by Lisa Lace
“It’s not irresponsible to let your hair down once in a while, Lissy. Your brother may have his issues, but he’s an adult. You should be able to have a night out without feeling guilty.”
Melissa frowns. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’ll put some coffee on.”
I choose not to say anything else because Melissa’s right—I don’t understand. I’ve never been responsible for another person or lost someone I loved. My life has been easy and privileged. What do I know about loss?
The last thing I want to do is put my foot in it by saying something insensitive, so I busy myself with the coffee machine. I hear Melissa moving around the bedroom as the water boils. Moments later, she appears beside me.
She’s wearing last night’s purple dress and heels. Her makeup has rubbed away overnight, and she didn’t bring a hairbrush, so her hair is wild. She’s put on her glasses again, so she looks like she’s just walked off the set of “Librarians Gone Wild.” Even in this state, I still think she could give any girl on campus a run for their money—she’s effortlessly beautiful.
I pour her a cup of coffee and slide it across to her. “At least get some caffeine in you before you head off.”
“Thanks.”
I gesture for her to take a seat at the breakfast bar, which she does. She appears restless, jostling her leg up and down and drumming her fingers against the edge of the cup.
I take a seat beside her. “Relax,” I say gently. “I’m sure Connor will be fine.”
“I hope so.”
“Does he have special needs?”
She makes a face, then laughs. “What? No. Why?”
I shrug. “I’m wondering why you’re so worried about him. He’s nineteen. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”
Melissa hesitates and lets out a long breath. “He gets himself into trouble a lot.”
“So do I. He’s young. That’s normal.”
“I’m not talking about having a few too many and hitting on tons of women. Connor gets into real trouble—fights—drugs.” She sighs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’re worried I won’t understand?”
“I know you won’t understand.”
“All I know is that I had a great time last night, and I’d hate for it to be a one-time thing because I kept you out too late. You’re entitled to have your own life, Lissy.”
She shakes her head. “Please stop. I know you’re trying to help, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a responsibility to Connor. I promised Mom I’d take care of him. If anything happens to him because I was out having fun—I’d never forgive myself.”
“Does that mean I won’t be seeing you again?”
She lets out a long breath, her body slumping. “I don’t know, Henry. I had fun last night, but I have a lot going on in my life right now. I’m not sure that inviting a man into the mix is the best idea. It’s complicated.”
I watch her gulp down her coffee, rushing to leave. I can see the stress in the way she carries herself; every inch of her looks worn out and fed up. She didn’t look that way when she was dancing last night.
“You have my number,” I say. “You should call me.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Or else I’ll see you in lectures.”
“Mm-hmm.” Melissa is avoiding my eyes. She finishes her coffee, places her cup down on the breakfast bar and stands up. Everything in her body language says she’s trying to escape.
I lay my hand gently on her arm. “Do you regret last night?” I ask her. “If I overstepped any lines, I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to stay.”
Her eyes widen, then soften. She lays her hand over mine and smiles. “I don’t regret it. I wanted to stay.”
I nod. “All right.”
I fold my arms over my chest and stand back so Melissa can finish gathering her things. She picks up her handbag and turns to face me one last time.
“Thanks for last night, Henry. I’m sorry I have to leave in a hurry.” She pauses, smiling at me softly. “I had fun. Guess it’s time to do the walk of shame.”
“Hang on,” I say. I go to my closet and take out my old university hoodie. I hand it to her. “Take this.”
She holds up the gray sweatshirt to examine it. She studies the logo. “Kings College, Cambridge. Wow.” She pulls it over her head. It’s too large for her and looks odd with her short dress and heels, but at least her chest is covered. She pulls a hair tie from her handbag and pulls her hair back into a rough pony. “Thanks.”
“Do you want me to walk you back?”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
We stand opposite each other awkwardly. After a whirlwind night, it’s all come to a sudden end, and neither of us is sure what to say.
“You’ll be safe, won’t you?” I ask uncertainly. “Your brother won’t be too mad?”
“Connor has his issues, but he’s not like that. Forget I said anything. I’ll see you at the next lecture.”
I walk her to the apartment door. We say goodbye with a short, distant hug, and then she leaves.
I’m left feeling uncertain and uneasy. Last night with Melissa was great. I enjoyed seeing her come to life on the dancefloor and lose her inhibitions. I saw two different sides to her last night—her fun, free-spirited side, and the side she tries to hide—the long-suffering and devoted older sister.
There’s more to her than I realized at first glance, and her story stirs something within me. I recognize that she deserves more than someone who’s going to use her, then throw her away. That’s not you, Henry. You don’t have it in you to be that man.
I shake away the thought. For once in my life, I want to do right by the woman I’m with. Melissa is more than just some fling. She means a lot to me.
Melissa
My mind is racing when I get to the diner for my waitressing shift. Connor interrogated me when I arrived home, and I had to deal with his temper while I rushed to get ready for work. I barely had time to shower and change before I had to fly out the door for my mid-morning start. I’m working the lunch rush, then catching a lecture before I come back this evening.
