“Just because I didn’t have to doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t have. No one has ever had that kind of emotional reaction in my class before.”
I cough out a humorless laugh as I rub tears from my eyes and my cheeks. “Sorry about that. I can’t really explain it. All I can say is—I’m having a difficult week.”
“I’m a great listener if you feel like lightening the load you seem to be carrying.”
A small smile pulls at my lips and I will myself to look at him once more. For some reason, probably because he just abandoned his other pupils to comfort the crazy girl who had an emotional break-down in the middle of yoga, I believe that he truly is a good listener. Even if that is true, he’s also a stranger and I don’t feel up to sharing my complicated situation with him. “You’re surprisingly kind,” I say bluntly. “And I appreciate the offer, but no thank you.”
“Fair enough,” he replies, clapping his hands against his knees. “Well, I’m here Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday at nine a.m. every week. You’re welcome to cry in my yoga class any time you want.” He stands and turns to head back inside.
“Hey,” I call out as I rise to my feet. “Thanks again.”
He smiles at me and then circles his finger around his head, like I did just a few minutes before. “You have a very attractive face, too.”
I barely have time to blink before he’s walking into the studio. Something tells me that his compliment wasn't a line but just a kind word to lift my spirits. Or maybe I'm just so mentally exhausted that I can't tell the difference.
I leave for home right away. I don’t have to be to work until much later, but I’m now thinking that I could use some time with my new journal. I also think today is a good day to start on my summer reading list. During the school year, I don’t have much time to read for pleasure; so for months I compile a list of books and buy them when I can. When summer comes around, I’m usually pretty well stocked. I know that AJ wants me to get out of the apartment, but I think my yoga class and my shift at work will have to do for the day. Besides, Sarah should be around and she’s living—that counts, if you ask me.
Me: Just got home from yoga. I cried in the middle of class :( So embarrassing. But possibly made a new friend?…details later.
I shoot Avery the the text as I head up to the apartment. When I walk in, Sarah’s in the kitchen wrapped in a towel eating a bowl of cereal. When she doesn’t have class or church, she’s as bad as Jackson in terms of sleeping through the morning. Actually, she’s probably worse. Jackson only sleeps that much on weekends. When football training starts, he’ll be up and out almost as early as Ave.
“Hey,” she greets me with her mouth full. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s watching my every move, trying to assess the status of my mood. “You went out,” she says after she swallows.
“Yeah,” I reply, pointing at my mat. “Yoga.”
“That’s great. How are yo—I mean, how was it?”
It doesn’t escape me how she rephrased her question and I realize that Avery must have told her about the dreaded inquiry that I’ve banned for the time being. I understand that everyone is walking on egg shells around me right now, but I don’t have it in me to feel bad about it. I’m actually feeling very grateful. I’ll have to think of a way to make it up to them later.
I groan when I think back a half an hour and Sarah lifts both of her perfectly plucked blonde eyebrows, silently asking for details. I discard all of my things into the armchair in the living room before I make my way to the breakfast bar and sit in a stool. I fill her in on the happenings of my morning. It actually feels really good to talk to her about something that’s not directly related to Beckham.
“Mr. Yoga sounds nice. Are you going to go back?”
“Yeah. I think so,” I say with a shrug.”I mean, I did enjoy the session and it seems like it would be rude to not go back. He was so kind, you know?”
“I don’t think he would be offended if you didn’t come back. In fact, he might expect it,” she says, loading her empty bowl in the dishwasher. “But I support your decision to keep going. I think the routine would be really good for you.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I know I’m right,” she teases with a grin and a wink. “Anyway—I’ve got a few things I have to get done today. Interested in tagging along while I run some errands?”
“No, thanks. I think I want to stick around here until work.”
“Okay. Well—we’re on the same shift tonight.” I smile at the news. Having to go back to work will be a little easier with my best friend there. “Do you want to ride together?”
“Yeah. That sounds great.”
“Perfect.” She makes her way toward me and plants a kiss on top of my head. “I’m proud of you for getting out this morning.”
