I’m so incensed that everything is covered in a wild haze of anger, like that coating of flour over our clothes the other night. So what if everyone in the Short Stack is watching the most awkward moment of my entire lifetime? Soon I’ll be out of here, and everyone in Lakewood can talk about it with the tourists who are in here today.

I meet Ryder’s gaze from across the room, and he’s got such a silly grin on his face, so stupidly, fiercely happy, that for a split second I forget what I’m going to say. It’s like I’m seeing his blue eyes for the first time. I still have that falling, flying feeling.

But I’m riding the wave of my anger, all that hurt, and I let it fly. For once in my life, I don’t cower. Not even a little.

“And you.”

He raises his hands in the air, his expression settling into something more serious. He doesn’t try to interrupt, though I give him long enough to do it if he’s going to.

“You were such a dick yesterday that I literally can’t believe it.”

The restaurant around us goes silent again. The side-eye quotient in here just went up by a thousand, and I’m standing right in the center of it. This time, though, Ryder is in the spotlight with me, and it’s like people are just now realizing how insanely attractive he is. Out of the corner of my eye, I see one old lady at the center table by the wall lean over and whisper something to her friend, pointing her finger at Ryder.

Damn it, they’re right. Even just standing there in his classic black t-shirt and jeans, he’s making the temperature rise around us. I want to tear the shirt off of him and kiss him, push him back onto the floor, and have my way with him. I can’t, though, because my heart is smarting, aching from what he said yesterday.

“I don’t know why you’re here either. I don’t know why people think they can treat me like that, and then come crawling back like I’m just going to forgive what happened. No. Not this time. Not this time, Ryder Harrison.”

He doesn’t say anything. Silence, silence, silence. I’m expecting him to yell, to get red-faced and mean, but he doesn’t.

Conrad slinks out from behind me, coming through the doorway that I’m standing in now and cutting around by the side, both hands up like I’m the psycho in this scenario. He pauses in the other doorway, looks over his shoulder, and tries to get in one last word.

“You two are perfect together.”

Sharon shoots him a glare that’s enough to kill Medusa and points at the door. “Out.”

There’s some scattered applause. Part of me doesn’t mind. This is Lakewood. What the hell else is going to happen today? Nothing this exciting, for sure. The other part is even more pissed that Ryder has somehow turned my job, this good, steady job, with a good, steady boss who would never fire me on the suspicion of being pregnant, into a sideshow.

“I’m done being blindsided by men like you.” This one hits home, and I see it on his face, but I’m so bent on being heard that I don’t care. For once, someone is going to care what I think. And if Ryder is collateral damage, so be it. “The fling is over. We are over.” I’m saying the words loud and clear. Nobody will doubt me. Not after this.

Suddenly, it hits me, how very many people are staring at me right now. The Short Stack is not a large restaurant, but this is smack-dab in the middle of the morning shift, and almost every table filled up after Ryder got here. Every single person has their eyes on me.

It takes me right back to the agency on the day that I was let go for not meeting the standards of the company. Never mind that I had only been there a few months. Never mind that I was meticulous in my work. Never mind any of it. I felt everyone looking at me on the way out of the office. They all knew what was happening. Everyone except me.

The next words I had to say stick in my throat.

“I—”

Ryder makes a movement, like he’s going to come toward me. My heart throbs against my rib cage. If he touches me, I’m going to dissolve into a crying freak in the middle of the Short Stack.

I can’t let that happen.

“Valentine—”

“No,” I say, holding out my hand like a conquering hero. “No.” Then, because this is so bizarre that honestly nothing can make it worse, I decide to just walk on out of this situation. I’m just going to leave it behind. Conrad, Ryder, the Short Stack—it’s all too much in this moment.

The restaurant holds its collective breath.

Slowly, as if I’m in some weird hostage situation that I can only escape if I keep my movements precise and deliberate, I reach behind me and tug on the string of my apron. I catch it before it hits the floor and bunch it up in my hands. “This is embarrassing,” I announce to all the patrons of the Short Stack. My voice sounds strange, like I’m announcing that there’s been a severe weather update. “I’m going to go on break.” Then, in case anyone missed it, I say it again. “I’m taking my fifteen minutes.”

Not one person stops me on the way out. Not even Sharon.