I Like You a Latte {Completed}

49 | Settling the Drama

After kissing Francis for a solid, stunning minute, Cynthia pulled back, glared at the man, and snarled, "You absolute, complete, utter idiot! You are dumber than a box of rocks, you know that?!"

Francis, who Beverly suspected had suffered some minor brain damage from Cynthia's assault, nodded dumbly. "I . . . what?"

Cynthia snagged the collar of his shirt and pulled him down until their faces were inches apart. "I said: You are an idiot, Francis Knott! How in the hell could you give me such a thing?!"

Francis, for once, seemed just as confused as Beverly (and the several other staff who stood in the hall, bewildered). "I was just trying to give you . . ." he swallowed thickly, "closure."

"Oh, I know perfectly well what you were 'trying' to give me, thanks very much, Francis." Cynthia released his shirt and popped a hip out, setting her hand on it and looking like some kind of badass heroine whose Prince Charming had gotten stuck in a tree, leaving her to become entirely unimpressed and save the poor sap.

Beverly, although she wasn't fond of Cynthia's ability to hold grudges, admired the woman in that moment—it was clear that Cynthia knew what she wanted, and had every intention of getting it.

(It was a huge turnaround from Cynthia's earlier opinions on Francis, but Beverly decided not to delve into that particular thought until later.)

"But closure is not what I wanted," Cynthia continued, snapping Beverly from her thoughts. "Do you honestly believe I would still be upset about this if I had moved on from you?"

Francis looked torn between hopefulness and suspicion. "No?" he asked, the hopefulness winning out.

Cynthia's expression of irritation dropped for just a movement, revealing a tender smile that made her look years younger. "No," she agreed, her voice suddenly soft and vulnerable. "I wouldn't. I understand you were trying to give me closure, but that's not what I want . . . not anymore, anyway."

Francis shuffled even closer, until their chests were almost brushing. "And? What do you want?" Beverly could barely hear his voice, but she didn't miss the intimacy in it, a gentleness and vulnerability that Beverly had never hear from Francis before.

Cynthia's smile grew, until it was wide and nearly blinding. "We still have a lot to talk about," she warned him, "but you should know that I've only ever wanted you, even if it took me a while to realize that."

Beverly was almost positive she could see the moment Francis's brain short-circuited, leaving him with his mouth agape and his brows furrowed in complete disbelief.

"You're serious?" he asked, the words a whoosh of breathless air. "You're not kidding?"

Smile shifting again, this time into something soft and tinted with the slightest bit of remorse, Cynthia raised one hand and stroked the side of Francis's face; his head tilted into her touch, his eyelids shut tight, as though he was inside a dream and never wanted to wake up. "I'm serious," she murmured, her lips barely moving as she watched his every movement closely. "I'm not kidding."

Francis opened his eyes, stepping away and running a hand through his hair as he blew out a breathless, relieved laugh. "I'm not sure you realize how thrilled I am right now. This moment, right now, is the only thing I've ever hoped for, but I never thought it would happen."

"I've told you before, haven't I?" Cynthia was teasing now, and Beverly was able to get a glimpse at the woman Francis had first met in a grocery store so many years ago. Her green eyes were sparkling with humor, her smile spoke of adventure, and every movement was fluid and enchanting. "You think too much, Fran."