I practically skipped on my way back to the house. If I wasn’t hungover, maybe a cartwheel or two would’ve been possible. The past few days’ worth of crap had almost been forgotten, and then my phone rang. An unknown local number flashed on the screen. I clicked the green button. “Hello?”
“Blue? Blue Brennan?” a raspy voice asked.
I stopped on the sidewalk. “Yes, that’s me.”
“This is Eddie Miller…from Fast Eddie’s. You forgot to give me your number before you skedaddled out of here on Friday, but I found it scribbled on some paperwork in your glove compartment. I’m a regular gumshoe!”
“Eddie!” My euphoria from the meeting with Ty still hadn’t subsided, so I didn’t even bring up the topic he was a few days late in contacting me. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” He paused. “A lot better than your car.”
Suddenly, my cloud nine mood plummeted and my feet were firmly planted back on the ground as I trudged up the porch to the house. Words like overhaul, lemon, and cracked cylinder were what stuck out most from our conversation. And the price to have it fixed left me reeling. If I didn’t know better, dollar signs were spinning behind my eyes like a slot machine refusing to pay out. It was far more than I’d expected, and it’d likely have been more cost-effective to buy a new car. But I didn’t have an established job for the financing.
After telling Eddie I needed to think about what I wanted him to do, I opened the front door with a heavy heart. Praying the day would look up, I locked it behind me and hoped for a few minutes alone.
My wish was short-lived.
“Blue, come to the kitchen. Now,” my mother’s voice sounded through the house, and it sliced the air like a hot knife through butter.
I walked down the hall, my mood already soured from the talk with Eddie. Listening to whatever bullshit Elana was about to unload on me left me on the verge of snapping. “What? I haven’t written anything for the funeral yet, and I don’t need to be chastised for it.”
Her eyes were cold and emotionless, but the redness spanning her cheeks and her folded arms told another story. A total paradox. It was poker face, level expert.
In turn, I crossed my arms. Mockery was certain to make the situation better. Okay, maybe not.
“Care to tell me what the hell is going on around here?” Her entire body shook with rage.
“What are you up in arms about now?” I asked. “I’ve done what you wanted and stayed out of your hair. Just like old times.”
“Are you trying to destroy my chances at being re-elected?” Her upper lip twitched as she spoke. “Would that make you happy?”
“No?” My unintended lilt formed the response into a question.
“When were you going to tell me? Did you think you’d be able to hide it forever? What you’ve gone and done is a big deal, missy.”
Oh, no. She’d broken out the M-word. Shit was about to get real. “Find. Out. What? Why do people around here have to act so fucking cryptic about everything?” I asked through bared teeth, my voice rising and my tone hardening. “It’s like one of those artsy movies. Everyone watches and pretends to get it, but no one really understands what’s happening.”
She walked over to the counter and yanked opened a drawer, the contents all sliding to the front from the force. Rifling through the junk, she slammed items on the counter. Tape measure. Ball of string. Stapler. Old cell phone charger. All of them seemed pretty common for a crap drawer. Finally, she gripped a white stick and thrust it in my direction. That was the mystery item that didn’t belong. “Here. Since you think I’m stupid.”
“Are we playing board games now? Was it Elana Meyers in the kitchen with a white piece of plastic?” I asked.
“Take it.” She waved it my direction and forced it into my hand. “You know damn well what that is. You two bonded with a golden shower not too long ago.”
I looked down at the object resting against my palm. My brain told me it was one thing, but my eyes refused to acknowledge it. A square window was on one end with a prominent plus sign on it. The other showed a bright blue company logo fading into hot pink that read, “Possibly Pregnant?”
Fuck. My. Life.
I tried to hide my shock, but my own poker face had been rusty since arriving in Steele Falls. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about.” I offered it back to her. “It’s not mine.”
