Clay lifts his face first to answer Scott, only to catch a glimpse of us in his peripheral vision. As he whips his head our way, the color drains from his cheeks. Scott notices his reaction and turns around to discover Grey and me standing at the door, catching flies with our open mouths.
Wiping a hand down his face, Scott turns and goes into the men’s restroom, the door slamming shut behind him.
Turning to Grey, I pat him on the arm. “Let me walk you out.”
We’re both quiet as we walk to his truck, a million thoughts without a doubt swirling in both our minds. He steps off the curb to walk around to the driver’s side, but stops and pivots before he goes any further. “I know it may not seem like it, but I’ve known the family for a long time, Nova…” He weighs his words carefully. “And you’re exactly what they need right now.”
“Are you sure about that?” I quip with a half-hearted laugh, motioning to the scene we just left.
He nods solemnly. “Scott’s a good man, but he was with Emma for a long time. Let him know you’re interested. I don’t think he’s not gonna dick around this time after that display.” His chuckle breaks some of the tension having over us. With a tilt of his head, he gives me a smirk. “He and the kids are lucky to have you, and I think he realizes now how much you mean to everyone.”
“I feel like the lucky one.” Thinking back to the conversation we had in the truck, I add, “And don’t give up on her, Grey. She’s probably just overthinking things. Let her know you’re in it for the long haul.”
He takes in my words and nods. “You know, you’re super, Nova.” Grey’s easy smile settles into place, but the twinkle in his eyes says far more.
“What?” I ask, curious to know, as he stands there looking like those wheels are turning overtime in his mind.
“Nothing. Just—” He weighs his options silently. “Never mind. I’ll catch you later, Nova. If not, you might want to ask Clay where he hid the body.” His deep chuckle fills the air as we exchange a friendly hug before he hops in the truck. “I’ll text you about the items we discussed, pal.”
“Thanks for dinner and dessert, buddy,” I return with a wink.
After he pulls away, I make my way into the shop again, mixed emotions boiling beneath the surface. Eleven pairs of peepers land on me—some tear-filled, some squinted in anguish, but most opened as wide as a church door. The only set I don’t see belongs to the man I need to have a chat with right now.
Vera Kay takes the kids to their usual tables to start gathering up their things, nodding towards the kitchen where I assume Scott is.
When I get to the door, he’s standing in front of one of the countertops, big and little shards of robin’s egg blue ceramic scatter before him. Oh no. I had yet to hear the story of why it was so important to the family, but I’ve got a feeling it might have something to do with Emma. “Scott?” He startles at the sound of my voice before reaching over to grab one of the smaller trash cans. “What can I do to help?”
For a long moment, he stares at me, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. When nothing comes out, he shakes his head and turns towards the broken pieces to discard them. “It’s just a bowl,” he says quietly, but the crestfallen look on his face tells me it’s so much more than just a bowl. “Sometimes, things just can’t be fixed, Nova.”
10
Nova
“What are you doing?” Henry’s voice catches me off guard, his eyes trying to figure out what I’m doing.
After the big blowup, Vera Kay told Scott to get the kids home and we’d finish closing up. He didn’t put up a fight, which meant the boys’ behavior and comments had embarrassed him beyond words. Thankfully, no customers were there to witness the scene, but something told me he’d still be mortified either way.
While I was gathering my things to leave, an idea occurred to me about the broken bowl, so I fished out and cleaned up the pieces. Vera Kay helped me glue it back together so I could sprinkle a little magic on it. Coupled with Grey’s delivery this morning and the special request I made from Harper the other day, I can only hope it’ll bring some joy back into the shop—and give a little to them as well. “I know it means a lot to you all, so it’s going to get a bit of a makeover.”
He watches for several minutes as I take my time, making sure the paint is the right consistency. “It belonged to Mom’s grandma. Mom loved it,” his watery voice offers.
That explains a lot. “Well then, we have to make sure it gets put back where it belongs.”
“Why are you painting the cracks gold?”
“It’s called kintsugi,” I explain, not taking my eyes from my work. “In Japan, when something valuable breaks, many people choose not to throw it away.”
“They don’t?”
I glance down at him, noticing his interest in my handiwork. “Nope. They take the broken pieces and make it new again.”
“But why do that to it?” his little finger points to my paintbrush.
“That’s part of the kintsugi process. You bind the pieces back together again, then you paint the cracks and chips with gold, like this. The cracks become a part of the item’s history. Instead of trying to hide it, they choose to highlight them.”
“Even though they’re like scars?” His little hand unconsciously touches the one above his lip—a source of insecurity for him, even though it makes him all the more endearing.
“Don’t you know, Henry? The scars are the best part,” I offer, smiling.
His hand drops as his head lowers with it. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“Not at all. Scars add to the beauty of things,” I add, never taking my eyes from the task at hand. “Even people. It makes them unique from everything around them.”
“Really?” His hair brushes my arm as he gets closer to watch the lines disappear under its new gold facade.
“Mmhmm. It means whatever tried to break it failed.”
“Not everyone likes broken things, though.” Uncertainty laces throughout his words.
Bending down to get at his level, I let him know he has my full attention and that I need his. “You’re right. Not everyone can see the beauty in things that are different. But those who can?”—my finger softly brushes the outside rim of his scar—“Those are the kind of friends you want to keep forever.”
He stands still, allowing me to examine it up close. “My friend Kat says she likes my scar,” he finally says.
“It’s one of the many things that makes you amazing, honey.” I gaze into his bright blue eyes. “She’s one smart cookie if already she’s that. You need to hang onto her.”
Warmth bleeds through his hand as he stills the stroking of my finger, holding it in place. “Does that mean I get to keep you around forever, Nova?”
Joy overflows from my heart onto my face, causing a tear to well up. I wrap him in my arms and bask in the acceptance this moment has given to us both. “Only if I can keep you forever, too.”