𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 | 𝘾𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙥 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 | Balancing motherhood and adulthood is difficult, but Kay embraces the new challenge with love and care. When Noah James barrels into Brian's life, that challenge shifts, and the happy couple...
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**Kay**
Without traffic, we made it back to the city in a reasonable time. It was enough that I calmed down, found distractions in the clouds, and knew, that eventually, everything would be okay.
My children were in good hands, away from the drama in my life. I honestly thought we were far from this; after Brian's past and dealing with Mario, I thought we'd closed major doors and cleared a clear path to our future. This wasn't Brian's fault; no one could've predicted this. It didn't mean that I was okay with it.
I don't know what Brian's doing, but I hope he's okay right now. I hope he's figured something out.
"Wait, wait, wait—" I stretched my hand out to touch Rianne's shoulder. She was about to turn in the direction of my condo, but I spotted the park Brian, and I used to take our nightly walks through. The memory made me think of something else; happy days filled with cupcakes.
"What happened?" Rianne looked at me with wide eyes.
"Go the other way," I said.
She frowned. "Why? I thought we would—"
"I want to see Mr. Paul."
Rianne's tongue passed over her bottom lip as she smiled and flicked the turn signal. There was no argument. Everyone knew what Mr. Paul meant to me, the special old man who became a father figure when I arrived in the city. His kindness spread to all of our friends. Not to mention, Kyle had my old apartment, and I was sure Rianne wouldn't mind the closeness either. Their relationship was stretched but remained like glue.
"Okay." Pressing the gas, she made a U-turn. "Mr. Paul, it is."
*
Just seeing the storefront of the apartment building I once called home put a smile on my face. The lottery sign flashed on the right window, the 'sale on sweets!' written in red Sharpie right beside it. Mr. Paul's handwriting was so neat, so precise. He even drew a small cupcake at the bottom with a tiny smile, that made me smile.
I taught him that.
Rianne flipped her keys beside me. "I need some Tylenol for this caffeine headache. I'm going to head upstairs for a second."
I looked at her as my hand settled on the door to Mr. Paul's shop. "Oh, I'm okay. Is Kyle home?"
"No," Rianne laughed and shook her keys. "But I can get in, so—"
"Right, right," I giggled and pushed open the door. "Go on ahead."
"Of course, but let me say hi to the sweet old man." Rianne squeezed past me, and I followed after her.
Mr. Paul's cozy shop always felt welcoming. Maybe it was the close-knit shelves, where if you browsed for too long you'd bump into someone's shoulders. Or maybe it was the front counter decorated with impulse-buy sweets. As I passed my hand over the chocolates, then faced the counter, I knew the joy of this shop was him. Mr. Paul. The kind old man who smiled at you as soon as he saw you from the window.