“If it’s not yours, who does it belong to? Finn isn’t here, and I doubt he’d even know what to do with a…” She scrunched her eyes shut for a moment before continuing. “Daveigh isn’t dumb enough to get herself knocked up and leave the evidence in the garbage can. So, that leaves—”
“Wait, did you call me dumb…” My eyes flicked up at my mom and I could see Daveigh, who’d entered the room sometime during the conversation. She stared at me from behind Elana with tears welling in her eyes. Lower lip trembling, my little sister silently mouthed the word, “Please?”
If there were ever a time in my life to protect Daveigh, it was then. I shut my eyes and remained quiet while every curse word in the book flitted through my mind.
Damn it.
“Okay, you’re right. I’m pregnant.” I smacked the countertop with my hand. “And I did it out of spite so I could ruin your chances at winning the election. That’s all I could think about the entire time he fucked me six ways to Sunday. Happy now?”
“Hardly. And you can drop your load of sarcasm at the door. Since someone else has already dropped theirs in your vagina.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s the father?”
The father. Double shit. I had no baby daddy lined up for the story’s next chapter.
“It’s no one you know,” I lied, fumbling for a name. The next sentence flew out of my mouth faster than one of Cash’s cock sneezes. “He’s a plastic surgeon.” Really, Blue? You couldn’t do better than Cash?
“Great. Not even a ‘real doctor’.” She used air quotes as she let her hands fall, her palms slapping her outer thighs. “How could you be so stupid? The media—”
“He went to medical school for eight years. Cash is a real doctor.”
“Blue, plastic surgeons don’t save lives. They inject with Botox and suck fat off asses. They sculpt noses and make people into who they aren’t. That’s hardly worth commending with a degree, let alone a paycheck.”
“And being a politician is worthy of applause?” I never thought I’d see the day where I’d be defending Cash, but there I stood. I glanced toward the window to check the weather. Maybe hell had frozen over.
She bumped the drawer closed with her hip. “So, when’s the wedding?”
Hold up, home slice! Marriage? My eyes bulged. Why did the conversation have to take a detour out in left field? “No to a wedding, Mom. We broke up.” Okay, so there was some truth.
Her jaw dropped. “So, you’re going to do what exactly? Raise this child alone? On your salary?”
“By the way, it gets better,” I lowered my voice to a whisper and narrowed my eyes. “Not only did I get laid, but I got laid off.”
She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Oh, for the love of everything Holy. I’m going to have to up my blood pressure medication over this.”
“A wedding doesn’t solve problems. You should know that from when you married that fuckwad father of mine. The only reason you did it was because you were knocked up with me!”
I’d pushed the envelope.
Her teeth bared. I watched her choke on the toxic words she wanted to spew at me. I wasn’t certain why she didn’t follow through.
“What? You don’t think I can do it on my own? I’ll figure things out.” For a moment, I almost wanted to take it on as a personal challenge to prove her wrong. I’d forgotten I wasn’t actually pregnant.
“I don’t think you understand how much work it takes to raise a kid,” she said. “You lose sleep, you lose freedom, you lose—”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“Blue.” Daveigh touched my arm. “Don’t.”
I couldn’t hold back. It was the straw that broke the pseudo-pregnant woman’s back. “For all the times you were too busy with the election to handle your own children? I may have well as been Daveigh and Finn’s parent.” I began counting tasks off on my fingers. “I did the cooking, the cleaning, helped with their homework before I did my own. I tucked them in and read them bedtime stories every damn night! What did you do? That’s right. Came home late at night after campaign meetings and went to bed, only to do the same damn thing the next damn day. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. It was as if we didn’t even exist.”
She gripped the top of a dining room chair, her knuckles whitening.
Daveigh pleaded. “Let it go.”
“No, ‘Veigh. I’ve bit my tongue for too long.” I turned my attention from my sister back to my mother. “If you spent half the time worrying about your kids as you do about how the media portrays you, maybe we wouldn’t be such a fucking dysfunctional family. You were a wife and a parent to nothing but your political status.”
She recoiled, as if I’d shot her in the chest, and it was the biggest stance I’d ever taken against her.
