I fill a glass from the fountain, and by the time I return with her soda and the menus, she’s already got her backpack open and two textbooks spread out on the table. I carefully nudge one over so I can set the glass down. “Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“Keeping tabs on my kid?” Brenden asks as he strolls in, bell jingling. He wraps his fingers loosely around my forearm and urges me to step to the side so he can sit down across from his daughter. The brief touch makes my skin tingle, but I ignore that. “I swear I know when she’s supposed to go to school,” he says. “I’ve got this.”

He’s teasing me, and I glance back down at May’s table spread in case my cheeks turn pink. “I prefer to know when the schools are out so I can prepare to be invaded by a bunch of brats,” I explain.

“Hey!” May complains.

“Not you.”

“Today was the last day,” she tells me. “But I want to make sure I get my assignments done early so I can enjoy the week off.”

I shake my head because this girl is always doing schoolwork and studying. She’s way too mature for her age. I like to give Brenden shit that she’s more mature than him, which he never refutes.

“Coffee,” Brenden says, abruptly cutting off the conversation. The desperate tinge to his voice makes me roll my eyes, and I refrain from giving him a lecture on manners.

“How many of these have you had today?” I ask when I serve him a cup. It’s part of our routine, and he usually answers with something vague and absurd like, “More than one and less than ten.”

This time though, he heaves a weary sigh and says, “I’ve lost count, but believe me, I needed all of them. Do you mind if we have some time before we order?”

I try not to be disappointed at the brush off. He is here as a customer, after all, and not to see me. But he’s usually much chattier. He didn’t even ask about my dad, which he’s done every day since the stubborn idiot of a man fell off a ladder while doing his electrician work and fractured his hip.

Grabbing a rag, I begin wiping down the counter in an attempt to keep myself busy and avoid watching Brenden and May like a creeper. I can’t help taking a few quick peeks at their table, though.

Brenden looks as good as ever, with his fitted dark gray slacks and a peach button-up—one of his typical work outfits. He looks more tired than usual though. A piece of his sandy brown hair falls out of place as he ducks his head to talk to May, and he doesn’t bother swiping it back.