Hades holds open the front door. I step outside, wincing at the sunlight. Already the entire world is sticky with brightness and it’s only a bit past eight in the morning. The heat hasn’t quite kicked in yet, but I have no doubt that it will as the morning progresses.
Hades reaches in his pocket and offers me a white leather pouch. I take it, squinting, only to find a pair of sunglasses.
“Ah,” I murmur. I put them on, looking at him. “Thanks.”
He gives me the faintest smirk as he slides on his own sunglasses. “Come on.”
He leads me out through the gates. We head down the hill. I am alert, watching for signs of a crowd. But he was right; it’s too early for most people, it seems.
We walk back down toward the sea. Hades takes us on a slightly different path than we took previously. Still the beautiful light blue of the sea stands out against the multitude of white and off white sandstone buildings and their distinctive red roofs. From a distance, the businesses and houses look like rows of imperfect white teeth against the darker paving stones of winding streets.
I take it all in silently, chewing on my bottom lip and darting anxious stares at the smallest noise. When Hades touches my elbow to steer me into a shop, I jump at the graze of his skin.
“Easy, lass,” he says. He slides me a frank look as he points to the little coffee shop. “Maybe ye should get decaf.”
I glare at him. But I don’t shake off his touch. Instead, I let him anchor me as he urges me into the shop.
The unmistakable scent of roasting coffee beans hits my nose the second we enter. It’s a small, cramped space, room enough for a barista working a little cash register, a stack of paper cups, and four air pots of coffee. The rest of the space is dominated by a huge cylindrical copper coffee roaster, easily ten feet long and half as many high.
There are also two tables crammed into the shop. One is empty but the other has a young family sitting at it, dressed for a casual day at the beach. A young fair haired man, his dark-haired young wife, and a little boy with dark hair and glowing red cheeks remind me of nothing so much as Pinocchio for some reason. The man scowls at the boy and pushes a piece of breakfast pastry across the table at him.
As Hades steps up to the cash register, speaking to the barista in very broken Spanish, my gaze catches on the family again. The father says something sharp to the boy in a foreign language that doesn’t sound Spanish.
The boy is more interested in his action figure, a little green piece of plastic that he moves across their table. The mother says something quietly, reaching over to push the hair off the little boy’s furrowed brow.
The boy looks over in our direction for a moment and I smile at him. He studies me with a very intent look for a few seconds and then returns to playing.
I have the exact reaction I’ve had for years upon seeing this content, cozy little family. A distinct pang of longing.
Someday, I hope to have that idyllic family.
Hades shoots me a look as the barista fills two cups of coffee for us. I clear my throat and jerk my gaze away.
“So, this man we are supposed to meet. What’s his story?” I ask.
Hades raises an eyebrow. He picks up the two cups of coffee and carries them over to the empty table. I follow him, casting a dubious glance at the young family.
But Hades just sits down so I do too. He passes me a steaming cup of coffee, the taste of which is exactly as rich and nutty as this entire tiny room smells.
“I dinnae really know anything about him, other than that I have worked with him before,” Hades rumbles.
I nod, sipping my coffee. The warmth of it combined with the sunshine outside feels right in some way I can’t put my finger on.
“The coffee is good.”
He angles a vague smirk at me. “The best cup I’ve had in the city. It’s too bad that no one seems to know about it.”
I’m facing away from the family now, but I am still aware of them. A whispered argument breaks out between the man and woman, though I can’t understand what it is about.
“At least there isn’t a line to get a cup of coffee,” I say, trying to keep the conversation going. I’m distracted, though. Hades purses his lips and shifts his gaze behind me, his eyes narrowing.
There is a loud bang, followed by the boy’s soft whimper. I turn around and look at the family just as the man stands straight up, a menacing scowl fixed on the little boy.
His mother intercedes, putting a hand on the man and whispering plaintively. I lick my lips nervously and glance at Hades.
His coffee sits on the table, forgotten. He rises slowly from his seat, his gaze riveted on the man, his fists bunching.
The man yells something at the little boy, who bursts into tears. When he makes a move towards his son, his wife lurches from her seat.