“Look at us, Mom. Take a good look around. Do you know of any other family who goes through what we did growing up?” I stood my ground and awaited her response. Waited for the pain. Waited for the anger. It had to come at some point.
But it didn’t. Poker face remained engaged.
Something ticked inside me at that very second. It was a mirror effect, and I hated that it took an altercation with my mother to learn something about myself. In our heated words, I understood that I’d become her. Over the past two years, I’d learned how to bury my feelings. Being absent from all of it numbed the pain that I fought so hard to evade. I didn’t know how to deal with any of it now that I was back. All I could do was deflect.
“What’s it gonna take to get some emotion out of you?” I yelled.
She still didn’t acknowledge a word of what I said. She merely swallowed, straightened out her blouse, and then stilled. “The plans for the funeral have changed. You’re to read a scripture verse. I don’t need some pregnant, hormonal, twenty-something year old bumbling her way through a speech I haven’t approved. And don’t go advertising this error you made to the town. I still have to figure out a way put a positive spin on it.”
“Well, Elana, it’ll make you happy to know I’ll be leaving in a couple of days, so you’ll never have to worry about this baby.” I cradled my abdomen. “But I’m pretty sure the town of Steele Falls doesn’t give a rip whether the mayor’s daughter is pregnant. Enjoy not knowing your grandchild.”
The corners of her mouth drooped farther into a frown before she went to speak, but I didn’t care about what she had to say.
“Trust me. I’ve got this just fine on my own.” I cut her off and headed toward the door, narrowing my eyes at Daveigh. My voice rumbled through my chest, “You owe me. More than you’ve ever owed me in your entire life.”
The look on her face was filled with a mixture of thirty-five percent panic, thirty-five percent regret, and thirty percent indecision.
I slammed the front door behind me, letting the screen door slap shut as an echo. How the hell was I going to get myself out of my situation? I had no clue.
I sat down on the porch swing and pushed back, locking my knees to brace the seat in place. Anger pulsed in my veins, and I didn’t even feel the cold as it whipped through my sweater. A few minutes later, Daveigh closed the door quietly behind her.
My little sister stood in front of me, looking guilty as hell.
“Well, I could really use a drink right now, which seems to be the common theme to this visit,” I said. “But I’m pretty sure the eyes and ears of the town will turn me in to the momster police if I make one wrong move with an imaginary baby hiding in my uterus. So, thanks for that,” I said.
Daveigh remained silent as she shifted her weight.
I looked up at her and cocked my head to the side. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I’m your sister.”
“Just because you’re my sister, doesn’t mean you’re my friend,” she mumbled.
“What happened to us? We used to tell each other everything. Pregnant? That’s a huge secret to keep hidden.”
“Everything changed when you left. It was so different.” Her voice hitched. “Where were you when I needed you?”
“‘Veigh…”
“Damn it, Blue. Don’t give me that look, like I failed you. I’m pregnant; I didn’t commit a crime I need to fess up about. I’m sorry I got you involved in all this.” She blotted her eyes with a tissue. “I peed on a dozen sticks before I believed it was true. Trust me, I bought every last one the dollar store had. The one Mommy found had fallen behind the vanity, and I didn’t notice it when I took the others to the dumpster behind the coffee stand last week. I thought I buried it deep enough in the bathroom trash. Didn’t know she examined every fucking wad of dryer lint and piece of dental floss before she took it out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me on the phone Friday?” I asked.
She let a laugh out through her nose. “Do you really think you’d have come to Steele Falls if you knew beforehand? Be honest. It wouldn’t have swayed your decision a damn bit.”
I tried to answer her, and I thought about flinging her comment back about the horse tranquilizers she’d made earlier, but I genuinely didn’t know what to say. Would I have come to support my sister or would I have chalked it up to more of her hysterics and swept it all under the rug?
My voice was timid, “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
“Kinda what I expected you to say,” she replied before blowing a wisp of hair out of her face.
