That was enough to snap me out of it.
I yanked my arm away and went back to work. Well, I pretended to. It was near the end of the lunch rush, which meant fewer orders to occupy my time. My area had already been cleaned in anticipation of the switch from lunch to dinner service. Needless to say, I wasn’t very convincing at acting busy. That might have also had something to do with my inability to pay attention to anything when he’d sidled up next to me.
Michael moved closer, halfway standing behind me with his head looming over my left shoulder. It was all too familiar. Yet this time, I didn’t melt into him like butter on toasted bread. My body reacted on its own, and I became rigid, uncomfortable. The moisture of his breath grazed my neck, and I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I felt the faintest caress low on my back, as if he had to fight against touching me.
I pulled in a deep breath to steady my nerves. Unfortunately, that meant I got a whiff of his cologne—the same kind he’d always worn—and it did nothing but remind me of the nights spent lying next to him, taking in the spicy yet soothing scent of the man I loved.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you.” Within the dips of his deep rasp, I picked up on a hint of hesitation.
Without waiting for any response other than a surprised gasp, he took a step back. When I cut my eyes to peek at him, I noticed the way he fidgeted with his tie—a sign of his own nervousness.
God, I knew him too well.
And I couldn’t say that was a good thing.
He glanced around the kitchen, and when his gaze landed on me again, he smiled the same way he used to when we shared a secret. I hadn’t seen that smile on him in over six months. And for some ridiculous reason, it kick-started my heart. Butterflies swarmed my belly, and heat licked my cheeks. Before I knew it, my lips had curled to match his, something I hadn’t expected.
“Rebecca said you really like this guy.”
And with that, my unexpected excitement vanished.
I blinked a few times and waited for more. Except he didn’t offer anything else. Not a clue as to how I should respond to that. I said, “Um, yeah. I do.”
He ran his fingers through his thick hair, and I couldn’t help but notice that he had more silver just above his ears on both sides. I’d spent more than two years toying with those short strands amid the dark and pretended they were stars in the night sky that I could make wishes on. And then his slate-colored eyes met mine. They were narrowed, bringing my attention to the crow’s-feet that seemed more apparent now than a year ago, and I found myself wondering if he’d been taking care of himself in my absence.
“Listen . . .” He cleared his throat and moved closer, just enough to be heard without being overheard. “It couldn’t have been easy for you when Rebecca started working here. I think we can both agree that I haven’t made many smart decisions since the beginning of the year, and that was definitely one of them.”
I was on the edge, teetering, my toes touching the line. It sounded like he was about to admit his mistakes—leaving me, dating her, bringing her here. And as wrong as it was, I couldn’t have been more desperate to hear those words come out of his mouth. I’d spent nearly every day since January waiting for some sort of apology or admittance of guilt from him.
“What are you trying to say, Michael?” I prodded, too impatient for his procrastination.
He leaned his hip against the stainless steel counter and bowed his head to look me in my eyes. “I’m sorry about the way everything went down. But I’m glad to see you’ve found someone. Even though it kills me to say this, I hope he treats you well.”
Nothing else was said as he left the kitchen and headed for his office.
It took me a moment to shake free from his surprise admission. As much as I wanted to search the area for eyes cast my way or ears turned in my direction, I couldn’t. Everyone around me knew of my history with Michael—okay, maybe not everyone, considering it seemed Rebecca had been given a variation of the truth—and my stomach knotted at the idea of seeing pity on their faces.
There wasn’t much left to do before the lunch shift ended. The doors had closed, which meant once the orders already in the kitchen had been filled, it was time to leave. While I finished wiping down the burners and prepping the station for the dinner service, I ran through Michael’s words and my interpretation of his tone. I’d assumed jealousy, or at the very least, a hint of it. And for the first time since I’d lied about dating someone, I didn’t regret the lie. I’d wanted nothing more than to get Michael back, to make him see what he’d lost, and if letting him think I’d moved on achieved that, then so be it.
Before I knew it, my shift had ended. Everyone from the front of the house had moved into the kitchen, signaling it was time to clear out. And even though I liked everyone I worked with, I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. Once I knew it was okay to leave, I had my keys in my hand and my body angled toward the exit.
“How come you haven’t told any of us that you met someone?” Everyone loved Carrie, the outspoken and incredibly loud waitress, until they found themselves on her radar.
I glanced around the room, noticing half the staff had heard her and now had their attention on me. “I don’t know . . . maybe I was trying to keep something personal around here. I mean, you all were well versed in my last relationship—including the incredibly awkward and painful breakup.” And who could forget his new girlfriend in the kitchen?
“Which is reason enough to let us all know about Mr. GQ.” She propped her fist on her hip and squinted at me. “We all had your back when that went down, as well as when he started dating that hussy.”
All eyes, including mine, moved to Rebecca. Thank God she wasn’t listening. There was no telling if she knew Carrie well enough to understand the insult hadn’t been directed at her, but rather, at Michael.
“So basically, we deserve to see you bounce back,” Carrie continued, self-righteousness dripping from her voice. “You know, if you rooted for a sports team through the entire season, wouldn’t you want to see them play in the championships?”
