, their lives. I get to know all the regular customers, too, and most of them are pretty cool.

One particular guy catches my eye. Not in a romantic way, of course. It’s just that my heart goes out to him. He’s around my age, a college student. At least, that’s what I assume, since he trundles in every morning with a passel of textbooks. The guy is kind of cute, in a nerdy, klutzy kind of way. He wears glasses and has a mop of reddish hair, but it works for him. He gets noticed by women in the shop, but he only talks to me. I guess that’s because I am infinitely patient with him. Like, when his books slip from his grasp, I help him adjust them before they fall. When he drops his money on the counter, I pick it up for him. And when he almost knocks over his usual order—iced coffee—I always catch it before it topples.

Our conversations are a series of him saying, “I’m so sorry…Oh, let me get that…Shit.”

My responses are “Don’t worry about it…I got it…You’re good.”

One morning, before walking away after paying, he squints at my name tag. “Essa,” he says. Looking up at me with soulful brown eyes hidden behind glasses, he adds, “I’m Justin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Justin,” I say, and then I shake his hand.

And so it goes.

On the day Farren is set to return from his trip, I wrap up my morning shift early. Klutzy, red-haired Justin is walking to the door just as I am. I notice he’s completely distracted, peering down at a paperback in one hand, wrapped up in reading. His iced coffee is in his other hand, way out in front of him, almost like he’s unintentionally clearing the way. Customers step left and right, avoiding him. But it’s too late for me. Justin wrecks right into me, and iced coffee spills down the front of my green work shirt.

Looking aghast, he says, “Oh, hell, I didn’t see you there.” He puts his paperback down on a table and starts reaching for napkins nearby. “I’m so sorry, Essa.”

I take the napkins from him and start dabbing. But they’re no match for the soaking I’ve received. When it’s clear the napkins are not helping, I say, “I better go clean up in the ladies’ room.”

“Wait,” Justin says, his voice urgent. “My car is around the corner. I have some auto-detailing towels in there. They’re very absorbent.”

I shrug. “Okay, sure.”

As we’re walking to his car, I attempt to make conversation. “So, you keep a car in New York City. That’s crazy.”

“I know, right.” He laughs. “It would be. But I don’t live in the city.”

“Oh, where do you live?” I ask as we turn into an alley.