I leaned back farther into the porch swing before lifting my feet. “Who’s the father?”
“Who do you think?”
My eyes widened. “Please tell me you didn’t go back for one last pump and dump with Gene. Is there going to be a mini Rent-A-Cop running around here in a handful of months?” I wrinkled my nose.
“It’s not Gene’s.”
“Bean…Wesley?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I guess you guys are more serious than I thought. How far along?” I asked.
“A couple of months. First ultrasound was last week.” She lifted her shirt to expose the nearly non-existent swell of her belly above her unbuttoned jeans. “I’m so bloated, I can’t wear any of my cute stuff. My pants don’t fit. I can’t color my hair. Food makes me wanna barf. Whoever said it got it wrong. Pregnant life blows. It doesn’t glow.”
“Is that,” I glanced down at her stomach, “why you quit working at the coffee stand?”
“No one will want to see this in the coming months.” She motioned to her frame. “Well, I take that back. There are a few creeps who want to see a pregnant chick in a G-string and pasties, but they gross me out. I mean, Cindi did it and worked right up until her water broke. Made a shit ton of tips too. So gross.” She sat down next to me on the porch swing. “There’s no way I’m serving drinks with tiger stripes that look like a road map across my stomach and thighs.”
Serving drinks. A light clicked on in my head and my eyes bulged. “And you had alcohol the other night at The Fill & Spill? And last night too?” I flicked her ear. “What were you thinking?”
She held up a hand to shield herself from me. “I didn’t drink.”
“Um. So, was it your body double holding that beer when you came back from talking on the phone?”
“It was apple juice. I’m not stupid, Blue. But I’m not ready to tell anyone about this yet, so I’m doing everything I can to hide it. Mommy especially needs to be kept in the dark. With the whole funeral thing? The whole politics thing?”
I looked at my sister and pitied her. What should’ve been an exciting series of moments in her life was being made into a time of shame and regret. She needed someone to lean against. A rock. There was no doubt Beanbag was taking on that role, but I could tell she ached for another female to be involved and sympathize with her. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be Elana considering what went down in the house. How would she take it when she found out it was really her golden child? I didn’t envy Daveigh one bit.
“So, what happens now? You stay with Beanbag?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. He’s keeps bringing up a wedding. I mean, he’s the most loyal guy I’ve ever been with. But that’s not a reason to get married. And what if he’s better off without me?”
“That’s the hormones talking. I’ve known that guy for a long time, longer than you have. He doesn’t take that kind of stuff lightly.”
“And what if he leaves like your dad left Mommy? And like you left us? That’d destroy me, Blue. I don’t want to become…” She glanced toward the house. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at me for guidance. “Maybe being alone is best, and I can save myself the pain by ending it now. What do you think?”
Her fears struck home with me in so many ways, even though our situations were worlds apart. She wanted my opinion. In turn, I wanted to shake some sense into her. I wanted to hug her and say everything would be okay. I wanted to reveal my own secrets for her to relate to. So damn bad. But I was terrified and couldn’t bring myself to do it. All I could do was ask her the one question I was too afraid to ask myself because it would break me. “How does he make you feel?”
Without hesitation, she sniffled. “I love him.”
“And what about the baby?”
“I dunno. He’s excited. It’s so annoying; he helicopters around me like I’m made of glass and I’m going to shatter if someone looks at me wrong. That’s why we’ve been arguing. The secretive phone calls. And add Mommy’s attitude on top of it all…”
I let out a slow breath through my nose. “‘Veigh, you’re an adult. You don’t need the momster’s permission to give birth. You don’t even live under her roof anymore. I’ll tell you what though—you need to tell her the truth. Before she finds out on her own. She’ll figure it out when I’m baby-free in a handful of months and you’re the size of a house.”
“I know,” she said. “I just wish…everything was different.”
I wrapped my arm around her as she rested her head on my shoulder. “You and me both, kid.”
