I Like You a Latte {Completed}

48 | Transferring the Letter

Beverly was awoken the next morning by the feeling of the bed shifting next to her. She blinked blearily, squinting against the sliver of sunlight that peeked through as she turned her head slightly. Griffin was still crowded against her back; his breaths were slow in sleep even as he muttered something under his breath and moved the hand he had settled on her hip up to splay across her stomach.

He mumbled some more, and Beverly cracked a sleepy grin at the noises. Of course Griffin of all people would talk in his sleep—how more adorable could he get?

Easing her way out of his hold and stepping onto the cool wood floor of his bedroom, Beverly chuckled lightly when Griffin flopped onto his back with a heavy sigh, face slack in the most peaceful expression she'd seen on him since her accident. Bending forward, she dropped a kiss on his forehead and brushed a strand of hair from his face, stroking a single finger across his brow before stepping away.

She didn't want to wake him, after all, not after learning how exhausted he truly was. Casting one final glance over her shoulder to ensure he was still asleep, Beverly ducked out of his room, tiptoeing across the hall and into her own temporary bedroom. After she'd changed her clothes and brushed her teeth, she turned to leave but stopped in her tracks.

Sitting on the bedside table, where it had resided since she'd finally pulled it from her backpack, was Francis's letter to the woman. Beverly had told herself not to give it to Cynthia until the older woman actually asked for it, but knowing the two had spoken the previous night . . . well, she would at least ask.

Snatching up the letter, Beverly continued from the room, gliding down the stairs and poking her head into the expansive kitchen. Cynthia was bent in front of the oven, one hand inside as she checked on some delicious smelling muffins.

"Good morning," Beverly broached cautiously, climbing onto one of the barstools but keeping her hands in her lap to hide the letter.

Cynthia shot the younger girl a smile over her shoulder as she pulled the muffin pan from the oven and set it down on the stovetop. "Good morning, Miss Bev." She sobered slightly, her eyes darting to the staircase. "Is everything alright, now?"

Beverly grinned. "No worries there, Cynthia; Griffin and I have cleared everything up, I think." And confessed our undying love for one another, but she doesn't voice that part. Cynthia seemed to be in a good mood, so Beverly continued: "What about you and Francis?"

"Ah," Cynthia nodded once, but her eyes didn't dim in anger as they once had at the mention of the man, so Beverly took it as a good sign. "Getting there. I realize this thought makes me a terrible person, but I feel a lot better now that Griffin punched him."

Beverly decided then and there that Griffin must've gotten his ability to hold a grudge from Cynthia. Really, the godmother and godson were both so kind, but both seemed to possess a protective and vengeful side; Beverly would have been scared of being on the wrong side of that passion (anger? She wasn't sure what to call it), if not for the fact that she was finally comfortable in her relationship with Griffin.

"I was wondering though . . ." Cynthia trailed off and Beverly perked up. "I was wondering if I could see the letter now."

Nodding so fervently she was almost surprised her head didn't roll off, Beverly whipped the letter up and held it out to Cynthia, hoping the eagerness on her face wasn't too obvious.

I want them to have a happy ending so badly . . .

Cynthia blinked in shock at the envelope that had suddenly appeared in front of her nose before she threw her head back and laughed brightly (inwardly, Beverly was relieved—at least she wasn't in trouble like she was last time). "Eager, are we?" Cynthia hummed, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. Beverly nodded sheepishly as Cynthia took the letter and held it up to light, as though she was inspecting it for some kind of tampering.