Three Years Later
Hycinth (age 18)
"Lucky..." I groaned, sounding a bit too close to a whine for my preference. I cleared my throat and began again, edging my voice with firmness, "Luca Diamonte, you need to pull yourself together. We have clients in less than an hour." A muffled voice came from behind the bathroom door, "Patience, Cinn."
Growling under my breath, I turned on my heel and paced into our small kitchen. Coffee was clearly necessary today. I placed the single-use pod inside the Keurig and settled my favorite mug-white with black polka dots and a startling orange and red chrysanthemum flower- on the little stand. I set the machine to brew. Two minutes later, my coffee was ready, and Lucky wandered into the kitchen. I gathered the mug and climbed onto a tall stool next to the granite island.
Dressed in his usual attire of dark jeans and a T-shirt, he smelled fresh and clean. The scent of his shower gel hit my nose, spicy and aromatic. I breathed in the familiar smell, my brain automatically making the connection to home. Lucky was my only home now. My only family.
I couldn't help worrying about him. "You got in late last night," I began the conversation, letting my words linger in the air.
He opened a cabinet and pulled out a jumbo-sized box of Froot Loops, and then made his way to the refrigerator to get a gallon of milk. Tucking the box under his arm, he used his free hand to open the drawer and snatched out a spoon, before joining me on the island. "Yeah, she wanted round two. Or was it round three?" he said, absentmindedly. He poured cereal into the bowl.
I rolled my eyes. So, not, what I needed to hear. Clasping my mug in both hands, I blew gently. The steam dissipated into the air. "Do you even know this one's name?"