Like every other day in Steele Falls, that one contained elements I couldn’t have predicted. For a few hours, I sat there and held my little sister while neither of us spoke a word. Our silence was the most honest conversation we’d had since I’d arrived.
* * *
Later that afternoon, I ransacked my closet, pulling out a black-and-red floral maxi skirt that grazed the floor and a fitted black camisole. Strappy sandals and a sheer kimono with crimson accents completed the look. I freshened up my makeup, a rarity in my world, and tamed my mess of curls.
Fortunately, the house was empty when I was ready to head over to Brennan Construction, which meant no further reprimand from the momster. Lucy had picked up Daveigh for dinner twenty minutes prior, and my sister was kind enough to let me borrow her car for the night.
The drive was quick, and the closer I got, the more my stomach tied itself in complicated knots. I pulled up five minutes early and wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt before heading inside. The lobby was quiet, Rita, the nosy receptionist, had already left for the day.
Ty was walking by the front desk at a brisk pace with a couple of file folders as I headed toward the waiting area. “Hey, Blue. I’ll be with you in a few minutes. Last minute fire to put out. Not literally, thank goodness.” He thumbed halfway through the papers. “Go down the hall to the break room and I’ll meet you in there. Second door on the left. Bottled water’s in the fridge and the coffee’s still on. No guarantees it isn’t mud though.”
I headed down the quiet hallway, plush carpet underfoot. The music was absent, and the lights buzzed overhead. The break room was empty. I grabbed a miniature bottle of water from the fridge, cracking the lid as I absentmindedly looked at the bulletin board of notices. State laws, minimum wage posters, a suggestion box with a half-used tablet of paper, and a whiteboard of sketches caught my eye.
I wasn’t paying attention when someone walked in behind me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” the voice was masculine and annoyed.
Slowly, I turned around and saw the face I was hoping to never encounter again.
“Adam Rockwell,” I replied. “What are you doing here?”
He looked down at his dust-coated tee-shirt and mud-stained jeans. “Well, if I don’t work here, it’d be weird to walk in looking like this.”
“Sarcastic much?”
“What? Sorry. Can’t hear you.” Adam cupped his hands under the running faucet at the stainless sink and splashed water on his face.
I leaned against the fridge. “It’s like you’re stalking me or something.”
“You’re the one who walked in here. And now you have a problem with where I work? Is there a secret list of Blue-approved companies I should know about? Please, tell me where I can buy a copy for my bookshelf.”
I gritted my teeth. “It’s my uncle’s company, and you know it. The last name is a dead giveaway.”
“A lot doesn’t get past you, does it?” he asked. “So, what’s the issue, blue eyes?”
“Don’t you see the irony? And don’t call me that.”
Crystal clear droplets dripped from Adam’s chin and stubble, distracting me. He offered another hate-filled stare that he’d become an expert at. “Please. Explain the issue and tell me how it’s ironic.”
An elongated silence filled the air as both of us refused to back down. Where? Where was my uncle and why was it taking him so long to come back?
“The issue is,” I paused, “you’re working in construction. The way you act, it seems like destruction is more your speed.”
“Are you talking about what happened at the bar? If memory serves right, you’re the one who spilled the beer on me, and you’re also the one who went digging up my past. Forgiving you isn’t a requirement of your sad attempt at a truce.”
I glared at him.
“And not that you give two shits about it, but a lot of companies aren’t willing to take a chance on a guy like me who—”
Just then, the door opened and Ty walked back into the room. “Great! I see you two have met. There’s some good news and some bad news. Blue Brennan, this is my project lead, Adam Rockwell. Adam, this is my niece, Blue. She might be coming to work for Brennan Construction.”
“Project…lead?” I felt the color drain from my face.
Adam’s eyes looked as if they’d pop out of his head. “Her? Work here?”
Fabulous.
“From afar. Working from way afar,” I corrected Ty.
