by Robin Huber
“What?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably silly, but I thought maybe he was going to be someone special for me. Someone I could be with long term.”
“That’s not silly.” I can barely finish speaking because images of the life they could have had together begin flashing through my mind, engulfing my heart with grief for what could have been. “I wish that could have happened.”
“Me too.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “Well, are you dating anyone now?”
She laughs softly and shakes her head. “I haven’t had the greatest luck with men, so I decided to take a break from dating when I moved here.”
“Nobody’s measured up to Brandon?” I smile.
“Not yet. But, I do have a blind date this weekend,” she says, sounding cautiously optimistic.
“You do? With who?”
“John something. I can’t remember his last name. My cousin Sarah set us up.” She rolls her eyes and sips her drink. “I swear, she thinks if I’m not married by the time I’m thirty I’m going to shrivel up into an old maid or something.”
I laugh. “Sarah? Didn’t she get married when she was twenty-two?”
“Right out of college. She married the perfect husband, had two perfect children, and they have two perfect golden doodles, all living together happily in their perfect house.” She cuts her eyes at me. “Or that’s what she’d have you believe.” She shakes her head and sighs.
We sit quietly for a long moment.
“Hey, Liv?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you hear Brandon’s voice, ask him to send me a good one, okay? He set the bar pretty high.”
* * *
I’ve worked the lunch shift all week and still no signs of Gabe. It’s Friday afternoon now, and I haven’t talked to him since last weekend when we went to the beach. I’m starting to experience cold, clammy Gabe withdrawals. But I’m excited to see Trisha, who should be arriving sometime this evening.
Shelby, formerly known as the prom queen, waves me over to the hostess station and says, as bubbly as ever, “Hey, Liv.”
“Hey.”
“So...how was your first week?” The corners of her pouty mouth turn up and her dimples dive deep into her smooth, round cheeks.
I can’t help but smile back at her as I answer, “It was good.” But I’m slightly suspicious when I notice another young waitress, whose name escapes me, standing awfully close to her, poorly hiding her interest in our conversation.
“So, you know Gabe, right?”
I fight an uncomfortable, slightly amused, smile. “Yes.”
“You’re, like, friends with him, right?”
The other waitress’s attention is fully centered on me now.
“Yes,” I say carefully.
“Are you...more than friends?”
I have to stifle a laugh, which gets caught in my throat and comes out as a quiet cough. “Shelby, how old are you?”
“I’ll be nineteen next week.”
I nod and say gently, “You realize Gabe is almost thirty, right?”
A seductive smile spreads across her face. “And?”
“And”—I shake my head with concern—“he’s too old for you.”
She glances at her friend and they share a knowing look that I find troubling at best. “Well, how old are you?” she asks me.
“Twenty-nine.”
“Oh.” Her face falls and her thoughts appear to shift.
I can’t tell if she’s surprised or disappointed that I’m the same age as Gabe. By the look on her face, I’ve given her a lot to ponder.
“Well, was that it?” I force a polite smile and glance over my shoulder. “I’ve got tables waiting on me.”
“What...happened to him?” she asks quietly. “I hear people talk sometimes when he comes in, but I’ve never asked.”
“Oh. Um.” I close my eyes and try to shake off the thought of people gossiping about him. I exhale a quiet breath and explain, “He was, um...we were...in an accident when we were younger. A really bad accident.”
Her eyes get big, and I realize she’s too young to remember it, or to comprehend the magnitude of it. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” she says sincerely.
“It’s okay. I know.”
“Were you hurt?” her friend asks.
“Yes. And we lost my brother.”
Shelby pulls in a slow breath and lowers her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Liv. I had no idea.”
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t.”
“I shouldn’t have...what I said before—I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.” I smile softly and slant my eyes at her. “But Gabe’s still too old for you.”
She laughs quietly and says, “He’s so cute, though.”
“I know.” I widen my eyes and spin around to tend to my tables. Believe me, I know.
I spend the next half hour serving up plates of biscuits and gravy, eggs benedict, shrimp and grits, and, of course, chicken and waffles, to the accompanying sounds of Lou’s all-time favorite singer, Patsy Cline. She’s currently crooning the lyrics of I Fall to Pieces, which I now know by heart.
