Faithful by S. A. Wolfe

is for show, Imogene. You don’t have to do that with me. I’m the good guy.”

 
     
     
    Ten
     
    The rest of the week flies by because I’m a lazy waitress and cut my shifts short, only doing the breakfast rush and skipping lunch so I can race home every day to string beads.
    The thought of living without my weekly diner paychecks is a great motivator to work harder and longer on the beading to the point that my fingers are sore and my hands are riddled with cuts from the sharp tools and some of the antique metal coins we’ve been reshaping. Lauren and I are beading maniacs, yet we’re still not caught up on the work we promised the Manhattan boutique, Sasha’s.
    I still have Lauren’s twenty-four hour companionship; however, I find myself missing that moment each day when the guys walk through the diner door for lunch. And by guys, I mean Cooper. He won’t let me escape that easily, though. He sends me wildly inappropriate texts, which I absolutely love.
    “Miss me? Shady Pines Motel is running a special. $15 per hour. I’ll book 6 hours for us to be safe.”
    I think about my new friend pretty much non-stop. It always starts with the memory of one of our kisses and continues with our teasing banter, and then it segues into the murky area of something more romantic. It’s dangerous territory—getting romantically involved with someone who is a trusted colleague and friend to many in my small circle. However, the former impression of Cooper I held to firmly for many months has been replaced by someone else entirely.
    Although our conversations have only been the light-hearted variety, those moments occupy my mind much of the day since I work in a solitary environment. For the sake of productivity, Lauren and I often work with headphones on so our talking doesn’t decrease our speed; however, on occasion, Lauren interrupts me and asks what I’ve been thinking about because I sometimes break into uncontrollable daydreaming smiles. Well, if that doesn’t just shoot my ball-busting image to shit, I don’t know what else would.
    As I tidy up the worktable and set up for tomorrow’s marathon beading session Lauren and I think we can perform, Lauren pops her head in the doorway.
    “Can you believe we’re never putting on those aprons again?” she asks, referring to our last shift this morning.
    “Are you scared or excited?”
    “Excited. Yep.” She smiles. “Dinner is ready, so quit fussing in here and come on down.”
    “Be there in a minute,” I reply, admiring the stunning lockets Cooper purchased for us.
    Lauren leaves, and I find another cloth, polishing a silver locket until it’s gleaming. Using an excuse that it’s Lauren’s wedding gift was clever. This guy is incredibly generous, and I like it.
    When I get downstairs, I see that Lauren has set the formal dining room instead of the kitchen table we usually eat at. She went all out with the good porcelain dishes that Jess left stored in the buffet for our use along with crystal candleholders on the table and buffet. White tapers are already lit and provide the only source of light against the dark woodwork of the room and table.
    Leo places two roasted chickens on the table as Lauren enters with some side dishes.
    “Lauren, you really outdid yourself,” I say, taking in the romantic atmosphere at the same time I wonder if the dinner is really for those two and if I should excuse myself.
    “It’s about time we had a nice meal in the dining room. Leo, the wine.”
    “Right,” he says, and then there’s a knock at the door. “That’s Coop.”
    “Cooper’s having dinner with us?” Part of me is thrilled; the other part is shouting every obscene expletive that crosses my mind. It’s going to be very difficult to keep this in perspective and not consider more if Lauren is going to push Cooper and I together at every opportunity.
    “It’s my ‘thank you’ dinner for him, for the jewelry,” Lauren explains.
    “Yeah, two chickens