“How did you find out about him, anyway? And where did you come up with Mr. GQ? You don’t know what he looks like, Carrie.” The sports comment didn’t even warrant a response.
“Amanda told me.”
“I did not!” Amanda came out of nowhere. Seriously, there might have been a lot of people in the kitchen, but she had not been one of them two seconds ago. This girl had a way of just popping up like a pimple.
“Don’t lie.” Carrie shook her head in feigned disappointment—all she was missing was the tsk and finger wag, and she’d have been my mother. “You and Rebecca were over there talking about it.”
“Yeah. As in I was talking to Rebecca about it. Not you and Rebecca.”
“If you didn’t want anyone to eavesdrop, maybe you should’ve gone somewhere more private.”
“Whoa, hold up.” I slid between the two, arms out as if breaking up a fight. I turned to Amanda and asked, “Why in the Hellmann’s were you and Rebecca discussing my relationship?”
“Oh, was it confidential?” She arched one brow, and all I could think about was shaving it off. I’d love to see her attitude if I did that. “It’s just that you had so much to say about him yesterday.”
She was onto me. Which meant I had to do something quick to drop the subject and hope no one picked it back up. Leaving gave me a fantastic excuse to cut and run. I had the next day off, so I wouldn’t even see half these people until Wednesday, and by then, there was a solid chance all talk of my “boyfriend” would have died down.
“Listen, guys . . . this has been fun. I’d love to stay and chat, but I can’t.” Most people would shut their mouths at this point and leave. Not me. Apparently, I wasn’t in control of the words that came out of my mouth, because I added, “I have plans with Jay.”
I’d almost made it to the door—and by almost, I mean I’d taken two steps—when Amanda piped up. “Where does he w
ork that he’s off so early on a Monday?”
I glared at her while cursing the fact that I couldn’t fire her. “Oh, he’s not off yet. But I have to go home and shower so that when he is done with work, we can spend the entire evening together.”
“Awesome . . . where does he work?” Oddly enough, she seemed interested—then again, she was a good actress.
Instead of fabricating something, I went with the only thing I remembered about the real Jason and what he did for a living. “He works in a landfill.”
“A landfill?” An echo of shock and disbelief came from both Amanda and Carrie. But since Amanda found too much joy in watching me shoot myself in the foot, she handed me a gun by asking, “Doing what?”
I sucked at being put on the spot. “Filling land.”
Genius, Tatum.
At least it made them speechless long enough for me to run out.
Nothing beat coming home to your best friend after a crappy day at work.
Once upon a time, I had said that about Michael—about walking through the front door after a long shift and finding him on the couch or waiting for me in bed. Now, Kelsey filled that role for me; except I never came home to find her in my bed.
Thank God.
“Do I even want to ask what happened today?” Kelsey patted the cushion next to her, waiting until I plopped onto the couch before turning to face me. “I swear, Tater . . . if you tell me he asked Barbie to marry him, I’ll kill him.”
I never had to utter a word for Kelsey to know something was wrong. And ever since January, when she had opened the door to find me in tears with a duffel bag at my feet, she’d never hesitated to blame everything on Michael—rightfully so. The last three and a half weeks had been the worst, though. Once she’d found out about Rebecca, the sky could’ve fallen, and it would’ve been Michael’s fault.
“No. Nothing like that.” It wasn’t until this very second that I realized I couldn’t tell her what had happened today. Well, not all of it. Explaining Michael’s jealousy would mean I’d have to fill her in on the boyfriend I had but didn’t really have. And I couldn’t do that without admitting who that person was. By that point, I’d have to rationalize having the photo of Jason and me on my phone. None of which would turn out well.
I could tell her about everything and just leave Jason out of it completely, saying I’d made the guy up. But that would mean I’d have to lie to my best friend, and that was a rabbit hole I didn’t need to fall down. The last fib had been more than I could handle.
“Then what’d he do?” Nothing would convince her this wasn’t about Michael.
So I didn’t bother trying. “He just got all weird today. Out of the blue . . . for no reason.”
“You’re gonna have to give me more than that, Tater. Weird how?”
I reclined into the couch and stared at the ceiling, knowing if she could see my eyes, she’d pick up on the pieces I left out. “He came up behind me like he used to do when he’d whisper in my ear. And I’m not positive, but I think he went to put his hand on my lower back but caught himself.”
“Did anyone see him do this? Like were you guys around other people?”
“We were in the kitchen, so it wasn’t like he was trying to hide it. Hell, his girlfriend was a few feet away.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded slowly, her gaze cast at the wall as she contemplated something. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long to find out what it was. “What did he say to you? Or did he just come up behind you and walk away? Is it possible he had to squeeze by you or something?”
This was where things could get tricky, since I wasn’t at liberty to disclose that part of the story. Not wanting to lie to her, I settled on partial truth. “I guess he realized he messed up and wanted to apologize.”
“Please don’t tell me he wants to get back together. Because if that’s what you’re about to say, I should add the disclaimer that I can’t be held liable for the words that’ll fly out of my mouth.”
