“Honey, why don’t you go outside,” Anastasia’s mother said, coming into her room, while Anastasia sat in her bay window with her nose in another one of Hemingway’s novels. “Ana, you should go outside, I think you’ll love it here. Go out and make new friends.”

“Mama, you know I’m no good with strangers,” Anastasia replied, looking up at her mother. A small frown played on Anya Monroe’s lips as she watched her daughter, a lot had happened in the last few years and both Anya and Peter new that it affected their daughter in the worst ways but they didn’t know how to help or what to do. “Will it make you feel better if I go to a park and a coffee shop to read?” Anastasia asked her mother with a small smile.

“A little, I just want you to get out of this house,” Anya told her daughter, Anastasia knew her parents were worried about her but Anastasia continued to tell herself that she was okay, that she will be fine. Anastasia smiled a little at her mother before getting off of the bay window and went into her walk in closet that held too many clothes, but she absolutely loved her closet. Anya left Anastasia to change, coming to the conclusion of going to a coffee shop, Anastasia changed into a pair dark, denim, skinny jeans paired with a white tank with braided sports back. She grabbed a pair of black sunglasses, her white wedges, and a black purse before grabbing her book.

“Mom, I’ll be at the little café down the street,” Anastasia called to her mother before grabbing her keys off the key holder hanging next to the door leading to the garage. She opened the door to the garage, her Mercedes sat in the same spot she pulled into three months ago when decided to drive it across the country alone. “Hi baby,” Anastasia cooed, running her hand over the fender; she missed driving her car but for once she didn’t look forward to driving it. She unlocked her car door, she put her purse in the passenger’s seat first before sliding into the driver’s side. She opened up the garage door before closing her car door and backing out of the garage and heading in the direction of the coffee shop she had seen while out with her mother.

An old-fashioned bell rang above Anastasia when she walked through the door of the coffee shop. While looking around, she smiled at how home-y the café felt to her, the large, dark violet, plush, chairs in each corner and the bookshelves that lined the walls reminded her of her old room. Anastasia let out a soft sigh and walked up to the counter to order something to drink; this was not Starbucks and had no idea what to order. Anastasia looked over the menu hanging on the wall, finally she settled on a large, iced mocha from the cute barista that she gave a pretty smile to. “You must be new around here,” the cute barista smiled when he handed Anastasia her debit card back. Anastasia shrugged softly and put her debit card back in her wallet, “you must be, I would have remembered a pretty face like yours.” Anastasia blushed before walking away, the barista watched her walk away; rejected. He had never been rejected.

“Large iced mocha, no whip on the bar,” a different barista called from behind the bar. She grabbed the drink off the bar and couldn’t help but blush at the writing on the cup for the most beautiful I have ever seen. Anastasia peaked at the barista who took her order, he was already taking care of another customer; of course he was flirting with a different girl who was ordering and eagerly flirting back. Anastasia noticed that the barista was bored with the over done blond in front of him, obviously playing the part of the ‘warm barista’ and she looked away when his eyes met hers and sent her a wink before rolling his eyes at the woman in front of him.

Anastasia sat in one of the big plush chairs, her iced mocha sitting on the coffee table next to the chair while she pulled her book out of her bag. Anastasia easily got wrapped up in Hemingway, not noticing the time passing or the many lustful stares of the men of that came in and out of the café throughout the day. Anastasia felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and she pulled it from her jeans, “hello?” She answered her phone, closing her book on her finger to hold her place.

“Hey honey,” Anya Monroe said, hoping that her daughter maybe met a friend. “I haven’t heard from you all day, I was just checking up on you.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Anastasia replied to her mother over the phone. “I’m just reading at the café down the street, no need to worry.” Anya sighed softly and shook her head gently, she just wished her daughter would socialize with others and not hide away in her books. “I’ll be home soon,” Anastasia told her mother, she glanced down at the inside cover of her book.

One day you’ll love me more than you love Hemingway