"Dad, she can't just pop up whenever she wants!" I told dad angrily over the phone. My shift was almost over, and the café was kind of slow.

I gave him all the details of this morning, and he listened intently, throwing in his few cents here and there.

"Mia," Dad's voice was calm and even. The complete opposite of mine that was tangled up with distress and confusion. "In her defense, you haven't been responding to her texts. She was worried and figured it would be best to talk to you in person. She wants to tell you her full story before you decide on anything."

I huffed out a breath and furiously began to clean the already immaculate kitchen counters with a paper towel while everyone else worked around me. I needed to do something to get out my pent-up frustration. "I don't believe I owe it to her to sit down and listen to what she has to say," I said bitterly, trying my best to keep my voice low.

How could someone who spent years without making time for you suddenly ask for you to make time for them?

I didn't expect dad to agree with me. "You're right," he said. My hands froze on the counter. Did I hear him correctly?

As if he could sense my disbelief from all those miles away, he repeated himself. "You have every right to feel that way. But you also have the right to the truth, so you should take it. Then see how you feel afterward."

Why did he have to play Mr. Logic all the time?

"I'll consider it," I replied noncommittedly.

I checked the clock above the kitchen door. Grey should be here in 30 minutes. "Anyways, I have other things to focus on right now," I said, thinking about the deal I made with Grey.

"What do you mean?" Dad sounded suspicious, which was why he had asked cautiously.

I shrugged, "Nothing." It was probably best not to share this over the phone.

"No, no. Something else is going on with you. What is it?" Dad rushed on to ask.

I laughed nervously into the phone. "Just girl stuff. Don't worry about it." Typically, when dad's heard anything surrounding the words "girl stuff," he left it alone.

But instead, Dad snickered. "If I found out this has something to do with some new boy in town..." he began to warn me.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, dad. He's not some new guy." I quickly covered my mouth, silently cursing myself for letting that little admission slip.

"WHAT?" Dad's voice boomed on the other end. I had to pull the phone away from my ear. I knew he wasn't mad or anything, just in a tiny bit of shock and mostly likely drowning with curiosity. "Mia..." he began.

"Dr. Harper. Your next patient is here," I heard his assistant say, interrupting him.

Boy, did she have good timing?

"I have to go," Dad hurried on to say. "But we'll pick this up later, okay." There was no mistaking it. That was not a question but a statement.

"Sure thing, Dad," I mumbled, already developing a slight hint of anxiety over that future phone call.

"Alright. I love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

"Bye." He hung up first.

I let out a deep sigh.

I tossed the paper towel that I had been using in the trash bin and washed my hands.

One of the bakers asked me to bring out the fresh batch of Danishes and cookies.

"Sure, no problem." I slipped on the oven mitts. Grabbing the trays, I pushed open the kitchen door with my hip.

I placed the trays on the counter behind Freya as she removed the empty trays from the display cases.

"Everything okay with your dad?" Freya asked, piling one empty tray on top of the other.

I gave her a slow nod. "It's complicated."

Freya frowned.

Smiling softly, I quickly added, "But it's nothing that we can't handle."

I watched her expression become light and easy-going once more. Freya was one of the nicest people I've ever met, but I couldn't imagine burdening her with my problems.

"All right. But I'm here if you ever want to talk," she began to reassure me. "I know there are things happening in the real world, to real people," she sighed. "Regardless of the fact that I prefer to keep myself buried in my fantasy books."

I agreed. "I wouldn't mind living in a fantasy world," I told her. "I can't tell you how long I waited for my letter from Hogwarts to come in the mail." Just like every kid at 11 years old did at some point.

Freya giggled. "Every day, I ask myself why can't Hogwarts be real?" She whipped around to face me. "Out of curiosity, from one Potter head to head to the next, what classes would you be signing up for a Hogwarts."

I bit on my bottom lip in contemplation. "Hmm... Alchemy and Apparition."

