Chapter 3- Coffee, My Saving Grace

Dawn's POV Coffee filters. I needed coffee filters. Desperately. I'd managed to get both kids off to school. I survived the morning chaos, and was finally standing in my own kitchen, ready to enjoy a peaceful cup of coffee. Except I couldn't find the damn filters. And let me tell you something. If I didn't get some caffeine into my system soon, another one of my fictional characters. Was going to meet a particularly gruesome death. Possibly several. I wasn't feeling especially generous this morning. "Where the hell did I put them?" I muttered, opening the same cabinet for what had to be the fifth time. Nothing. I checked another box. Plates. Wonderful. Unless I could somehow turn a dinner plate into a coffee filter, those weren't going to help me. I let out a loud, frustrated groan. That's when someone knocked on my front door. "Oh, for crying out loud! What now?" Pink immediately scrambled to her feet, barking as she raced toward the entrance. "Pink! Knock it off!" She ignored me. Naturally. Apparently, listening was optional in this household. I marched toward the front door, fully prepared to inform whoever stood on the other side that they had approximately three seconds. To explain why they were interrupting my caffeine emergency. Then I opened it. And there stood my salvation. Chelsea. Five foot three of pure, blonde, spunky perfection. Her hair was styled beautifully. Her makeup was flawless. And she looked like she'd stepped straight out of some ridiculously expensive beauty advertisement. Seriously. Even when this woman threw her hair into a messy bun, she somehow managed to look fantastic. Meanwhile, I could spend forty-five minutes attempting the exact same hairstyle. Still end up looking like I'd been attacked by a family of squirrels. Sometimes, I hated the b***h for that reason alone. But right now? Right now, Chelsea was my absolute favorite person on the planet. Because in her hand was a large cup of coffee. I stared at it. Then at her. Then back at the coffee. Chelsea raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Well, good morning to you, too." I reached for the cup. She pulled it away. "Uh-uh. Manners." I narrowed my eyes. "Chelsea." "Dawn." "Give me the coffee." "What's the magic word?" I took a slow breath. "Please." She grinned. "See? Was that so hard?" "Do you want to live long enough to see tomorrow?" Laughing, she finally handed me the cup. I took a sip. Oh. Sweet. Merciful. Heaven. I closed my eyes. For a brief, beautiful moment, everything in the world was right again. My divorce was finalized. My children were safely at school. My dog had stopped barking. And I had coffee. Life was wonderful. Chelsea watched me with an amused expression. "That bad, huh?" I opened one eye. "I couldn't find my coffee filters." She gasped dramatically. "Oh, you poor thing." "Mock me all you want. You just saved the life of at least three fictional characters." "Only three?" "Depends on how quickly I finish this cup." Chelsea laughed as she stepped inside, bending down to greet Pink. Who immediately decided my best friend was the second-greatest human being alive. After me, obviously. Although, considering how easily that dog could be bribed with treats, my position was probably negotiable. Chelsea scratched behind Pink's ears before looking around my kitchen. "Wow. You actually made progress." I followed her gaze toward the mountain of boxes. "Don't sound so surprised." "Yesterday, I couldn't even see your countertops." "Yesterday, I was considering setting the boxes on fire and starting over." She grinned. "And today?" I took another glorious sip of coffee. "Today, I'm feeling slightly less homicidal." "Progress." "Exactly." Chelsea shook her head, laughing. And just like that, standing in my half-unpacked kitchen with my best friend and a cup of coffee. I felt another little piece of my new life settling into place. Chelsea shook her head, laughing. And just like that, standing in my half-unpacked kitchen with my best friend and a cup of coffee. I felt another little piece of my new life settling into place. "So, what brings you by?" I asked, taking another heavenly sip of coffee. Chelsea placed her hands on her hips, surveying the disaster that was currently my kitchen. "I brought willpower to help you unpack your house today." I froze with the cup halfway to my mouth. Slowly, I lowered it. "Come again?" "I'm helping you unpack." I stared at her. Then looked toward the ceiling. "Praise the good Lord above! Hallelujah! My prayers have been answered!" Chelsea burst out laughing. "Oh, stop it." "No, seriously. Do you have any idea how close I was to just living out of boxes for the next ten years?" "Considering you've been complaining about these boxes since you moved in? Yes." I walked over and threw my free arm around her shoulders. