Page 14 of A Tall Order (Shade Grown Coffee Boys #1)

I wake up alone in bed. Which I knew was going to happen, but it still sucks not having Remi here to pull me out of bed or make breakfast together. I have a good morning text from him and a screenshot of me asleep on the video call last night. It is not an attractive photo.

By the time I get to work, I can tell the day isn't going to go well. The winds last night must have knocked something on the block and the power went out after I left. I don't know how long it was out, either. The freezers are still within the safe zone for temps, but we have to throw out almost everything in the deli fridge and half the milk in the coffee station fridge. I call in an emergency order to our supplier for just the basics to get us through the week until our usual shipment arrives on Friday.

It won't be here until nine at the earliest, leaving us with an hour after opening to hope we don't run out of things. I'm torn between helping Jason with the coffee line and making sure that Amir is good with getting everyone their pastries and breakfast sandwiches. I apologize at least a hundred times to different customers who are upset they're having to wait longer than normal.

When the order does arrive, I do my best to get everything put away as quickly as I can. Usually, we get our orders during a slower time in the day and I can pull Jason or Amir in to help me. But now, it's a rush to put the cold stuff away, jump on the espresso machine, and make sure that we are ready for the lunch rush. It's a long morning and by the time noon hits, I'm ready for the day to be over.

I take a moment to sit in the office after the lunch rush and check my emails and texts. Remi texted me back, letting me know that all but one couple is able to have a long weekend getaway. The email from the owner is less than ideal. He is upset about having to throw so much out and sent a list of things that need to be done by Friday. He is coming back in Thursday evening to check. This means more paperwork to justify throwing out almost two hundred dollars of supplies and probably late nights the rest of the week.

All three of us are tired by the time we close up. I help both of them as much as I can and get my own chores done before I lock up behind them and go back to the office. I'm giving myself an hour and then heading home. Just one more day before seeing Remi again. I should probably analyze why I'm telling time in Remington visits, but I don't care. The thought of cuddling next to him, playing, not having to make any hard decisions, is enticing.

My phone rings and I expect it to be Remi calling me again like he did last night, but it's my boss. I pick up the phone and press it to my ear .

"Hello?" I open my mouth to ask how he is, but he cuts me off.

"I got three complaints online today," he says. His words are angry and rushed. "Some were complaining that the tables were a mess, the wait line was almost ten minutes for a single coffee. I know we had some issues this morning, but what happened?"

"Exactly that," I say. I keep my voice calm, knowing that stooping to his angry tone isn't a smart choice if I want to keep my job. "We were down an employee today and—"

"You were down an employee yesterday, too, right? Was it the same employee?"

"Yes, sir, but he has a legit—"

"I'm paying him to be there and work," the owner cuts off. I don't know where this is all coming from. I've never had issues with the owner before. He and his wife are usually happy when they come in or when he calls on the phone. This side of him is way off and I want to ask if everything is okay but it isn't my place to do so.

"He said he'll be back in tomorrow. I'll talk to him about it." I already plan to talk to him, to make sure that everything is okay. Not to berate him or make him feel bad for feeling bad. I've had days since starting this job where I had to call out as well. Not many, but I've taken a couple days over the two years I've worked here.

"I'll be there Thursday." The line clicks dead before I can respond. I look over the list of things needing to be done and make my own list of what will take the longest or need more than one person to complete. Then, I try to plan what time during the day each task can be done. It's going to be a stretch and with the colder weather in full swing already, we're getting more traffic in the mornings especially.

"Here's to hoping tomorrow is better," I say to myself and knock my knuckles against the wooden desk. I gather my things and put on my coat and hat before heading outside.

My phone starts ringing once again while I'm walking to the car. Again, I'm disappointed that it isn't my Daddy. He did text me earlier to call him once I got home so he's probably waiting for that. I'll probably call him on my way home. This call, though, is coming from my mother. We don't talk a lot but I expected with the holidays around the corner, I'd be hearing from her sooner than later. I answer the call before it can go to voicemail.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey Austin," she answers simply. She is never one for calling her kids by nicknames or the usual 'sweety' or 'dear' like some of my friends' moms growing up. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I say. I jump into the car and turn the key. Once the car is on, I adjust the heat and relax when it starts to warm up. The walk from the shop to the car isn't long, maybe two minutes at most, but I wouldn't be surprised if we get an early snow this winter. My thoughts go to the trip Daddy is planning for us. Hopefully there's heat in the cabins. "How are you and Dad?"