I’ve been working at the diner now for two months; I started before the semester began. I like it here. The customers are laid back, and the team is friendly. I get on particularly well with Lucy, a young single mom with a fiery personality and purple hair that she likes to wear in pigtails. Today, she’s also wearing a black choker necklace with a little purple heart charm.
She grins when she sees me and waves from across the diner. “Hey girl, how’s it going?”
The diner is laid-out in an old-fashioned fifties design, with a bar-style serving counter that overlooks the kitchen, and red vinyl booths line the remaining three walls. There’s even a retro jukebox in one corner, and the place is decorated with framed vinyls and black-and-white autographed photos of old movie stars.
I dip behind the counter and pull my baby-blue pinafore with pink frills from its hook. I tie it around my waist and stand with Lucy. “I’m not too bad, thanks. How are you?”
“I’m surviving. You ready for another crazy lunch rush?”
“Ready as ever.”
“It’s busy as hell, but the tips go a long way. You’re on section one today. That okay?”
“No problem.”
Lucy pauses and cocks her head to one side inquisitively. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You look like someone’s kicked your puppy.”
I smile. “I had a crazy night.”
“Tell me.”
I open my mouth to fill her in on my night with Henry, but as soon as I start to speak, we’re interrupted by the first of the lunchtime customers. “Hang on,” I apologize. “Let me seat these guys and get their drinks.”
I go to the young family and take their orders, plastering a smile on my face, handing them menus, and reciting the rehearsed spiel that I say to everyone who comes through the doors.
“We
lcome to Cindy’s. You have one hour left on our breakfast menu, or you can order from our lunch menu. I recommend the triple-fried hash browns—they’re delicious—and we also have a special on our extra-thick deluxe milkshakes this week. We serve them in adult and kids’ sizes, and soy and almond milk options are available.”
I take their order, then run it to the chef. When I return to the counter, Lucy is already serving another family. The lunch rush hits, and neither of us has a chance to breathe, let alone stop to gossip.
My feet and shoulders start to ache after only an hour. My neat hair starts to frizz, and I’m flipping through my little notepad so quickly that the pages start to fly away. A few minutes later, my pen runs out. Then the milkshake maker breaks.
It’s one of those days, and I rush from table to kitchen, trying to manage each new disaster as it arises. It’s three p.m. before things finally start to slow down.
Lucy and I meet behind the diner to talk. “Phew!” she breathes. “We deserve medals for that rush. One family had me refill their drinks eight times. Like, I know we say ‘free refills,’ but are you leaking or something? They were downing sodas like they were dying of thirst. The sugar.” She shudders. “Plus, they had desserts all around. Those kids are going to crash hard when they come down from that sugar high.”
I laugh. “Me, too. One little old lady sent back her tea for being hot. I didn’t really know what she wanted me to do about it. I took it to the kitchen and brought it out five minutes later when it had cooled down. She left me six dollars on a twelve-dollar tab, so I can’t complain.”
Lucy shakes her head slowly, her purple pigtails swinging. “It should be a law that everyone has to do their time in the service industry.” She lets out a long yawn as she stretches her arms out above her head. “We’re the foundation of America.”
She relaxes again and jumps up onto the lid of the dumpster, swinging her legs against the plastic. She slaps her hands down on her knees pointedly. “Anyway,” she says, “you were going to tell me what’s on your mind. I could tell your head was running the second you walked in. All that studying getting you down?”
I lean back casually against the wall and fold my arms across my chest. “Actually, it’s a guy.”
“What!” Lucy claps her hands in delight. “I thought you said you were going to steer clear of men. I clearly remember you saying they were a distraction.”
“And they are!” I chuckle. “I wasn’t intending to meet anyone, but this guy is—” I let out a long breath and hold up my hands helplessly, “—something else.”
“Who is he?”
“Would you believe me if I said the son of the Duke of Cambridge? His name is Henry.”
“British?” Lucy puts on a fake British accent, straightening up and pretending to slip her thumbs under an imaginary pair of suspenders. “I’m Henry, son of the Duke of Cambridge. I didn’t think those Harvard boys were your type. I can only imagine a British academic is even worse.”
I laugh. “He’s actually kind of sweet. He took me dancing.”
“Like ballroom dancing?”
“To a club.”
“Wow! Go Mr. Darcy. Was it fun?”
“It was.” I bite down on my lip, smiling at the memory. “There’s something about him that makes me act like I’m a teenager. I was dancing all night, and then—”
“And then?” She leans forward so far that I think she’s going to fall off the dumpster.
“I went back to his place.” I shrug casually. “It was nice.”
“Nice? You had sex with some British nobleman, and it was nice?”
“It was freaking hot. He’s sexy as hell, Luce.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I said I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, and I meant it. I’ve got so much on my plate right now, I really don’t need any more complications. Besides, Henry’s some natural genius. He doesn’t even have to try, and he shines in the classroom. Plus, his family is loaded. He’s got too much free time on his hands, kind of a big ego, and I know he’s trouble.”