I think I might share the feeling.
The pub is pretty big and divided into two sections—the bar and the dining area. It’s almost like two different worlds. The dining area is filled with low tables which are usually occupied by families or groups of people who wish to simply come and enjoy the food that Cooper’s boasts about. The bar area is a bit bigger than the dining room. There are booths that line the walls and hightop tables with bar stools scattered between pool tables and foosball tables. Since the pub sits on a street corner, there are big windows that allow natural light to pour into the room and there’s a nice view of the heart of downtown Fort Collins. The bar is set up against the back wall—it’s long with an impressive tap line and more than enough room for two bartenders. Henry always has two people back there during the night shift. That’s something I really love about Henry—he’s predictable.
He always schedules a particular amount of people to work in each section of the restaurant depending on the time of day. Furthermore, if he likes you in a particular section, you’re pretty much married to it. My first year at Cooper’s I worked the dining room. One night, I had to cover for someone in the bar—I’ve been stuck in that section ever since. I love it, though; it’s usually busy and even if it’s not, the atmosphere is different—it’s more fun and the staff is more playful, feeding off the energy of the patrons who come to drink, play games, and eat pizza.
As soon as Sarah and I walk in, I’m assaulted with the memory of the last time I was here. It was less than a week ago. Beck, Ave, and I came in for lunch. Just thinking about it brings my mood down. I wonder if he was thinking about our breakup while we ate; or when we were playing foosball—me and Ave against him.
“Addie.” I’m pulled from my thoughts at the sound of my name on Henry’s lips. He’s a big guy, rotund with a serious face and a demanding presence. He’s also got a booming voice and would be quite intimidating to someone who didn’t know him. On the inside, though, he’s like a teddy bear. “Welcome back,” he says gruffly with a scowl. I offer him a small smile, genuinely glad to see him. He doesn’t return my smile, but he doesn’t have to—I can see it in his eyes, where he does most of his talking, that he’s glad to see me, too. “How are you—?”
“Oh, Henry—” Sarah cuts him off enthusiastically. “Is Roman here? Addie hasn’t met him yet.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a knowing smirk before he answers; I’m completely clueless as to the meaning behind his expression. “Yeah. Clocked in a few minutes ago. He’s at the bar,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I take it I can leave introductions to you?”
“Yes, sir,” she says playfully, wrapping her arm around my shoulders as we prepare to head further into the pub. I don’t miss the eye roll Henry gives her. He hates being called “sir,” and she knows it; but he also likes it when Sarah is in a flirty mood, so he says nothing. Dirty old man.We wouldn't have him any other way.
We pass the hostess station and then turn left into the bar. It’s four o’clock, so it’s kind of slow, and I spot Marla straightening up table toppers. She’s about the same height as Sarah but curvier and softer around the edges
. Her shoulder length hair is bottle blonde, her natural brunette roots tell her secret. She’s older—in her mid thirties—and pretty, but she hides her God given beauty under too much makeup. She’s sweet, though, and she calls everyone honey, which I think makes her charming.
She’s been working at Cooper’s for, like, ever. At first, I wondered if there was some kind of story behind her reasoning, but there isn’t really. She’s simply a people person and she likes that she works at a pub in a college town where there are always people coming and going. Plus, it’s where she met her husband—Eric. He’s the bar manager. He’s built like a gym teacher, strong but not as fit as the college guys who frequent the place. He’s just on the other side of forty with a receding hairline that no one is to acknowledge; and what hair he lacks on the top of his head, he makes up for it on his face with the low trimmed beard he keeps all year long. He swears a lot, he has a habit of yelling at the big screens whenever his sports team is playing, and he’s a pretty no-nonsense guy. But what I like about him the most is the way he’s protective over all of us girls. We never have to worry about dealing with drunk guys who get too familiar; he’s like our own personal bouncer.
“Hey there,” greets Marla when we’re in ear shot. Sarah steers us in her direction and she stops what she’s doing to chat with us. “Addie, honey, it’s good to see you back.”
