by Sam Mariano
All I can think to say is, “I’ll still always take care of you, you know.”
Rafe looks over at me and our eyes lock. “Yeah?”
I nod solemnly. “Even if they make me queen.”
He cracks a smile, but it’s a bittersweet one. He reaches a hand out and caresses the side of my face, even though we’re in the restaurant and anyone could see. Even though the water is muddy enough, and the last thing either of us needs is more stomping.
As hard as I’m trying to be mature and strong and weather this break-up like a pro, his hand on my face is too much, too soon, and I feel tears welling up. I already miss this.
“I hate making you cry,” he says quietly.
Dammit, that just makes me want to cry more. I force a smile instead, even if it’s a watery one. “I’m not crying.”
I no more than get that out, and a stupid, rebellious tear slips out of the corner of my eye and slides down my cheek. Since Rafe’s hand is right there, he sees it. He catches it on the pad of his thumb and brushes away the trail it left.
“I won’t make you cry anymore, I promise.”
Then he drops his hand, and I know he means well, but it makes me feel worse.
Maybe I should have stayed mad. This was so much easier when I was mad at him.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” Glancing at his menu to let him know I’m ready to stop talking about this, I ask, “In the mood for anything in particular tonight?”
Rafe shakes his head, pushing the menu forward and leaning back in his seat. “Surprise me.”
I collect the menu, hug it against my chest, and offer him a smile as I slide out of the booth. “All right.”
I can’t sleep.
As sexy as it is to have his scent on my sheets right now, it’s impossible to keep from reliving those memories with such a strong trigger present. I suppose I could stop rolling over and breathing in the scent, but no one can accuse me of making consistently good decisions. I didn’t wear my bracelet at all today, I faced Rafe at dinner, I even stood up to him for firing a bartender out of blatant jealousy; I’ve made enough responsible choices for one day.
I deserve a night of wallowing, dammit.
I deserve a night of lying awake, surrounded by the scent of him, memories of his fingertips moving over my skin, his hand smacking my ass, his cock invading my body…
Dammit. I twist myself up in my covers, tossing restlessly. This is just making the heartache worse. I need to back up and start over. I need to do everything I can to ignore memories of Rafe in this bed.
Maybe I should sleep on the couch.
No, I don’t have the self-control to do that. I’ll stay here and be miserable. At least my misery smells like Rafe.
Sighing, I look up at the ceiling and wonder what time it is. I roll over and reach for my phone, lighting it up and seeing that it is 4:13am. God, I need to fall asleep.
I put the phone down and roll over, but when I do, my heart nearly stops. The dark silhouette of a man registers and adrenaline surges through my body. It’s not Rafe. I know Rafe’s shape by heart, and this isn’t it.
I try to roll out of bed, mentally searching the room for something to defend myself with. I need to grab my phone and hit him with something so I can get out of my bedroom. If I can get to the kitchen, I can get to my gun. I can call for help—probably Rafe, because he has guys who can clean up the mess. I’m pretty sure I can pull the trigger, but cleaning up a bloody corpse is going to be a hard no.
I don’t have a real weapon in my bedroom, but I do have a fairly heavy jewelry box on my dresser. If I can get it and get behind the intruder, I can crack him over the head. That should buy me enough time to get to the kitchen.
I spring out of bed and lunge for the jewelry box, but before I can grab it, strong arms lock around me and I catch a familiar scent. Not Rafe.
Sin?
“Put that fucking thing down,” he barks.
Instantly relieved, I sigh and sink against his chest. “Oh, my God, Sin. You scared the living fuck out of me.”
“Why?”
I put the jewelry box down and turn around in his arms, staring up at him in the moonlight. “What do you mean, why? A dark stranger shows up in my bedroom the same night Rafe gives me $35,000, what am I supposed to be, chill? I need that money out of my house. It’s taking years off my life. I’m obsessively worried someone is going to rob me now.”
Sin scowls, dropping his arms now that I know it’s him, and I’m not struggling. “Why did he give you $35,000?”
“For wasting my time.”
At that, Sin shrugs. “All right, that’s fair.”
“Next time you want to break into my house, don’t. I could have killed you,” I tell him.
Scoffing at the thought, he says, “Yeah, okay.”
Lifting my eyebrows, I demand, “Why are you sneaking into my house in the middle of the night?”
Sin glances at my bed, then back at me. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Law school.”
I take a beat and a breath before responding. His jaw is locked, his eyes hard. But Sin knows I went to law school. Or, he knew I was in law school. I don’t think Sin knows how long law school takes, so I’m not sure he knows I finished a while back. I did tell Laurel before they got together, but I doubt my level of education comes up in casual conversation. Either way, I’m not sure what he’s looking for here.
“What about law school?” I inquire.
“You graduated. Passed the bar a year ago. You didn’t mention that.”
“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” I offer, shrugging. “I didn’t do anything with it.”
“Why?”
Sighing, I look down at the ground, then back up at him. “You know why, Sin. I wanted to stay near Rafe. If I quit the restaurant, when would I ever see him?”