I shook my head, but at least she’d managed to pull a smile from me. “No, only an apology. He admitted that it was insensitive of him to hire Rebecca, and then something about making a lot of poor decisions since we broke up.”
“That’s it?” She pinned me in place with her incredulous stare. “You came in looking like someone had stolen your dog. I’m not trying to discredit what happened or anything, but . . . I guess I expected it to actually be bad.”
One of the things I loved most about Kelsey was her inability to take anything seriously. She was a great listener, and when a situation called for it, she had amazing advice to give. But after a certain point, she’d have to crack a joke to lighten the mood.
Allowing the humor to roll through me, I said, “I’m so sorry I didn’t fulfill your need for drama.” I ran my hands down my face and groaned in exaggerated frustration. “All I’ve wanted was to hear him admit he was sorry and that what he did was wrong. So why was that not as satisfying as I thought it’d be?”
“Because he’s getting laid and you’re not.” When I glared at her, all she could manage was a shrug. “What? I’m not saying it to be mean, Tatum. I’ve been telling you for a while now that you just need to get back out there and you’ll start to feel better.”
“I don’t understand why I have to sleep with someone else in order to feel better.”
“I’m not suggesting you sample the whole town. At this point, a date would suffice. Hell, pay for your own meal for all I care. All I’m saying is, you’ll never get over the asshole by doing what you’re doing. You still see him almost every day, and if that isn’t bad enough, you work with his new girlfriend. Stop moping and start living.”
“Has anyone ever told you what horrible advice you give?”
“No one. Because I don’t.” She winked. “Why should he get to have all the fun? He’s the one who left you with a broken heart, so why does he deserve someone’s companionship more than you?”
“He doesn’t.”
“Exactly. So when can I start passing out your number? I know lots of single realtors who’d kill for a moment of your time. Just tell me if you’re looking for a date or a lay, and I’ll hook you up.”
This wasn’t the first time Kelsey had said this to me. Ever since I’d moved in, she’d told me to forget about the loser and move on—love or lust, she wasn’t picky as long as I was with a man who wasn’t Michael. And for the first time since she’d suggested I let loose and have fun, I contemplated it.
Kelsey was right—Michael shouldn’t get to have all the fun.
I deserved to feel good, too.
5
Jason
Kelsey greeted me with a smile and waved me inside. “Give me like five minutes to get ready. I was busy moving inventory around, trying to see if I had a recliner for you. I’m still working on it, but I think so.”
She didn’t even wait for my response before stalking across the apartment to her room, leaving me to close the front door. And considering she hadn’t told me to sit on the couch or help myself to something to drink, I stood in the three-by-three-foot area they tried to pass off as an entryway and waited for her to return. Which was where I would’ve been when she came back had I not been distracted by a rustling noise coming from the kitchen.
I walked closer, peering over the breakfast bar as I approached it. Nothing. It was a small area, nowhere to really hide, and unless they had a rat in one of the cabinets, the noise hadn’t come from in here. I was about to turn around when I heard it again, this time, coming from the pantry at the back of the kitchen. Upon closer look, I noticed light filtering through the slats of the accordion-style door.
Standing on the other side, I quietly held my ear close to it and focused on the sounds coming from the space. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard the distinct click of the lid to the washing machine. I held my breath and pulled on the handle. The door opened, and I was rewarded with the sight of Tatum’s very surprised eyes.
She stood in front of the washer, looking as guilty as a puppy next to a chewed-up shoe. Her dark hair was piled messily on top of her head, stray pieces framing her clean face. The last two times I’d seen Tatum, her lips had been painted red, eyes subtly lined with kohl, and her cheeks tinted a rosy hue that could’ve very well been natural. Now, at almost two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, she blinked up at me with nothing lining her lids other than inky lashes. No artificial coloring on her cheeks, just the purest shade of surprise.
Unbelievably gorgeous.
And she didn’t even have to try.
She wore a loose white tank with what appeared to be a grey sports bra beneath it. Jogging pants painted her legs black, hugging her figure and hinting at what hid behind the flowy fabric of her top. Maybe I’d been around Vegas showgirls for too long, but there was something intoxicating about her natural beauty.
Tatum was so uniquely different that I’d be able to spot her on a congested sidewalk in front of the Bellagio. At midnight. From across the street. I didn’t know much about her, but it was enough to confidently say she was unlike any other woman I’d ever met.
And one of the biggest things that set her apart from the rest was her awkwardness.
Like right now.
The way she guarded the washer told me there was something she didn’t want me to see, perhaps inside. I couldn’t imagine it being anything other than clothes, though there was no reason she’d be so secretive about that. Unless . . . lingerie. It was quite possibly filled with her bras and panties. Any normal, respectable man would bow out and let her tend to her delicates in private. However, just the thought of seeing what she wore beneath her clothes killed any chance of acting like a gentleman.
I took the few steps separating us and held out my arms. When her shock turned to disgust mixed with confusion, I asked, “Where’s my hug?”
The (Half) Truth Page 6