“Thanks,” I say with a small smile. “And thanks, again, for covering for me the other day.”
“Of course. Us girls have to stick together, right? And when I see that Beckham—” I gasp at the sound of his name and my chest grows tight with my longing for him. My eyes sting, too, but I somehow manage to keep the tears away. I never told her why I needed the time off. Sarah must have filled her in. I don’t mind but I also don’t want to talk about it. She notices my reaction and stops immediately. “Well, never mind him. We’re going to have ourselves a good night.”
I force a smile and a nod.
“I was going to go introduce her to Roman,” pipes in Sarah.
“Good idea. That’d cheer anybody up,” she says with a grin and a giggle. “He’s with Eric. I’ve got to go check on my tables.”
I’m really starting to wonder about this Roman guy. He seems to be pretty popular, given that he’s only been working here for a couple of weeks. Although, I guess that’s a good thing and it speaks highly of him.
When we reach the bar, Eric and the guy I’m guessing is Roman have their backs to us. Eric’s giving him instructions, but that doesn’t stop Sarah from interrupting. “Hey guys. Look who’s back!” She announces my presence as if I’ve been gone for months instead of days. I open my mouth to make a comment to that effect, but then Roman turns around. We lock eyes instantly and I suddenly have no words. I stand up straighter, stiffening under Sarah’s arm. She notices and looks down at me. She then follows my eyes to Roman, who is wearing the same kind and attractive smile he was wearing this morning. “Sooo—why do I get the feeling you two have met before?” she asks.
“Because we have,” he answers, his smile stretching wider.
I feel a blush crawl its way into my cheeks, which annoys me. That’s such an Avery trait and totally uncharacteristic of me. Why on earth am I blushing now? I didn’t blush this morning. Geez—I was not prepared for this.
“When?” asks Sarah, pulling me from my thoughts as she looks back down at me.
“This morning,” I murmur, my eyes studying Roman. I can’t tell what he’s thinking and it makes me feel a bit self-conscious.
“What?” Sarah cries, pulling her arm from around me so she can press her fists against her hips. “He’s Mr. Yoga?”
I cringe, pulling my eyes away from Roman to glare at Sarah. Really? Did she really have to say that out loud?
“Mr. Yoga?” asks Roman with a chuckle.
“I didn’t—I didn’t catch your name. Um. Earlier,” I stammer, running my fingers through my hair.
“Fair enough, Miss Yoga. I didn’t catch yours, either.”
“That’s Addie,” says Eric, joining the conversation. “Glad you’re feeling better. You two better clock in; Marla’s about due for a break and the dinner crowd won’t be long behind her.”
“Sure thing,” I reply, feeling relieved for an excuse to make my exit.
“Addie,” Roman calls my name as I turn. I pause and look back at him. “It’s nice to meet you—officially.” My embarrassment decreases as I remember his kindness. It’s obvious he’s not judging me now any more than he did this morning and I have no reason to be self-conscious. Well…maybe a little self-conscious; but not enough to be rude.
“You too, Roman,” I say before Sarah and I make our exit.
“Oh, my gosh,” Sarah gushes in a mock whisper. “I can’t believe Prince of Troy is Mr. Yoga!”
“Small world, right? Should I be embarrassed?” I ask, needing a little reassurance.
“What? No! He’s a nice guy,” she insists. “He proved that much to you this morning; plus, he’s got that good guy vibe, you know? I’ve definitely picked that up over the past couple days. Besides, you said you were going to go back to his class, so you were going to see him again anyway. No—you have no reason to be embarrassed.”
I take a deep breath and puff out a sigh. “You’re right. Thanks.”
It’s nice being back at work and I welcome the distraction. It isn’t long before business picks up. It’s not crazy busy, but it’s not dead either; there’s just enough to do to keep me occupied. My trips to the bar are frequent and every time I speak with Roman, I feel a little more comfortable around him. He doesn’t mention my tears from this morning, obviously remembering that I didn’t want to talk about it then and correctly assuming that I don’t want to talk about it now. Sarah was right—he does give off that good guy vibe. I think back to the text I sent Avery earlier and realize that maybe I was right. Maybe I do have a new friend. Or at least a new could-be friend.