Sin nods, like that’s about what he expected. His posture relaxes, too. “That’s what I figured. I just had to make sure. I thought you were still in law school, I thought you worked at the restaurant to pay for it. Then the other night I heard you and Rafe yelling at each other and I figured I might want to look again. Turns out, you’re done, and still hanging around. Figured I should ask why.”
I nod my understanding. “Nothing has changed, Sin. Same old loyal Virginia. My brain is just too big, and I have to do something to stimulate it while I pursue my passion of waiting tables. Maybe I’ll attack med school next.”
Sin rolls his eyes at me. “You girls and your fucking nerd problems.”
I crack a smile. “I’m gonna have more than nerd problems if your wife smells me on your shirt when you get home, so do us both a favor and take a shower before you climb back in bed.”
“I sleep naked anyway,” he tells me.
My face heats up, so I’m glad it’s dark. “Well, thank you for that mental image.”
Since his job is done and he’s not much for solo social visits, Sin turns and makes his way out of my bedroom. “Anytime.”
Part
Two
24
Virginia
Sidling up to the bar, I tick off fingers as I tell Felix, “I need a gin and tonic, a Long Island, two vodka cranberries, and a tequila sunrise.”
Rearing back in playful confusion, he says, “Holy shit, you’re going to let me help you?”
I flash him a smile as I move around the bar and grab the only drink that matters. “Rafe’s here.” He knows I can’t be bothered with making other drinks when Rafe is waiting.
He still doesn’t like Rafe, so he rolls his eyes. “Oh, His Majesty is here? Should’ve told me, I could’ve called in the Master of Ceremonies to announce him.”
“Be nice,” I murmur, side-eying him.
“Guy’s a dick.”
I sigh, finish fixing Rafe’s drink, and walk away without responding.
In the months that have passed since that one awkward time Rafe fire
d him for no reason, I brought my favorite bartender back with a heartfelt apology. I even started cross-training him on the floor so he could pick up extra shifts, but Felix holds a grudge, apparently.
I’m feeling light and breezy on my way to Rafe’s table. It’s been a busy day, and I’m happy to see him. I know his family is coming in soon for Skylar’s big first birthday party, so I wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing as much of him this week.
When I saw Rafe walk in and flash me a smile, I immediately went to get his drink. I know his routine. Unless it’s Sunday and he’s here with Sin, Laurel and the kids, he comes in alone, so there’s no longer a need to go to his table first.
Maybe that’s why it seems like a boulder drops into my gut, like there are sandbags weighing down my legs, when I realize Rafe is not at the table alone tonight. I can see him sitting there with his arm stretched around the booth like he used to, and tonight…
Tonight there is a woman with long blond hair in the booth beside him.
My hand trembles around the glass and I struggle to draw a breath into my lungs. This is bad. I convinced myself I was over the romantic part of our relationship, and it was largely untested, because presumably out of respect for me, Rafe stopped bringing dates for me to serve.
But now…
There’s so much affection on his face looking at her. Oh, my God, is he dating someone? Maybe he hasn’t been bringing hook-ups in, but he has started dating someone for real, and nobody else wanted to break it to me. Maybe tonight he is bringing her here because it’s for real, and she’s here to stay, so it’s time for me to meet her.
I want to die.
I guess I should see what she wants to drink first.
Forcing my feet to move me forward, I make an effort to summon a smile to my face. I can do this. This is fine. I want Rafe to be happy. I don’t want him to be lonely. The way he’s looking at tonight’s booth girl, especially when he knows I might see… well, he must really care for her.
The spiteful floor does not open up and swallow me, so I remind myself how to do this. Usually I don’t have a problem being friendly to the girls, and if this one is here to stay, I certainly don’t want to be rude to her, but I can’t meet her gaze right now. I can’t do it. Keeping my gaze on Rafe, keeping my focus on his happiness, I’m able to muster a more convincing smile.
As soon as I open my mouth, though, I realize I’ve made a mistake. I say something like, “Hi, welcome to—or—Hi. Uh, can I get you a drink?”
Rafe cocks his head, regarding me with concern. “Did you just have a stroke?”
My heart is beating so hard, it almost hurts. I need to get away from this table. “Drink. Does—I brought you a drink.” I put it down in front of him, clearing my throat. I need to look at her, but I don’t want her face in my brain. I want the floor to open up and swallow her, if it won’t swallow me.
Get your shit together, Virginia.
I force my gaze up, keeping my smile in place. “And for you? Can I get you something to drink?”
God, she is beautiful. Blonde hair, blue eyes, her breasts are just—I can’t even focus on that right now. I shake it off and wait for her to peruse the drink menu.
I can’t stand here another minute, so she better hurry.
“I think I’ll just have ice water with lemon, if that’s okay.”
It’s a restaurant, Barbie, you can order whatever the fuck you want.
That is so unkind. I apologize to Rafe’s future wife in my mind, but I want to stab her, so I need to go. “Perfect,” I say, turning and sailing away before I do anything I’ll regret.