"We're good, too." The conversation is always stilted like this until one of us gets to the reason for calling. "Are you coming to the Thanksgiving dinner?"

"Yeah," I say. I turn the heat up when the car fully warms up and prop my phone in the holder before backing out of the spot. My brain is so ready to stop thinking for a couple of hours. I have a microwavable dinner waiting for me, maybe a couple episodes of a show, hopefully another video chat with my Daddy. "What time are we meeting?"

"Bea, Chandler, and their little one have to go to Chandler's parents at four so we were thinking noon?"

Bea, my older sister, has a four-year-old daughter. She is adorable and I wish that we were a closer family sometimes so I could watch her grow up more consistently. We weren't really close before Paul's death, but after, I know I distanced myself more. They didn't understand why I couldn't move on. Until now.

I overheard my mom once say in another room that my grief wasn't normal. It'd been eight months after Paul's accident, a time when I was struggling the most with finding a new job, a place to live, and not having anywhere or anyone to regress with. Paul's family was understanding in the beginning, but since I wasn't on the deed to the house and we weren't married yet, they were the ones that decided to sell the home Paul and I lived in.

Charlotte, my only niece, doesn't know all of that. She doesn't judge me for not being around much when she was first born, doesn't care that sometimes I just sit quietly. The handful of times I've seen her over the last three years, I've become too overwhelmed with playing blocks or with stuffies that I had to stop. I know it isn't fair on her, but it was hard for me to play without wanting to slip in that space or just think of Paul.

"I'll have to double check with Remington, but that should be fine."

"Who's Remington?" My mom's voice perks up and I realize what I said. I close my eyes briefly, since I'm already driving and open them back up to watch the road. I explained who Remington was to her last time we spoke. Only a week ago. "Austin?"

"We're… dating. He's my boyfriend." It's the first time I've used the word and my stomach swoops happily at it. "I might see if he can come with me. If you're okay with it."

"Of course," she says quickly. "Oh, I'm happy for you Austin. It's been a while. I was just talking to your sister the other day—"

"I'm sorry, Mom. I have to go. I'm driving home." I don't want to get into this conversation once again. Each holiday for the past two years brought up the same questions and conversations.

Are you bringing someone with you?

Seeing anyone?

Still working at the coffee shop?

My answers have been the same and I see the light dim in their eyes when I say I'm not looking for anyone. The plus with my family is none of them care that I'm gay, but it doesn't stop them from asking and overstepping. And not in a cute, just want the best for you way.

By the time I'm pulling into the driveway, my mind is swirling with more things I have to deal with over the next week and a half. Work, family, asking Remi if he wants to meet them, going to Remi's family to meet them. I barely remember meeting his sister before— it was a brief interaction with her at a cookout— but I'm excited to see them. The way Remi speaks about his family is warm and makes me happy for him.

He invited me to his nephew's birthday party, but they had it planned for half an hour before I got off work so I missed it.

I get inside and hang my coat up before dutifully calling Remi. He answers on the first ring .

"Hey, baby. How was work?"

"Not good," I sigh. I recount the day while I grab my frozen meal and set it in the microwave. By the time I'm done telling him everything, down to the short conversation with my mom, I'm leaning with my back against the counter and watching the timer on the microwave.

"I'm sorry, Aussie." His voice is soothing and I let out a deep sigh, letting my eyes close and my head drop back. When the timer beeps I open my eyes back up and listen to Remi continue to talk. "Are you going to your parents on Thanksgiving?"

"Probably," I say. I grab a fork and mix up the food. It's a basic chicken and rice meal, with some veggies thrown in. The container it comes in is sectioned off, so my food isn't touching. "I know we talked about it a bit on Sunday, but I was going to see if you wanted to go with me. My mom said that they planned to eat around noon."

"Only if you'll go to breakfast with me and my family," Remi responds. "We like to do something around eight and then we hang out for a bit."

"Two big meals in one day?" I look from what I'm eating now and thinking about all the yummy breakfast that Remi has made for me recently. Having his whole family making breakfast foods? "I'm in."