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?" "Not nearly enough." "You're beautiful. You're wonderful. You're the greatest friend a woman could ever ask for." "Keep going." "Your hair is always perfect, your makeup is flawless, and I only occasionally fantasize about shaving your head while you sleep." Chelsea jerked away, laughing. "You psycho!" "What? I'm complimenting you!" "Remind me never to fall asleep around you." "Then stop looking like a freaking supermodel at eight in the morning." "It's called taking care of yourself, Dawn." "It's called witchcraft, Chelsea. And one day, I'm going to find out where you keep your spell book." She rolled her eyes before reaching for the nearest box. "Are we going to unpack, or are you going to stand there worshipping your coffee all morning?" I looked down at my cup. "Can't I do both?" "Move your ass." "Bossy little thing, aren't you?" "Someone has to be." Unfortunately, she had a point. .............................. An hour later, we'd managed to empty several boxes, organize most of the kitchen cabinets. I discover that I'd somehow packed my vegetable peeler with the bathroom towels. Don't ask. I have no explanation. Chelsea held it up between two fingers. "Really?" I shrugged. "Maybe I was planning on exfoliating." She stared at me. I stared back. Then we both started laughing. "You're ridiculous," she said, dropping the peeler into the utensil drawer. "And yet you love me." "Against my better judgment." I smiled, reaching into another box. For a while, we worked in comfortable silence. Only to be interrupted occasionally by Chelsea asking where something belonged. Or Pink attempting to convince us she hadn't already received three treats. I was wrapping up a stack of mixing bowls when something from the night before popped into my head. "Oh! Chelsea!" She looked over from the pantry. "What?" I felt a smile spreading across my face. "You're never going to believe what Ana said last night." Chelsea immediately stopped what she was doing. "What did she say?" I set the bowl down. "Okay, so you know how she's been putting more words together lately?" "Of course." "Well, last night, I was putting her to bed. "We did our usual routine. Bath, pajamas, her favorite blanket, and I read her a story." Chelsea smiled. "Sounds like Ana." "Right? Anyway, I tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and told her I loved her." My throat tightened just remembering it. "And then she looked right at me." Chelsea's expression softened. "What happened?" I swallowed. "She said, 'I love you.'" Chelsea's mouth fell open. "Oh, Dawn!" I nodded, already feeling tears gathering in my eyes. "Three words, Chelsea. Three beautiful little words." "Oh, honey." "I've told that little girl I love her every single day of her life. "A hundred times a day, probably. And I know she loves me. I've never doubted that." My voice wavered. "But hearing her actually say it?" I pressed a hand against my chest. "God, Chelsea. I can't even explain what that felt like." Chelsea crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me. I laughed shakily as I hugged her back. "I cried like a complete idiot." "Of course you did!" "I mean, full-on ugly crying. The kind where your nose starts running and you can't even get a proper sentence out." Chelsea laughed softly. "That sounds about right." "And Ana just lay there looking at me like she couldn't figure out why Mommy had suddenly lost her damn mind." We both laughed. I wiped beneath my eyes. "I kissed her about twenty times. Told her how proud I was of her. And you know what she did?" "What?" "She pushed my face away because apparently Mommy was interrupting bedtime." Chelsea burst out laughing. "Oh, I love that little girl." "Right? Here I am having the greatest emotional moment of my life. Yet my daughter is basically telling me to get lost so she can go to sleep." I shook my head, smiling. "But honestly, Chelsea? Other than the days Evan and Ana were born. "I don't think I've ever experienced anything that wonderful." Chelsea squeezed my hand. "That's huge, Dawn." "It really is." "And she's making so much progress." I nodded. "She is. Every new word, every sentence, every little thing she accomplishes. I swear, I feel like I could burst with pride." "You should be proud. She's worked hard." "She really has." I looked toward the family pictures I'd unpacked earlier that morning. One showed Evan holding Ana when she was a baby. He'd been so proud to be a big brother. Another showed the two of them sitting together on the couch, Ana leaning against Evan while he watched television. My babies. My entire world. "Sometimes I look at them and wonder how I got so lucky," I admitted quietly. Chelsea gave me a knowing smile. "Because you're a good mom, Dawn." I snorted. "Tell that to Evan when I make him clean his room." "Oh, I'm sure he has plenty to say about that." "Usually something along the lines of how unfair his life is." Chelsea laughed. "Typical teenager." "Exactly. Yesterday, I asked him to take out the trash, and you would've thought I'd sentenced him to twenty years of hard labor." "Did he do it?" "Of course. After explaining in great detail why he thought it could wait until tomorrow." Chelsea shook her head. "That boy." "Yep. My little lawyer in training." I picked up another box and handed it to her. "Anyway, enough about my children before I start crying again. "We've got approximately seven thousand boxes left to unpack." Chelsea glanced around. "Seven thousand?" "Give or take a few hundred." "You're exaggerating." "Am I, though?" She laughed and grabbed the box cutter. "Come on, drama queen. Let's get back to work." I took another sip of my coffee, which had gone lukewarm. Didn't matter. For once, I wasn't thinking about my failed marriage, my stolen books, or everything that still needed to be done. I was thinking about a little redheaded girl tucked safely into bed, looking up at me with those beautiful blue eyes. And three words I'd waited six years to hear. I love you. Yeah. Life was pretty damn good.