“This is a hands-on and high-pressure company. Reliability is important,” Adam said. “Remote positions rarely work out. What makes you think you can handle it from miles away? Would you remain in contact on a consistent basis or would you slack off and disappear before your shift ends?”
“Guys.” Ty looked at each of us as if he were watching a tennis match. “I said I had good and bad news.”
I let out a deep breath, not knowing what could possibly be worse. The plague? Growing a third eye? Finding out Santa wasn’t real? “And the bad news?”
His attention turned toward Adam. “The bad news is I had an issue come up with that Gervais strip mall I’ve been working on. It means I’ll be about an hour late, but the good news is I’m sending you two over to The Oasis to get started. Discuss the project and see if it’s of interest to Blue. Tell Lyle to put it on my tab.”
Adam’s face blanched as he stumbled over his words. “What about Stephan? Shouldn’t he be there? His input would be far more—”
“Sonia has the stomach flu, and they have six-week old twins. You two can wing it until I get there. Like I said, it shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
I let out a long, audible breath and pursed my lips. Being alone in a restaurant with a guy who looked like he wanted to destroy me with every fiber of his being sounded less than appealing.
“I guess we don’t have any choice,” I mumbled. “Let’s go get this over with.”
“Finally. Something we can agree on.” Adam grabbed his jacket off a coat hook on the back of the door.
I reluctantly followed him toward the door.
Adam stopped abruptly. “Hey, Ty?”
My uncle turned around. “What’s up?”
“Why don’t we go to Mario’s instead? It’s right down the street from the office. Besides, the wait time at The Oasis is always about two years long. It makes more sense.”
I clutched the strap to my tote bag tightly. “I don’t think—”
“You don’t think what?” Adam asked.
“I don’t think the setting is suited for a business dinner. That’s all.” I huffed.
“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Ty replied, pulling his cell phone from his pocket to answer a call.
“I’m sure you have GPS and can find the restaurant on your own.” Adam smirked and headed toward the exit. “See you there, Blue.”
I closed my eyes, trying to maintain my composure.
* * *
Mario’s was a five-minute drive from Ty’s office, and I beat Adam there. I sat in Daveigh’s car for a few minutes and chewed my lip before mustering enough bravery to get out and lock the door.
“It’s one dinner,” I whispered to myself as I wiped my hands on my skirt.
Memories flitted through my mind as I walked across the parking lot. The same gravel-coated pavement with faded stall lines and giant street lamps. The same quiet street and giant bushes surrounded the small building. The same distant crash of the ocean waves.
As I approached the entrance, Adam appeared from around the side of the building where overflow parking spaces were located. He didn’t acknowledge my presence as he walked ten feet behind me.
My nostalgia of the restaurant didn’t go unnoticed, and I was sure every contradicting emotion I felt was spelled out on my face in bold Sharpie marker. I tugged on the brass door handle; it felt heavier than I remembered. A significant click gave way when I pulled harder. The wave of warmth that washed over me used to be inviting and comforting during my eight-hour shifts. It’d morphed to crushing and debilitating.
I could’ve drawn the layout from memory down to the minor details. Faded brickwork surrounded the tunnel-shaped hallway from the entrance to the hosting station. The smell of garlic, olive oil, and fresh bread filled the air, bringing back unwanted flickers of the past. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
A wicker basket sat in the corner, displaying a graveyard of lost children’s toys. Each was heavily worn from love while they waited for their devastated owner to come back. I immediately recognized a floppy rabbit on the left; it’d been in the same spot since my last trip to Mario’s.
Antiquated license plates had been made into artwork. Their age was showcased with rusty edges while a row of vintage soda bottles jutted against the lip of a counter. Red-and-white labels were each staged perfectly, facing forward. Strings of garlic and dried chili peppers adorned the vertical support beams, giving distraction from their flaky, green paint. All of the pieces were present, completing a jigsaw puzzle of my past. It was like I’d never quit working there, reiterating time had stopped.
