Trying to live

Chapter 5 (Edited)

Summer Before Junior Year

Dear Diary,

I miss coffee. Not just any coffee, but Royals coffee. Sure, I get coffee here, but it's not the same. Royals is more than just a café—it's an experience. Let me paint you a picture: an exquisite bistro catering to those who can afford the best of the best—the most expensive, most delicious coffee on earth. Nothing else compares. Not even Starbucks. Scratch that—especially not Starbucks.

I've never fallen into the whole "Starbucks every morning" lifestyle, and honestly, I'm proud of it. I've never even stepped foot inside one, and I plan to keep it that way. Royals has been my place since freshman year. It's not just about the overpriced caffeine fix; it's where I spend hours with my clique, gossiping, cramming for tests, pretending we have our lives together. But more than that, it's about the owner—Rhonda Stuart. She's one of my grandma's best friends, and over the years, she's become important to me too.

Beginning of Junior Year

Dear Diary,

I got a job! And I feel like I'm the only one excited about it.

Mom just gave me one of her looks—half disapproval, half indifference—and told me I could do whatever I wanted, though she doubted it would get me anywhere. I brushed off the comment, but it lingered in my mind. Scott and Henry (yes, my boyfriend) were shocked. I could tell they hated the idea. Especially Henry.

It's not that Henry doesn't understand people have to work. It's that he doesn't understand me anymore. He works too, sure—but his "work" consists of charity events and gala fundraisers, the kind of thing that keeps his family's reputation spotless. Me, working at a bistro—even a bistro that screams royalty—doesn't fit into the world he sees for me. But you know what? It doesn't matter.

Because I am happy. Rhonda gave me a chance, and I love being here.

*****************

My grandma, Tessa Vermont, is a force of nature. Everyone adores her. She's the kind of woman who walks into a room and lights it up effortlessly. Like sunshine breaking through a storm. Even though she's old (and she'd smack me for saying that), she doesn't look it. She's got this youthful energy, an athletic build, and hair dyed the perfect shade to keep up her status as the style icon of grandmas everywhere.

Today, she was perched on a bar stool at Royals, chatting with Rhonda as if she owned the place.

I knew I had to call her first, or she'd call me—and that always led to some kind of public argument, possibly involving colorful language. I sighed and walked over.

"Grams!" I called, wrapping my arms around her in a hug.

She grinned. "There you are, Em! I was going to call you, but I couldn't find you in my contacts."

I glanced at her phone and barely held back a laugh. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't find myself either if my name was saved as 'mE' instead of 'Em.'"

She squinted at her screen, baffled. "But the young man at the counter didn't mention that."

I turned to see Dean smirking from behind the counter, hazel-brown eyes twinkling with amusement. "Grams, he didn't say anything because he's secretly plotting my murder. And to do that, he has to act like a decent human being first."

"Em, did you eat something?" Rhonda interjected before Grams could question my sanity.

I hadn't. But I wasn't about to admit that.

Before I could dodge the question, my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl. Rhonda heard it loud and clear.

"Oh good. Do you want something to eat?"

I hesitated. "I—uh—didn't eat much at school. But don't worry, I'll eat on my break."

"Don't be silly!" she scoffed. "Your grandma would murder me if I let you go hungry. And besides, you're like the grandchild I never had."

Her words warmed something inside me. I adored Rhonda. She didn't have to hire me, even with her friendship with Grams. Especially since I was, admittedly, a pain in the ass last year. But at some point, I realized she wasn't the villain I'd made her out to be in my head. No, she was one of the best things that had ever happened to me.

Even her yelling at Dean was something I secretly enjoyed. "Dean, get something from Lorenzo for Em."

Dean, who had been cleaning the counter, shot me an annoyed look. "Why do I have to get her food? She's perfectly capable of walking."

I grinned. "Because no one likes you?"

Grams smacked my arm lightly. Rhonda gasped in fake shock. "That's not true! Dean, you're our angel. You know, if I die, you inherit Royals and all my money, right? It's in my will."

I gasped dramatically. "Rhonda, you shouldn't have said that! Now Dean's going to start plotting your murder too. He won't do it himself, of course—too messy. He'll hire a professional, make it look like an accident. But someone might take him out first, since everyone heard what you just said."

Dean sighed. "Really? That's your take on this?"

I nodded solemnly. "Look at Fat Joe over there." I gestured toward a gray-haired man with a belly that had seen too many slices of pie. "He looks like he's in it for the money."

Dean fought back a smile. "No, he looks like he wants another piece of pie. And he already has money. He doesn't need to kill anyone."

"You can never be sure," I whispered ominously.

"Oh, stop it, you two," Grams scolded. "Dean, sweetheart, could you get her something to eat?"

Dean flashed her a grin. "Sure, Grams."

"She's not your Grams," I shot back instantly.

"Doesn't matter. I can call her whatever I want."

"No, you can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not likable."

Rhonda smacked my arm. "Dean, what did I say about arguing with Em?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "That you can't win because after she runs out of actual arguments, she just starts spewing nonsense until people give up."

Okay, maybe that was true.

Dean came back with lasagna. Lorenzo always made me something special. I took a bite and sighed in appreciation—then noticed Grams watching me closely.

"How are you?" she asked softly.

I hesitated. "I'm... fine."

She didn't believe me. "I heard about your mother's accident."

The lasagna in my mouth turned to ash. "Oh. Right. That's why you're here?"

She shook her head. "That's not the only reason. Em, I want you to start letting people in. You've closed yourself off."

Her words cut deep. I wanted to argue, but she was right. I wasn't ready to admit that, though. So, I lied.

"Yeah. I'll try."

She hugged me tight. "I love you, Em."

"I love you too, Grams." And I meant it.

She was the only one who had stayed. The only one who hadn't blamed me. The only one who still believed in me.