Her mouth formed an O. "That would be so cool! Learning to teleport. And Alchemy is just a great mix of Human chemistry or muggle chemistry as they would call it, and potions but lastly, transfiguration." She clapped her hands together, getting carried away with the thought of it all.

"What about you?" I asked, leaning against the counter with both hands supporting me.

"That's easy. Divination and potions. Mostly, I want to concoct a love potion."

I paused, thinking I didn't hear her right. "A love potion?" I repeated in disbelief.

Freya's gaze shifted from me and fell to her feet. If I didn't know any better, I would say she was embarrassed.

"Well..." I thought about it some more. "It's not a terrible idea. If I didn't have Grey and my only real experience dating anyone was with my cheating ex, then maybe I'd be considering the same thing. I can't blame you." She seemed to pep up again. I didn't want her to think that she was the only one who felt like that.

I was sure lots of women had been there too.

With an all-knowing smirk on her face, she asked, "I thought you and Greyson were just friends?"

I paused, remembering how the first time we met, that's what we had told her. In my defense, it had been true in that moment.

"You see..." I started hesitantly. "What had happened was..." I bit down on my bottom lip.

Folding her arms across her chest, Freya urged me to continue. "Hmm..."

"It kind of just happened." I shrugged innocently.

Freya quirked a brow.

"I mean, like last night, happened," I confessed.

Her eyes grew wide, "OH MY GOSH!" She started doing a double hop in place. "I don't even know what to say!" She clasped her hands in front of her chest. "You guys are the cutest!"

"Thanks," I said, not knowing how to feel about that compliment, considering I was still letting it all sink in.

Freya continued, "And I know Grey cares about you. Not just by how he plays around with you but how he takes the time out to make sure you're going to be okay."

I scrunched my brows together, trying to think back to what she could be referring to.

She sighed, indicating that whatever she was about to say, she hadn't been planning on mentioning this. "Yesterday, when you went around back, Grey told me that you had hurt your toe and asked if I could keep you from walking on it too much."

I gasped. It was such a Grey thing for him to do. But the lengths he goes to sometimes occasionally baffled me.

Freya watched my reaction to the news before telling me more. "I told him it wouldn't be a problem. So I kept you in the bakery."

"I...he..." And here I was, failing to make coherent sentences. If I knew Grey was going to do this beforehand, I would have been kind of upset. I didn't want it to seem like I couldn't do my job well on my first day. Without complaints, I would have pulled through like the champ that I liked to think that I am. I wouldn't have asked for special treatment.

Leave it to Grey to take care of my smallest problems.

"Don't sweat it," Freya told me. "The minute I saw you limping, I would have done the same thing." She winked.

I smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you."

Freya nodded. "So anyway, back to potion-making. I've had the worst luck in the love department. I need some help. Magical help because I don't see it happening any other way." She slumped against the counter disappointedly.

"Maybe you're just looking in all the wrong places." I pointed out. It was a cliché line, but sometimes it rang true.

"I just want a decent guy. I don't even care anymore if he's super handsome or not." Freya said it like she was trying to convince herself as well as me.

I arched a brow.

It didn't take long for her to take it back. "Okay, okay. I would prefer that he was easy on the eyes..." She paused for a nano sec. "I want cute babies, alright!" she blurted out the last bit, throwing her hands in the air.

I busted out with laughter, catching her off guard.

"Hey, Mia," Freya's big brother Robbie aka my boss, greeted me.

"Hi, Robbie. Do you need me?" I asked politely, trying to recover from my laughing fit. I slipped off my oven mitts and rested them on the counter.

"No, I actually need to grab Freya for little." His eyes flickered to his sister's.

"Sure thing," she replied.

You know, as far as bosses go, Robbie might be my favorite. He was kind, smart, and generous. He treated all of his employees with respect and genuinely told them how much he appreciated their hard work. I couldn't think of one person that didn't like him.

"I know it's almost time for you to leave, but can you cover the bakery for a few extra minutes? You can take a pastry on the house." Robbie bribed me.

"It's fine. I don't mind." I gave him a thumbs up.