A young waitress walked around the corner with a bounce in her step and vibrant pink streaks in her pale blonde hair. She wore jeans and a baseball t-shirt. I wondered if the tops were still as scratchy as I remembered. Her nametag read Lyndsie in simple red font on a white background. “Two tonight?” she asked with a southern accent.
“For now, y…yes,” I said, my voice hoarse as I took in more of the surroundings.
“Y’all want a table or booth?” she asked.
“Booth,” Adam replied without hesitation.
For a moment, I’d forgotten he was there.
Lyndsie led us to a booth along a wall where fake vines of pale ivy clung to the brick, intertwining their way along the top of a makeshift cable car. Tiny lights twinkled along the top in red-and-green, their hues enriched against the dark ceiling. Chandeliers with checkered maroon-and-cream-colored glass hung from above.
“Is this okay?” Lyndsie asked.
“It’s fine,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Actually,” Adam nodded toward the next booth down, “could we sit there?”
Lyndsie gave him a questioning look.
“Lighting’s better.” Adam flashed me a fake smile and gestured to a file folder in his hand. “Work meeting.”
“Well, of course.” Lyndsie nodded. With one swoop, she gathered the menus and moved them to the next table over along with a pitcher of water before disappearing into the kitchen.
I stood, frozen. “Are you kidding me right now?”
Adam sat down on the worn cushion of the bench-style seating. “If I’m joking, Lyndsie’s not going to be very happy about the whole table switch thing. Is this a problem for you?”
“Nope.” I ground my teeth and threw my bag down on the seat.
Adam’s smile was smug.
“Of all the restaurants in town, why so fucking persistent about Mario’s?” I shivered and sank against the bench across from him, the familiar ambience doing little to console me.
“Why wouldn’t I suggest my favorite restaurant? I have dinner here. Every Tuesday.”
“Every Tuesday.” I sighed, elongating both words. “Don’t lie to me, Adam.”
“You seem standoffish. Do you not trust me?” He took a swig of water from a cheap plastic cup, a ring of condensation left behind on the table. “I’m not lying.”
“You hate Italian food. You made it blatantly clear at the bar last night,” I replied.
“I didn’t say I came here for the food.”
Knots tightened in my stomach, my appetite gone. “Then, I don’t get it.”
“Call it punishment,” he muttered, his focus turning to the faded menu.
“So, you come here, a restaurant that exclusively serves Italian food, because you don’t like fettuccine and manicotti? Makes total sense.”
His eyes locked with mine. “No, Blue. I come here for the memories.”
Shit.
I felt the corners of my mouth droop as silence took a firm hold at our table.
Soft country music played in the background and it didn’t fit the mood. At all. Something angry and intense, like heavy metal, felt more appropriate.
“Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this,” I said, pushing the napkin-wrapped silverware setting away from me. “Dinner. It was a mistake.”
Lyndsie had suddenly appeared again, interrupting us. “Can I get y’all some drinks?”
From where she stood, I was trapped between her and the wall. My only escape route was under or over the table. Both would cause a scene and neither seemed like a good idea. It left one fact remaining. A single dinner with Adam was a situation I’d need to endure. “Just the water,” I replied.
“Cola, please.” Adam said. “Oh, and can I get some crayons?”
“Sure…thing.” Lyndsie shook her head slowly as she walked away.
Awkward silence was quickly trumping words.
“So, do you want to talk about the details of the job?” My eyes flicked down toward the folder on the table.
“Not yet,” Adam replied. “Be patient, blue eyes. I want to order first.”
I drummed my index finger on the table and let out a deep breath. “I asked you to not call me that.” There was no denying it’d be a long evening.
A few minutes later Lyndsie returned with our drinks. “Would y’all like to hear our dinner special?”
“No,” I said as Adam interjected simultaneously, negating my answer.
“Would you quit prolonging this?” I glared at him.
“Come on. I’d love to hear about the amazing special this place has to offer.” Adam leaned back and stretched out his arms on either side of him, resting his elbows on the top of the shoulder-high bench cushion, his hands left dangling, relaxed. “We owe it to Mario’s best waitress here.”