“You think he’s only looking for a good time?”
“Maybe.” I shrug uncertainly. “Then again, he was really sweet the other day. He saw me arguing with Connor and swept in like some knight in shining armor.”
Lucy’s expression grows sympathetic. I’ve confided in her about Connor; in the short time I’ve known her, she’s already been a shoulder to cry on more than once. “I don’t think it would be a bad thing to have a man looking out for you. I know Connor’s your brother, but you don’t know what he might be capable of if he’s high.”
I frown. “I’m not looking for a bodyguard. The last thing I want is for my home life and love life to overlap. Henry’s old money; he’s been raised with wealth and refinement. I don’t want him looking into what my life’s like behind closed doors. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“But if you really want to grow close to someone, you need to let them in,” Lucy advises. “You know, I felt the same when I first started dating after Jack was born. I didn’t think that anyone would have any respect for me if I told them about my kid or had to explain that the father was a one-night stand whose name I can’t remember. I’d go on one date, two dates, three, without bringing it up. Then, when I had to come clean, it didn’t always work out. I’d get my heart broken when guys I liked didn’t want to deal with that baggage. Show your cards early, and you’ll filter out the guys who can’t deal.”
“Henry knows that Connor has his issues,” I tell her. “I mean, I didn’t go into detail about it, but it’s not a secret.”
“And he didn’t run?”
“No. He wants to see me again.”
“That’s great! What’s wrong with that?”
“We’re too different.” I tilt my head back and look up at the overcast sky. It’s humid and feels like rain is coming. I let my head drop back down, then look back to Lucy. “I guess I don’t want to be the girl he slums it with.”
“Do you think he’s that type of guy?”
I pause for a second and think. I picture Henry stepping in between Connor and me without raising his voice or causing a scene. I remember how he offered to walk me home after we went dancing. Even when he gave me his college sweater this morning, it was a little sign that he cared. “No,” I say. “I don’t think he is.”
“I know how hard it is looking out for Connor,” Lucy says gently, “but you can’t put your own life on hold indefinitely. Trust me, I understand. Jack’s my world; I didn’t want to leave him alone for a second, but I also don’t want to be on my own. Maybe if you’re not looking over Connor’s shoulder all the time, he’ll screw up—but if you give up everything that might make you happy so you can stop him from making mistakes, you’ll never be happy.”
She hops down from the dumpster and places her hand on my shoulder kindly. “You’ve done an incredible job looking after him. Taking him in after your mother died and sacrificing all you have. I’m in awe of you, Lissy. But, he’s not a kid anymore. At some point, he needs to take responsibility for his own actions, and if those actions have consequences, that won’t be on you.”
“I know, but it doesn’t feel that easy. I’m all he’s got in this world. If I give up on him, who’s he got left?” I glance at my watch, “Hmm. We better get back. Forty-five minutes until freedom.”
We head back inside. As I step onto the diner floor, I gasp and pull Lucy with me into the kitchen, out of sight of the diners.
“What’s wrong?”
I point across the diner to where Henry and another man I’ve never met before are entering and taking a seat at a window booth.
“That’s him!”
“Mr. Darcy?”
“Henry.”
Lucy cranes her neck to follow my gaze, then her eyes light up. “Oh, my god, he’s gorgeous. You want to serve him?”
I shake my head quickly. “No. I don’t want him to know I work here.”<
br />
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want the first time he sees me since we had sex to be in an apron, serving eggs.”
Lucy smiles knowingly. “That tells me you’re more interested than you’re letting on.” She pats my shoulder as she passes to take his table. “I’ll switch sections with you. But take my advice—if it were me, I’d want to see where it goes.”
The next three-quarters of an hour are torturous. I know there’s no way that Henry doesn’t see me serving tables, but I pointedly stare in other directions at all times and pretend I haven’t spotted him. I want him to think of me as the sexy girl in the purple dress—not the college waitress.
Why are you hiding from him, Lissy? Lucy’s right—you should lay your cards on the table.
I lift my eyes to find Henry staring straight at me. I feel like I’ve been caught in a dirty secret—having to pay my own way through college. My cheeks flush to see him looking at me, even though there is no judgment in his eyes.
I offer Henry a small smile of recognition and a little shrug as if to say, “It is what it is.”
He smiles back. I see him rise to stand. Worried he’ll come over to me and make things more awkward than they are, I quickly grab the nearest empty plate and hide in the kitchen until the last few minutes of my shift have ticked by.
Henry
Ryan spins around in his seat, and I snap my fingers to make him turn back around. “Don’t look!”
“That’s her? With the glasses?”
“Yes.”
“She’s hot. Why is she hiding from you?”
I frown. “I don’t know.”
“I do.” Ryan digs into his pancakes. His own eyes wander over to the waitress with the purple hair who served us, then snap back to me. He points a fork wisely in my direction. “She’s embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a trust fund baby, and she’s working her way through college.” He rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Henry. You really need to get some perspective. That one was easy.”