The dinner rush is all but forgotten by eight o’clock, which is when Marla heads out; but the night crowd starts trickling in after nine. I’m off at eleven and I’m hoping the next couple of hours go by fast because I’m starting to feel tired.
“Hey,” Sarah catches my attention as I close out a ticket at the register just beside the bar. “You’ve got someone at table six. And, boy, is he a looker,” she says with a wink before taking her tray back to the kitchen. I shake my head at her as she goes and then make my way back out on the floor. The loner at table six has his back to me, but I can see that he’s tall with a head full of disheveled auburn hair. It’s kind of unfair how guys can look so good with what appears to be bed-head. My bed-head is atrocious.
“Hey, welcome to Cooper’s,” I say in greeting as I make my way around his table. “I’m—” I gasp loudly and my jaw drops as I stare at him. “Grayson?!”
“Hey, Addie,” he says with a laugh.
“Oh, my—your—hair,” I stutter, still in shock that his long waves are now cut much shorter.
“Yeah, weird, right?” he says, reaching up to run his fingers through it.
“No! Good. Really good.” I can’t help but laugh at myself. I sound like a caveman. “I like it. A lot! What made you decide to cut it?”
He shrugs, but the smile that lingers on his lips says something different. “I just thought it was about time I cleaned up a little bit.”
“Well, it looks great. Has Avery seen it?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, averting his eyes from mine as if he’s embarrassed. “I think she liked it.”
“Hey, Addie.” Jackson walks up from behind me and offers me a one-arm-hug before he sits across from Grayson.
“Hi, Jack.” For a moment, I bask in the fact that I’m happy to see them. I mean, it’s not so much that I’m surprised—they are my friends, after all—it’s just that I’m suddenly reminded that they’re important to me. Avery was absolutely right when she said that I’m not myself without my friends. I’m not a loner. None of us are, which is w
hy we do so many things together.
Together.
It dawns on me that if Jack is here and Gray is here then there’s a chance that—
“Hey.” He speaks softly, but the sound of his voice is like a warm blanket being wrapped around me. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I turn to face him and it takes every fiber of my being to keep myself from falling apart. I want to hug him. I want to kiss him. I want to feel his arms around me. Knowing that none of those things will happen, I want to cry. I want to eat a chocolate brownie. I want to be anywhere but right here.
At the same time—oh, I’ve missed his face.
God—how in the world do You expect me to handle this?
My heart and my brain simultaneously alert me to the fact that my last thought was my first prayer in two days. I haven’t really felt like talking to God lately. I know that I should. I know that Beckham probably is—but that’s part of the reason why I don’t want to. I believed him when he said he had prayed about this decision. I believed him when he said that he felt right about our breakup. I have to believe him because it’s the only way that any of this makes any sense. And because I believe him, that means that God had something to do with our breakup.
As stupid and childish and unreasonable as it may be to ignore the Creator of the universe, who is not only omnipresent but also omniscient, I’m doing it anyway.
“Addie?” Beckham speaks, once more.
I smack my palm against my forehead in an attempt to scatter my thoughts. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay? I didn’t know you were working. Should I leave? I can go.”
My eyes shoot up to look into his. I want to drown in those pools of blue. I shake my head, answering his question and clearing my mind at the same time. “No. No—please. Stay. I’m okay. I’m fine. What can I get you guys to drink?”
Beck and Jack each order a beer. I don’t card them because I know exactly when their birthdays are and I know they’ve both been legal for months now. Gray orders a Sprite. As soon as I have their orders, I head back to the bar. Every step I take away from their table, I lose a little bit more of my composure. When I reach my destination, my eyes are stinging and my breaths are coming in short spurts.
The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) Page 12
