Chapter Seven
“Well, Donovan Valentine, as I live and breathe! I heard you were back in town, but I couldn’t quite believe it until I saw it with my own eyes! Lord, honey, it sure is good to see you.”
Warmth spread through Ella’s chest and a smile grew on her lips as she watched Grace Dobrevsi wrap her arms around Donovan and press him to her ample bosom. Grace and her husband Serge owned Main Street Eats, the diner at the far end of downtown, and had for as long as Ella could remember.
Grace was cheerful and big and loud and emotional and overprotective, and she’d been that way since Ella could remember, as well. She was one of Ella’s favorite people in the entire world, and most of Valentine Bay felt the same way.
“Hi, Serge!” Ella called, waving to the short, stick-thin man who stood where he always did, back behind the grill. He lifted his spatula in greeting and then lowered his head again. Ella couldn’t help but smile.
Serge was Grace’s opposite in every way, and not just physically. Where Grace was filled with bubbly affection for every resident that walked through the door, Serge was taciturn. Ella could only remember hearing him speak a handful of times over the years.
However, when he looked at Grace, the quiet and steady love that shone from his eyes took Ella’s breath away with its power. She could remember sitting in these booths when she was a kid and thinking, “That’s what I want. Someone who looks at me just like that.”
When Serge turned that loving gaze on Grace, it didn’t matter that he didn’t say much. His look said it all. He’d die for her.
Ella snuck a glance at Donovan. Could this be where the earliest seeds were planted in her mind of what a knight in shining armor looked like? That he would be the strong, silent type?
Her eyes traveled over to Jagger and she shriveled a little. Yet here I am with Manbun Mike, she thought to herself, her brain pulling up the phrase that Gen had used to describe him.
God. Thinking back on that conversation with Genevieve, she honestly couldn’t remember what she’d been thinking when she defended Jagger. He wasn’t a particularly bad guy, sure. But was that really the standard? Was that really what it took to get her to date someone?
Oh, I guess you’re not the worst of the worst option I’ve ever been presented with. Yeah, why not? Let’s paint the town red.
She shook her head. She’d been in a holding pattern was all. Coasting. Her mind had been numbed, like she’d been in a fog.
Well, that was over now. The scales had dropped from her eyes and she saw Jagger for what he was. Not bad, per se. But ridiculous.
Speaking of ridiculous, I’m at a lunch right now with a guy that I’m totally in love with and can’t bring myself to tell and a guy who’s such a caricature that I find myself cringing at the idea of touching him. And guess which one I’m on a date with?
She shook her head. Damn, Ella. You. Are. Killing. The. Game!
Ella was pulled from her reverie by Grace’s voice, ringing out rich and strong as she let go of Donovan and turned to Ella, giving her a playful smack on the shoulder. “Ella girl, now why didn’t you tell me your Donovan was back in town?”
Your Donovan.
Ella’s eyes filled with unexpected tears at Grace’s words, and she turned away to hide them.
“Can we get seated? Ella’s obviously feeling faint with hunger.”
Wow, Jagger could not read her signs at all.
“Oh, of course, of course!” Grace said, and grabbed three menus from the holder at the side of the hostess podium before bustling over to a table and extending her arm. “Here you go, hons! I’ll be back in a minute to take your orders.”
Ella slid into the booth and Donovan slid in across from her, and for two seconds, she was right back in high school. Since Main Street Eats had long been the only thing in town open past 10 p.m. besides Cupid’s Arrow Bar and Grill, which was really more ‘bar’ than ‘grill’ as the night wore on, she and Donovan had sat across from each other in these booths during hundreds, if not thousands, of late nights in the past. Studying, talking, or just eating fries in companionable silence. Those were some of the best memories of her life, and for that moment, she was reliving them.
Jagger plopped down on the seat next to her, ruining her reverie. “So, what are you getting, Ells?”