I make it to the bar, but barely. Felix filled my serving tray with all the drinks I asked him to make me, but I can’t deliver them right now. My body feels physically winded, like I just got the breath punched out of me, and I am so disappointed in myself. Even though the day never came, I figured it would, so I tried to mentally prepare myself for this. In my mind when Rafe brought a woman in again, I nailed it. Kept a smile on my face, managed to be polite, impressed her with my killer waitressing skills, even.
Turns out I just want to stab her.
This is not good.
I don’t know what to do.
With a concerned frown on his face, Felix walks over to check on me. “You okay?”
I look up at him, a little foggy, but before I can reconsider, I make the one request that makes me feel like I can breathe again. “Can you take Rafe’s table tonight?”
Shock registers on his face, then he must realize the only reason I would ask that, and sympathy slides into its place. He sighs, but nods his head. “Of course.”
I nod, not looking at him. “Thank you. Um, she needs—they need a water with lemon. I already brought him his drink, but… yeah.”
After my lame finish, I lift the tray of drinks and head to the other side of the restaurant to deliver those drinks and take their order.
I’m hiding out in the kitchen as much as possible. I haven’t so much as glanced in the direction of Rafe’s table again, too afraid of what I’ll see. Just his arm around the back of his booth brought back memories, and if I have to see him snuggling her close, I know which memory I will be reliving all night long.
I don’t know what to do.
I can’t work here anymore. I’ve filled my own head with these fantasies of how I might be able to keep working for him, how we could both live paused lives until we die so as not to hurt each other, but it’s bullshit. Eventually he had to get tired of being alone. I didn’t even know for sure whether or not he was alone. Maybe he still entertains booth girls, he just does it elsewhere so I don’t have to see it. I’ve wondered about it before, naturally, but I let myself be romantic. I let myself imagine maybe he didn’t need those girls anymore, because even though we couldn’t be together, he kept me in his heart the way I keep him in mine.
I lied to myself. I set myself up for this disappointment. This is my fault. Rafe never once promised to live out the rest of his days alone. He warned me—right before fucking me for the last time—that he would eventually bring them in. The day I confronted him about Felix, he even said once he started bringing women in again, I was free to see other men.
A moving on pact. I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way, but that’s what it was. Once I’ve moved on, so can you. He just needed to be first.
I guess he’s finally over me.
I’m standing here half-heartedly making a salad when I feel his presence. I’m a few seconds late; he’s already behind me. There are other people in the kitchen, but they’re all busy and he doesn’t seem to care. He leans in until I feel his breath on my skin, moves aside my dark pony tail, and says, “I can’t believe you pawned me off on Felix.”
“I didn’t pawn you off,” I say, a pointless a lie. “I just—I’m swamped tonight. I have a lot of tables.” Another pointless lie. I would let everyone in this restaurant starve so I could serve Rafe.
“Mm hmm.” His tone is unconvinced—shocking, since I told such solid lies!—and his gaze drops to the salad I’m preparing. “You are putting a lot of tomatoes on that salad.”
I look down, realizing my hands are moving without instruction from my poor, fried brain. It’s basically a bowl of tomatoes. Dammit. I sigh and start putting some back.
“You’re distracting me,” I accuse. “You need to let me work before I fuck up the whole order.”
“Fine. But Felix isn’t serving me. I come here so you can serve me.”
Normally I would care more that he’s admitting that, but now I finish picking the extra tomatoes off my salad, put it on my tray, and lift it in the air. “I’m busy.”
“You know, if Felix fucks up our orders, I’m gonna have to fire him,” he tells me, slickly.
That he dared use the word “our” makes me want to stab him in the face.
I grit my teeth and turn back to look at him. This miserable bastard—there’s mild amusement on his face. He should at least be sorry that he’s…<
br />
That he’s what, moving on? I guess maybe he shouldn’t be sorry, but the part of my heart that’s still hurting can’t help wondering, what does she have that I don’t? Obvious physical attractiveness aside, why is he willing to take a chance on a real relationship with her, but not me?
Fine. He wants me to serve him. He wants me to carve my heart out and serve it up for him and his dinner date to enjoy? I will. But it will be the last time.
Tonight I will serve this bastard and his date, and tomorrow I will put in my two week notice.
Nodding shortly, I tell him, “Fine. I’ll serve you.”
“Good,” he says simply. “I’ll see you back at the table.”
I walk away muttering, but I have to paste on a smile to take care of my other guests.
Since Rafe has made his demands, I go straight from that table to his. On my way, I draw out my orderpad and pen. I don’t need them, but it’ll give me something to do. I don’t want to memorize every curve of this woman’s body, and I will if I don’t have something else to look at.
I imagine this is what it feels like to walk up to Hell’s gates, but I tell myself I can get through it. Just one more night. I can’t believe I went from having such a great day, feeling like life was good, to this. I guess that’s what you get when you live in a house of cards. One bastard blowing on it can knock it all down.
My next house needs to be built with sturdy building materials. No more houses of cards for me. Nope, nope, nope. On a larger scale, this is a good thing. Rafe has done me a favor, because now I finally have a reason to let him go.
I halt in front of the table, pen poised over paper, and open my mouth to ask what they’d like—but not a single word comes out. The table I walked away from had two people seated there—Rafe and the pretty blonde he brought in to torture me with.