"Thanks," Freya and Robbie said in unison, then they walked off to his office.

I stood in front of the register and looked around the café.

There were few people seated, but this was our slow hour before the evening customers arrived.

When my eyes reached the furthest corner, I noticed the small table meant for two was being occupied by a young girl. She looked like she had a cup of tea or maybe hot chocolate on the table with a half-eaten cherry cheese Danish next to her.

I wonder why she was here alone.

This wasn't exactly a hangout spot for kids her age.

I decided to walk over to check if she needed anything and ask if she was doing okay.

She seemed to be hardcore focused on the work she had laid out in front of her.

Her small head of jet black hair didn't lift once. She wasn't easily distracted by the slight noise around her. She was in her own little world.

The closer I got, I realized that she had a math textbook open in front of her, but she wasn't working on it. She was focused on a sketch of a dragon instead.

I smiled. "That's really good!" I said, now hoovering over her, admiring her work.

She whipped her head up, and her cinnamon-brown eyes went wide. "Y-y-you..." she began to stammer.

I offered her an apologetic smile. I must have startled her.

"I didn't mean to scare or distract you from your drawing. I just came over to ask if you were okay and if I could get you something else."

She just sat staring at me with the pencil still glued to the paper. "I...I... I'm..." she began but then shook her head, clearly frustrated with herself.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, putting her pencil down and sliding her hands into her lap. She kept her head down. Her dark hair parted in the middle, almost reaching down to her elbows, curtained her features. I couldn't tell what expression she wanted to hide from me.

"It's fine. It's my fault. If you don't need anything, I'll leave you to it." I motioned to her drawing. I almost felt guilty for bothering.

She slowly rose her head, meeting my gaze. She looked a little tense. There was something brewing in her brain, and her eyes looked like she was uncertain or maybe nervous about communicating something. She could only keep eye contact for a few seconds before tearing her gaze from mine, only to bring it back again. Then she shifted in her seat.

"I'm okay," she muttered.

I looked down at her empty cup. "Would you like for me to get you a refill?" I offered.

She shook her head then remained quiet as she pretended to be fascinated with something happening outside.

I had to look behind me just to make sure I wasn't missing anything out there.

I peeked over my shoulder. Nope. Nothing.

I spotted a skateboard under the table by her feet, and I saw a helmet resting in the empty chair opposite her. I would have never pegged this girl as a skateboarder.

"Do you like to skateboard?" I asked her randomly. I didn't know why I felt like I wanted to keep her talking to me.

She nodded, still not looking at me.

Focusing my attention on the math textbook, I turned it around to me.

"Are you in summer school?" I asked.

She pouted, shaking her head. "I didn't do so great in math this year, so my parent's hired a math tutor for me for the summer. This." She pointed to the textbook. "Is the homework that I'm supposed to be doing, but it's so boring." She tilted her head back and let out an exaggerated sigh. "AGH!!"

I laughed. "Let me guess. You'd rather spend your time drawing mythical creatures and skateboarding?"

Her eyes lit up, and she grinned, flashing me the cutest smile. Her blue braces were exposed, and the two dots of dimples in her cheeks became more pronounced.

My eyes scanned her features. She has the most adorable button nose that compliments her face. Her cheeks have a sprinkle of freckles, and she has these rosy pink lips, like think of sleeping beauty's lips. Then those teddy bears eyes, as Grey liked to call them, the color almost resembled mine but maybe not. My eyes tended to change colors. I wondered if hers did the same.

All in all, she was possibly one of the cutest kids I've ever seen.

"Plus," she continued. "I don't get all of it. Even though she, my tutor Ms. Gracie, explained it a million times." She pouted, taking a deep breath and dropping her shoulders. "If I'm honest. After about the fourth time of her explaining it, I think I saw her getting annoyed and impatient. So I pretended I understood buuuttt I don't."

I didn't like teachers like that.

She shouldn't have felt like a bother when she didn't understand the material. Sometimes the teaching methods need to be tweaked for the student to understand a little better. Who's to say a little extra patience wouldn't have been the key.

