Dorie Graham - Espresso In The Morning

If only he could get her to slow down for a moment. A thrill of excitement ran through him. The espresso machine should do the trick. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? He’d surprise her with the machine on her birthday. Instead of running out every morning, they could have breakfast at home, quiet breakfasts that could set the tone for the day.

What a plan, and the coffee-shop guy—Lucas—was going to let him pay over time. He might have to snag a few more chores at his aunt’s and at home, but with his allowance, he should be able to do it. He settled back in the seat, content with his plan.

* * *

“I DID LIKE you said and I’ve been running nonstop all week.” Peg, one of Claire’s kickboxing students, puffed out a tired breath later that afternoon.

“Good, and you haven’t thought about the divorce?” Claire asked.

Her heart thrummed to the beat of the music in the background. She’d been looking forward to this lesson all day. She could only sit and work for so long before she craved physical activity. She’d be able to get a run in, too, later, while Grey stayed with his friend.

She’d dropped her son at school that morning, and then returned to the coffee shop. Her day had been filled with reviewing shipping bids and pulling together contracts. She rolled her shoulders, ready to get moving.

“Well, I haven’t given myself the chance.” The woman laughed, the sound like a nervous hiccup.

“Claire, want me to get them started with some warm-ups?” Bill, Claire’s sparring assistant, shoved his hands into protective pads.

She nodded, and then joined in. Nervous energy cranked through her. Too much caffeine and too little sleep was never a good combination, but was all she ran on most days.

Her body loosened with the repetitive movements. She’d trained long and hard for the past year, earning her black belt in record time. Now, she taught kickboxing two days a week on top of her day job, while Grey had soccer practice after school, or went to her sister’s.

After the warm-ups, Claire nodded to Peg. “Ready for some sparring?”

The group fell back slightly as Bill motioned Peg forward and the two circled each other. The rest paired off and followed suit, while Claire moved among them, correcting a stance here, giving a quick demonstration there.

Claire stopped beside Bill and Peg. Again, a nervous laugh escaped the woman. Peg threw a few punches, striking the big pads protecting Bill’s hands and forearms.

“That’s good, Peg, but you’re holding back,” Claire said. “Loosen up. Try some kicks. Remember to bring your knee up and twist from the hip.”

The next few punches struck with astonishing force. Bill stepped back as Peg advanced with a kick to his left arm. With a cry, she advanced again, backing him toward Claire. Eyes wide, Peg threw two more kicks. A left hook. A right and a side kick.

Bill stumbled, knocking into Claire.

Claire threw her hands forward to break her fall as the side mirror rushed toward her. Her shoulder slammed into the mirror and glass shattered over the mat.

“Oh, my goodness.” Peg gasped for breath. “I’m so sorry. I...I guess I lost control. Claire, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Claire pushed herself to her knees, staring in amazement at the shards of mirror. “Maybe we should take five.”

Peg nodded, her face crimson as she dashed for the ladies’ room. Claire bit her lip. Her fractured reflection peered back at her. It seemed Peg had too much pent-up anger. Maybe telling her to run from her problems hadn’t been the best advice, after all.

CHAPTER TWO

CLAIRE SIGHED AN hour and a half later as she hung up the phone and turned to Bill, who’d been hovering over her since her fall. He meant well, but his closeness set her already taut nerves over the edge.

“The installers will be here with the new mirror on Friday,” she said.

He nodded. “I taped over the broken part and cleaned up all the mess. You sure you’re okay?”

“Not a scratch.” She stood to move away from him, needing some distance.

She’d known him for years and thought having him around to help with the classes would be good therapy for her. Bill was safe. They’d played soccer together in middle school. He’d had her back on more than one occasion growing up.

During class, with the other students around, her fear had been under control. Now, with everyone else gone, her adrenaline spiked. “You can head out,” she said. “I’m fine. I have an email to send, and then I’m out of here. I’ve got to leave to get Grey in a little bit.”

Her cell phone chimed from the recesses of her purse. She groaned. She’d programmed that tune for her mother.

Bill nodded and backed toward the door as she answered the call. Claire waved, the knot in her stomach intensifying. “Mother?”

“Claire, did I catch you at a good time? You’re done with class, right?” her mother asked in her usual tone, her voice cold, polite.

“Yes, this is fine. What’s up?”

“Well, I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I never see you.”

Claire rubbed her eyes. Her mother had made it abundantly clear she didn’t want to see her, so what she was really saying was she never saw Grey. “You know how busy we are.”

“I don’t know why you have to cram so much into a day. Why don’t you bring that grandson of mine by for a visit some weekend? He can spend the night and you can do something fun for yourself.”

Subjecting Grey to an extended amount of time with her mother was one thing, but the thought of being home alone sent a chill through Claire. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Her mother grunted in disapproval. “You’re stifling him.”

She was doing anything but stifling him. She had him out and about as much as he could tolerate. The memory of Grey’s exhausted expression that morning flashed through Claire’s mind. She was the one interrupting his sleep at night.

Would he catch up on his rest at her mother’s? Surely, she could stand one night alone. The thought sent a shiver of unease through her, but she stifled it. She could do it for Grey. He put up with so much from her.

“Maybe next weekend. Let me talk to Grey. I’ll see if he’s up for it,” she said to her mother.

“That’s wonderful, dear, thank you. Maybe you could go out, have fun. It’s past time you started dating.”

“I’ve got to run. I’ll call you after I talk to Grey,” Claire said and disconnected without waiting for a response.

Without a doubt, she was going to regret this. She glanced around the quiet office and studio. Her unease intensified as the silence buzzed around her. She had never gotten along with her mother....

“Why would you say such a thing? Becca would never make such wild accusations. Of course, she doesn’t do anything to invite this kind of trouble.” Her mother’s words struck Claire as if they were blows. Why had she even come here? She should have known better.

“This kind of trouble?” Claire stared at her mother, incredulous. “You think I invited this?” She stepped away in an effort to compose herself. She would not break down again in front of her mother. “This isn’t a ‘wild accusation.’” She yanked up her sleeve to reveal the bruises on her arm. “It happened, whether you want to accept it or not. That man—that friend of yours—”

“Enough.” Her mother drew up straight. “There’s no need to involve the authorities when it will be your word against his.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Claire said, turning to leave. She had plenty to show the police. She’d have her doctor document her condition first, then they’d see whose word the authorities believed.

“Claire, whatever physical evidence you may have, there’s no way for you to prove you didn’t consent and things just got a little rougher than you’d anticipated. These things happen all the time.”