I move around the diner singing quietly to myself, “I fall to pieces...each time I see you again. I fall to pieces...how can I be just your friend?”
Finally, I pull my phone out of my apron pocket and send Gabe a text, hoping to evoke a of response from him.
Me: My friend Trisha from Raleigh is coming in town for the weekend and I want to show her around. Thinking about Charlie’s tonight. You should come!
A few minutes later, my phone whistles in my pocket and I nearly throw it at a customer’s head trying to pull it out.
Gabe: I’ll meet you there. What time?
No explanation for his radio silence, but he replied, and he wants to come. I quickly type a reply and hit send.
Me: 8:30. See you there :)
He’s busy, I remind myself. Busy handcrafting beautiful pieces of furniture in his garage...shirtless, most likely. Maybe a little sweaty.
I’m as bad as the prom queen.
I bury thoughts of Gabe and return to my work. His text was just enough to give me the fix I needed to hold me over until tonight.
“Liv Dalton,” a wonderfully familiar voice says from behind me.
“Trisha!” I turn around and see her standing in the middle of the Friday lunch crowd wearing white skinny jeans, rattan wedges, and a flowy printed silk shirt. Her wavy auburn hair is pulled back into a ponytail and her tortoise-shell sunglasses are pushed up on top of her head.
“What are you doing here so soon? I thought you weren’t going to be here until later today.”
“I was so excited to see you, I couldn’t sleep. So I left early.”
I leap toward her and throw my arms around her neck. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
She hugs me tightly. “I went to your house and your mom said you were here, so I thought I would come see for myself.” She drops her eyes over my outfit—a pair of khaki shorts, a blue Salty Lou’s T-shirt, and my running shoes, which were beginning to feel neglected. I haven’t gone running since my sprint with Gabe on the beach. But I think I’ve probably burned the same amount of calories waiting tables.
“Olivia Dalton waiting tables.” She shakes her head. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I crease my eyebrows. “It’s actually kind of fun. Besides, I needed the extra money.”
“Sweetie, you have a degree in English Literature and you speak fluent French. You should be sitting in a posh high-rise office, not slinging hash in a diner.” She leans in and sniffs me. “You smell like bacon.”
“It’s not just a diner. Lou’s is a staple in my pre-Trisha life. And I happen to know that you like bacon.”
“I prefer eating it, not wearing it like perfume.”
“Well then, sit down and I’ll get you some.”
She smiles and
pulls her sunglasses off her head and tosses them in her oversized purse. “I am kind of hungry.” She climbs up on a barstool. “I’ll have a house salad—dressing on the side—and a Diet Coke,” she says without looking at a menu.
“No you won’t. You’ll have the chicken and waffles and a sweet tea. No arguments,” I say, before she can disagree. “It will change your life. Trust me.” I spin around and put in the order.
“So, do we have plans for tonight?” she asks, leaning over the counter.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we’re going to a fun bar. And,” I mumble the next words, “Gabe’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?”
“Gabe. He’s going to meet us there.”
She gives me wide eyes and says rather loudly, “Holy shit, Liv!”
“What?”
“What do you mean, what?” she says quieter this time. “The infamous Gabe North, who I only know as the mystery boy who broke your heart before I met you? This is a big deal. A big freaking deal. I’m not sure I’m ready to meet him.”
“Okay, first of all, he’s not a boy.” I smile automatically. “He’s quite the opposite, actually. And you have to meet him eventually, so it might as well be tonight.”
She lets out a reluctant sigh.
“I need you to meet him, Trish. I need you to see that he’s not some monster who ruined me all those years ago.”
“Have you forgotten that I watched you cry yourself to sleep for months over him, that I used to hold your hair back when you got so worked up you made yourself sick?”
I nod over the difficult memory. “That was Brandon too, you know.”
“I know. But Brandon didn’t choose to hurt you. Gabe did.”
“You’re right.”
“Liv, he’s not just some old boyfriend you can be friends with now. He’s in there deep,” she says, pointing to my heart. “I saw what he did to you. I just don’t want to see you like that ever again.”