“Ummm…well,” Lyndsie shifted her weight, uncomfortable, “we’ve got a seasonal pumpkin pasta with fennel, sausage, and toasted hazelnuts. It’s pretty rad.”
“That sounds interesting.” Adam adjusted his posture and folded his hands before flashing me a glance. “Now, what would you say about the mood of the pumpkin when you were in the kitchen?”
“The mood?” She blinked with confusion.
“Yeah, the mood. Does it look trustworthy? It’s not one of those white, ghost pumpkins that might disappear when you’re least expecting it to, is it?”
“I don’t know?” Lyndsie furrowed her brow. “It’s a squash.”
“Would you stop!” I snapped. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“What? I want to make sure I can expect my dinner won’t take off on me. It’s a valid question.”
It was my breaking point, and I’d had enough. I wasn’t proud of that moment, but I decided to stoop to Adam’s level. Our poor waitress would be the victim. “Speaking of trust, how’s the lasagna, Lyndsie? It’s supposed to be a comfort food, right?”
“I guess?” Lyndsie said.
“Would you say it’s consoling?” I narrowed my eyes at Adam. “Maybe even understanding in a horrible situation, even?”
“So, should I give y’all a few more minutes to look at the menu?” Lyndsie bit her lip, and it was clear she wanted to pass us off to the waiter across the way.
“I’ll make this easy. We’ll both have the lasagna. No doubt it’s perfect.” I smiled sweetly and handed her both our menus.
“And could I still get those crayons? Maybe a kid’s menu to draw on?” Adam shouted after her as she walked away.
“She’s gonna spit in our food, you know.”
Adam glared at me. “By the way, I hate lasagna.”
“Good.” I took a drink of my water and crunched an ice cube. “Are we going to talk about this job yet or what?” I asked. “Pretty sure Ty isn’t going to be impressed with how you’ve treated me so far.”
“How you’ve been treated? If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is.” Adam looked away. “Maybe I should order some Jack for this soda.”
Lyndsie headed toward us with a small box of crayons and an oversized kid’s menu with cartoon noodles on the front of it. I didn’t stare, but I was pretty sure she tiptoed until she reached our booth. Then, she tossed it all on the table as she practically ran off.
“Perfect!” Adam’s eyes lit up as he ignored me, immediately opening the little cardboard box, spilling four miniature crayons onto the table. It was clear he was about to be lost in his doodle. I fiddled with my straw wrapper, twisting it into the tightest coil possible.
He continued to ignore me.
I blew a lock of hair out of my face. “Seriously?”
“Seriously what?” He didn’t look up from the scrawl of blue crayon across the paper.
“You’re going to sit there and do a dot-to-dot puzzle or a maze instead of talking to me?”
He let out a laugh through his nose. “You suddenly want to talk? That’s new.”
“Would you knock it off and act your age for once?” Immediately, I regretted the words as I clamped my hand over my mouth. The combination of syllables was a low blow and I knew it.
“Act my age?” His grip tightened on the crayon as it broke in half. Rage flooded his face, and he swallowed hard. “Go to hell.”
My heart thudded as I watched Adam stand up.
He tossed the two pieces of blue crayon on the table and crumpled up the paper menu he’d been scribbling on without breaking eye contact with me. “Don’t do that, damn it. I hate it when you do that.”
I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a questioning look. “What?”
“That thing with your face.”
“What? When I exist? Where the hell do you think you’re going, anyway?” I snapped.
“The bar.” He pushed the sleeves of his worn leather jacket up his arms and stood up. “You know, to act my age and have a fucking beer. God knows I need one after being around you.”
“Way to run away, Rockwell,” I muttered.
He leaned over and braced his hands on the table, his face inches from mine. “Listen to what I’m about to say and you listen good. Don’t even try to pin this on me or say a damn word about me turning my back on you. I’m not the one who walked out on us two years ago. You are. Live with it.”