Without skipping a beat, she and Donovan rattled off, “Burger extra ketchup, fries extra crispy, Coke extra ice,” in perfect unison, as if they’d practiced the lines.
She met his eyes and they smiled. The first smile they’d shared since he’d walked through the door of her shop, and it released something in her. The band that had been squeezing her heart tighter since she laid eyes on him—be honest Ella, since he left town—loosened a few notches. Not entirely, but enough so she felt like she could draw in a deep breath. She hadn’t been able to do that for a long, long time.
She glanced at Jagger and saw that he was smiling, too, but his grin had a definite edge to it.
Jagger slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She didn’t like it. When Donovan pulled her to him like that, she felt protected and safe. Jagger’s arm felt more like a prison.
“Wow, so you guys were friends from way back, then,” Jagger said, his voice sounding like it was passing through shards of broken glass in his throat. “Way, way back.”
Donovan leaned back against the booth cushion, moving his shoulders up and down in what Ella could tell was only an impression of a casual shrug. It may have fooled someone that didn’t know him well enough to see the tensing around his jaw or the way his finger ran up and down the edge of the butter knife with barely-contained energy. To her well-trained eye, he was a panther on the verge of pouncing.
“I don’t think it’s how long we’ve known each other that makes the difference. More like how well we know each other.”
Jagger’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know, buddy. You can’t be that important to her if I’ve never even heard of you.”
The edge of Donovan’s lip twitched, and he conveyed so much more with that miniscule movement than most people got across with a full-blown smirk. “Well, I don’t know about that. I’d say you can’t be that important to her if she’s keeping secrets. But that’s just me. And I’m not your buddy.”
Jagger leaned back, face tight. “No need to get agro, dude. Uncalled for. Seriously not kosher.”
Ella couldn’t take the tension anymore. She turned and pushed Jagger out of the booth, wriggling out after him as fast as she could. “I gotta go!” she blurted.
“Where?” Jagger said, surprise written all over his features.
“Gotta re-open the store. I forgot that, um, a tour bus is coming through in a bit. They, uh…called me. They called me earlier to make sure we’d be open. I’ve gotta go.”
Jagger’s jaw tightened and he rolled his eyes. God, how had she never seen before what an utter jerk wad he clearly was? Gen had seen it, and she’d never even met him. “Ella, at least don’t lie. Do me that courtesy. You owe me that. Basic human decency. Just be straight with me.”
She stood still, her words frozen in her throat. Not because she didn’t know what she wanted to say, but just because it was tough to find a diplomatic way to phrase, I realize now what a giant asshole you are and I can’t stand it for even one more minute.
After a few seconds of silence, though, he turned and dramatically huffed, “Don’t call me,” then stormed out the front door.
Ella stared after him as the glass door shut, not quite processing what she’d just seen. Damn. The last hour or so had held a lot of things that her brain was finding difficult to process.
“Well,” Donovan said, his deadpan voice breaking into her reverie, “I guess he told you.”
She stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed, and then saw his lip twitch again. She burst out laughing, and still had her head thrown back when Grace came over, order pad poised.
“My goodness, I’m late to the party,” Grace said, an affectionate smile on her face.
Ella wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, calming her laughter. “Oh, no. No party.” She turned to Donovan and continued, her tone apologetic, “I really do need to go, though, I think. All of this…I mean…it’s a lot. You know?”
He nodded. “I do know. Go. I’ll see you at softball.”
She smiled gratefully and hustled toward the door, all of a sudden aching to be back in the solitude and comforting sameness of her shop, where hopefully she could put some of these pieces together in her mind.
Just before she was fully out the door, though, she heard Donovan say, “Grace, can you deliver an order to Ella at her shop a little later? I don’t think she’s eaten today. Burger extra ketchup, fries extra crispy, Coke extra ice. Just add it to my bill.”
Her heart clenched again as she walked along the sidewalk. That was Donovan. Her Donovan. Even in a situation as bizarre as this one, he was taking care of her. And, God, how she’d missed it.