I skimmed a few pages of the textbook to see what lesson she was on. These problems look easy enough. Then again, as much as I hated math, I was oddly good at it. My dad used to say it was a natural talent, one that he felt I got from him. He was probably right.

Mom math wasn't mom forte. She had a passion for the Arts, Literature, design, and all of that stuff. She used to be a museum curator back in the day, and I thought it was one of the coolest jobs.

I took another look around the café, making sure I wasn't needed back at the register or anything. I was in the clear.

Then I smiled down at the girl. "I could help you if you'd like. I'm pretty good at math."

She raised her brows in shock. "Are you sure? According to my parents, I have a pretty thick skull. My brain only processes foreign languages, K-pop dance choreographies, History, and Art everything. Don't ask me about anything that involves numbers. Agh." She rolled her eyes, closing her drawing book leaving only the pencil inside to hold her spot.

I smiled warmly. "Yes, I have a little free time. I think I can help you get a better understanding of all of this. It's real simple. I promise. I'll break it down as best as I can." I assured her.

She nodded excitedly, eager to get started. She handed me a spare sheet of paper with one of her pencils.

Ten minutes later...

"Seriously, that's it?" she asked, completing the first equation with very little assistance, I might add. I was exceptionally proud of my teaching skills at the moment.

"That's so easy!" she exclaimed, holding up the paper in front of her face with a huge triumphant grin.

I giggled at her reaction to finally making sense of it all. "I told you! Pre-algebra is a piece of cake."

She shook her head. "No. I think I just have a good teacher." She peered up at me. "You wouldn't want to take my tutor's spot, would you?" She asked in all seriousness.

I barked out a laughed. "Oh no. I'd hate the idea of putting someone out of a job."

"Eh." She waved off my response. "I don't think she would mind."

I smiled. "I doubt that."

I looked over my shoulder at the register and see that Freya has come back. She gave me a thumbs-up, indicating that she had it all under control from here.

"Do you want to sit down?" the girl asked me suddenly.

"Sure." I looked down at her helmet on the seat.

"Oh. I'm sorry," she said, leaning over the table to remove the helmet. "There." she placed the helmet off to the side.

I sat down and watched her begin to breeze through the problems. She understood it so well it almost makes me wonder if she was faking it earlier. I laughed in my head at the thought.

"So," I began. "What are you doing here all alone? Do you live close by, and do your parents know where you are?" I rested my arms on the table and leaned forward.

She didn't look at me, but I noticed the second her mood and face fell.

"I live about 20 minutes from here by car. On my skateboard, maybe 30 minutes. As for the reason I'm here..." She lowered her voice. "I came to meet someone," she said softly. Her eyes flickered to mine briefly.

"Oh yeah? And what happened? Did they not come to see you?" Who wouldn't want to meet her?

I wanted to ask who she was meeting and why. But was it any of my business? I mean, it could be a schoolmate, a long-lost relative, or... What if it was some child manipulator she met online or something crazy like that? Kids of all different ages were online, and they could get caught up in just about anything if they didn't have the proper supervision. Yet, as sweet as she looked, she didn't strike me as a girl that would take crap from a school bully, let alone fall for any online traps.

As if she could read my mind, she said. "Don't worry. They're not someone who would ever hurt me. Not physically anyway."

I nodded slowly. I wanted to know what she meant by that.

"Are they like a crush or something?"

She slammed her book shut, causing me to jump. Then she stood and started to pack her things into a backpack. "I have to go," she mumbled hurriedly.

I watched her slip on her helmet then pick up her skateboard.

"Wait..." I reached out and touched her shoulder.

She turned her head slightly. "Thanks for all your help," she spoke over her shoulder but kept her eyes downcast.

My hand slowly fell back to my side. "No problem," I said. "Maybe you can stop by some other time?" I couldn't explain it, but it didn't feel right watching her run off like this.

"Sure," she said, but I wasn't convinced that she meant it.

A part of me hoped she would keep her word anyways.