place.
Natalie gives the restaurant a once-over and declares us finished for the night.
“Sweet,” Natalie says, tossing her apron on a nearby hook. She already has her keys in her hand and is halfway out the door before I can even grab my purse. I try to catch up with her to see if she wants to catch a late movie or something but she is already zooming out of the parking lot when I come out the back door. She toots her horn and I watch her as she speeds off like a crazy woman. A knot forms in my stomach, wondering what my best friend is up to.
Chapter Seven
Mr. Parson’s didn’t want to overwhelm me so I haven’t worked since my first day. I’m on the schedule for tonight though, which is Saturday. So, not only will I be working on a day when it is super busy, but I’ll also be working with Knox for the first time. I haven’t seen or talked to him since the day I stood Tate up. I thought it would get easier to forget about him as more time went by. I was wrong. I can’t seem to get into my bed at night without fantasizing about him gently gripping my hair, kissing my neck, and slowly undressing me. We’ve had sex in my mind so many times it isn’t even funny.
My nights usually end with me feeling overwhelmingly guilty for not thinking about Mom enough and calling her phone to leave her a voicemail where I’m sobbing so hard that she probably wouldn’t understand it even if she could somehow hear the message. Something about being able to still hear her voice comforts me though and I manage to drift off to sleep. But today is a new day and all that bullshit that everybody keeps force feeding me.
The doorbell rings just as I’m pulling my hair back in a ponytail. Dad had some mysterious errand, which I’m pretty sure consisted of running to Target to buy lots of DVD’s to keep him busy this weekend. The dad that used to spend the weekend woodworking has been replaced by one that zones out for hours in front of the television. I cut him some slack, knowing it could be a lot worse.
I bound down the stairs wondering who could be here. I fantasize that it’s Knox and he storms through the door and ravages me. I have about two hours to get this friend thing down. So far, I completely suck at it.
I whip open the door to find Karen, her arms full of something that smells edible but probably isn’t. She looks impeccable, just like her picture on all of her real estate billboards around town. God love her, she’s been bringing us food for the last three weeks and every single thing has tasted like shit. It’s become a running joke in the house. It’s been nice to have something to laugh about even though I feel guilty now that Karen is actually here.
“Karen, seriously? You really have to stop doing this,” I plead.
“It’s just a lasagna and some garlic bread. Nothing fancy,” she insists. That, I don’t doubt.
We know it is the thought that counts and I can tell that Karen just wants to do something to help us.
“Come in,” I offer, realizing how rude I’ve been in the past just taking her food.
“No, I shouldn’t,” she says, glancing behind her. “Well, are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I say, meaning it. I escort her into the kitchen and set the food down on the stovetop. “Dad will be home soon and he loves lasagna.” Thank God I have to work tonight so I can bow out of dinner.
Karen glances around the space that used to be filled with aromas of Mom’s home cooking. I push down the sadness of never tasting Mom’s homemade lasagna again. Man, that woman could cook.
“Are you okay?” she asks, delicately.
“Sorry, sometimes I just have these moments where I think about something that I’ll never experience with Mom again and it’s hard,” I explain.
“I lost my mom when I was nineteen,” she shares. “It was the hardest year of my life. Grief can take you down paths you never knew existed. If you are anything like I was, you’re probably going to
Natalie gives the restaurant a once-over and declares us finished for the night.
“Sweet,” Natalie says, tossing her apron on a nearby hook. She already has her keys in her hand and is halfway out the door before I can even grab my purse. I try to catch up with her to see if she wants to catch a late movie or something but she is already zooming out of the parking lot when I come out the back door. She toots her horn and I watch her as she speeds off like a crazy woman. A knot forms in my stomach, wondering what my best friend is up to.
Chapter Seven
Mr. Parson’s didn’t want to overwhelm me so I haven’t worked since my first day. I’m on the schedule for tonight though, which is Saturday. So, not only will I be working on a day when it is super busy, but I’ll also be working with Knox for the first time. I haven’t seen or talked to him since the day I stood Tate up. I thought it would get easier to forget about him as more time went by. I was wrong. I can’t seem to get into my bed at night without fantasizing about him gently gripping my hair, kissing my neck, and slowly undressing me. We’ve had sex in my mind so many times it isn’t even funny.
My nights usually end with me feeling overwhelmingly guilty for not thinking about Mom enough and calling her phone to leave her a voicemail where I’m sobbing so hard that she probably wouldn’t understand it even if she could somehow hear the message. Something about being able to still hear her voice comforts me though and I manage to drift off to sleep. But today is a new day and all that bullshit that everybody keeps force feeding me.
The doorbell rings just as I’m pulling my hair back in a ponytail. Dad had some mysterious errand, which I’m pretty sure consisted of running to Target to buy lots of DVD’s to keep him busy this weekend. The dad that used to spend the weekend woodworking has been replaced by one that zones out for hours in front of the television. I cut him some slack, knowing it could be a lot worse.
I bound down the stairs wondering who could be here. I fantasize that it’s Knox and he storms through the door and ravages me. I have about two hours to get this friend thing down. So far, I completely suck at it.
I whip open the door to find Karen, her arms full of something that smells edible but probably isn’t. She looks impeccable, just like her picture on all of her real estate billboards around town. God love her, she’s been bringing us food for the last three weeks and every single thing has tasted like shit. It’s become a running joke in the house. It’s been nice to have something to laugh about even though I feel guilty now that Karen is actually here.
“Karen, seriously? You really have to stop doing this,” I plead.
“It’s just a lasagna and some garlic bread. Nothing fancy,” she insists. That, I don’t doubt.
We know it is the thought that counts and I can tell that Karen just wants to do something to help us.
“Come in,” I offer, realizing how rude I’ve been in the past just taking her food.
“No, I shouldn’t,” she says, glancing behind her. “Well, are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I say, meaning it. I escort her into the kitchen and set the food down on the stovetop. “Dad will be home soon and he loves lasagna.” Thank God I have to work tonight so I can bow out of dinner.
Karen glances around the space that used to be filled with aromas of Mom’s home cooking. I push down the sadness of never tasting Mom’s homemade lasagna again. Man, that woman could cook.
“Are you okay?” she asks, delicately.
“Sorry, sometimes I just have these moments where I think about something that I’ll never experience with Mom again and it’s hard,” I explain.
“I lost my mom when I was nineteen,” she shares. “It was the hardest year of my life. Grief can take you down paths you never knew existed. If you are anything like I was, you’re probably going to
Similar Books