"Great," Remi says and he sounds genuinely excited about it. "I'll let them know you're coming. They're excited to meet you."

That surprises me. "You've told them about me?"

"Aussie, I've told everyone about you." Remi says it like it should be common knowledge but it brings a lump to my throat. "Is that okay? "

"Yeah, of course it is." I forget about the food for a second and walk toward my bedroom to change into my pajamas. Without thinking, though, I end up in the playroom. The room calms me now, instead of making me think of Paul and how much I've missed over the last three years. "I called you my boyfriend today. To my Mom. I know it's such a simple thing, but it just came out naturally."

I open the closet and look through the options. I have so many outfits here, more than I thought. I have a suspicion that Remi has added a few things in. I don't feel like slipping into my Little space alone, but it doesn't mean I can't put something comfy on and maybe read a book in the oversized chair Remi bought. When he told me he bought a chair, I expected a rocking chair or something. Not this big, fluffy thing that we can both fit on and snuggle easily. I'm not complaining, but I know that it wasn't cheap.

"You can call me whatever you want, Aussie." Remi's voice is getting deeper, letting me know that he's close to sleep. I want to ask him to read me a book again, but I decide I can wait one more day. "I'll see you tomorrow when you get home, okay? Sweet dreams, baby."

"Goodnight, Daddy."

I hang up and change my clothes right there, kicking my adult outfit into the floor of the closet. The outfit is a t-shirt and shorts, dark blue with spaceships and stars on them. I love this outfit, even more so when I'm diapered because the extra padding can be easily seen under the thin fabric. Maybe tomorrow.

My food is cooled enough to eat quickly and I grab a bottle of water to take back to bed with me. I make a pitstop to the bathroom to brush my teeth and relieve my bladder before grabbing Koka and Kola and going back to the playroom. I pull the blanket over us and settle in with a book. It's nearly ten now and I make sure to set the alarm on my phone before snuggling in.

When I wake up the next morning to my alarm, I'm surprised. Not because I'm in the playroom or even because I'm hard. Those two things make sense.

I'm confused because my thumb is firmly in my mouth and I was sucking on it. I give myself plenty of time to wake up, but keep my thumb in my mouth. I've sucked on my fingers before, mostly when I'm shy. Like when Remi took me to the club or usually when I'm overwhelmed too, but sucking my thumb? I haven't done that in a good while. It's usually my body and mind's way of telling me that I want to regress more than I typically do.

I shake those thoughts, unsure if Remi is cool with that. We've talked about it before, but I like the dynamic we have. He cooks for me, plays, colors, even does bath time. He's okay with the diapers, but I don't know if he would be okay with me regressing to nearly nonverbal and needing a pacifier and bottle.

My morning routine is the same as it's been for a while. I shower, dress, remember to grab my clothes from the playroom and toss them into my dirty clothes hamper. Remi texts me a good morning right at six-thirty, his usual wake up time.

As I'm walking out the door, my phone starts to ring. I pray that it isn't Tyler calling out again but instead it's my sister. I can't remember the last time she's called me this early in the day and I'm immediately on edge. "Bea? Is something wrong? "

"Of course something's wrong," she says. I rush to the car, planning on breaking all the laws to get to her or my parents. "Mom told me you have a boyfriend?"

I stop in my tracks, hand on the door handle. My heart is still racing, but the adrenaline is leaving my body quickly. "I thought someone was hurt."

"Well, I am." I roll my eyes at her dramatics. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating someone?"

"It's not like we talk all the time," I say as I get in the car and turn the key.

"Seriously, Austin. Why didn't you say anything?"

Because while I've been living my most lonely life and not socializing, you and your husband are doing well for yourselves. Because every time I come to a family function, I'm asked over and over when I'm going to "put myself out there" or "stop spending all my time alone". I don't say anything like that so I sigh instead.

"It's new," I say instead. "We're still learning about each other, but he's coming to Mom's next week so you'll meet him there."

I can't remember if any of my family has met Remi and if they had, if they would remember him.

"I'm happy for you," Bea says. I open my mouth to say something but she beats me to it. "We've been wondering if you were going to date again after what happened."

After what happened?

After what—

"I have to go," I say. "I'm going to be late to work."

I hang up the phone and focus on driving before I start crying.