“You won’t. I won’t let that happen. I’m not the same person I was back then. And neither is he.”
She gives me a skeptical look.
“He’s a good person, Trish. And yes, I can be friends with him,” I say, still trying to convince myself. “I am friends with him,” I add for good measure. “We’ve been hanging out a little bit and it’s been...nice.”
“Nice?”
“Yes.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine, I’ll meet him. But I’m warning you, I may have to consume several alcoholic beverages to get through the night.”
“Why do you think I ordered you the chicken and waffles?”
Chapter 13
Gabe
Olivia Dalton came storming back into my life like a lightning bolt and she has completely and utterly wrecked me. This has been one of the worst weeks I’ve had in years. And I have no one to blame but myself.
I can’t relax. I can’t concentrate. I can’t sleep. I can barely work. I don’t know how to be friends with Liv. It was all I could do not to kiss her after Roxy’s bath. I came so close. But I knew that if I kissed her, it wouldn’t be enough. I wouldn’t be able to stop until I had all of her.
It’s like a light has been turned back on inside me and I don’t know how to turn it off. It started as a small pinpoint of light that I could just barely see in the distance, glowing and drawing me to it like a moth to a flame. And now, I can’t turn away from it. For the first time since the accident, I see a glimpse of who I was before, who I want to be again...for her.
But I’m no better for her now than I was seven years ago.
My seizures are getting worse, but I plan to keep that to myself. Not even my mother knows. She worries enough as it is.
I don’t know how to be friends with Liv, but I’m going to have to figure it out, because that’s what she deserves. A friend. A best friend, like she’s always been to me. It’s the least I can do after everything I’ve put her through. And selfishly, I’ll take her any way I can get her, even if that’s all we ever are. Even if it means watching her life unfold here on the Island right in front of me.
She’ll meet someone eventually, get married, probably have some babies. Damn, it’s going to hurt like hell, but I guess that’s what I deserve.
I kept my distance this week so I could try to get my head straight, but when Liv said she was going to Charlie’s, I knew I had to go. I realize Liv’s probably been to plenty of bars on her own, and doesn’t need my protecting, but I’ll be damned if she’s going to meet the man of her dreams in a bar filled with drunk, slobbering guys. So, that’s where I’m headed now.
Charlie’s is actually a pretty cool place. They remix country songs with hip-hop riffs. But without a good buzz, it doesn’t hold the same appeal. Excessive drinking doesn’t mix well with seizures.
I park my truck in the crowded parking lot and head inside.
The music is blaring through the wood-paneled room and people are yelling over it to talk to each other. I walk past a dozen half-dressed girls who whisper to each other when I pass them.
“Careful, they might attack,” an angel’s voice whispers in my ear. I turn around and see Liv’s beautiful face smiling up at me.
“You better take my hand then,” I say, taking her small hand in mine, unable to resist the urge to touch her, “just for good measure.”
She smiles and pulls me behind her. “Come on, I want you to meet my best friend, Trisha, from Raleigh.”
Best friend? I’m not sure I thought this through. I’ll never know what all Liv went through after we broke up, but God only knows what she’s told Trisha about me.
“Gabe, this is Trisha.” She introduces me to a pretty redhead sitting at a high-top table. Her friend’s wide eyes are fixed on me.
I suck up my insecurities and reach out to shake her hand. “Hi, Trisha. It’s nice to meet you,” I say confidently, keeping my tone light.
She shakes my hand. “Hi, Gabe. It’s...nice to meet you too,” she says, giving me a tentative smile.
“So, what are you girls drinking tonight?”
“Beer for me,” Liv answers, tapping her nails on the half-empty Michelob Ultra bottle in front of her.
“You want a glass?”
“Tastes better straight from the bottle.” She picks it up and takes a swig.
“I see you still like that watered-down stuff.”
“Some things never change,” she says, giving me a wink that hits me square in the chest.
Trisha empties her glass and places it on the table. “Cranberry and vodka for me, please. Thanks.”
“All right. I’ll be back.”
I make my way over to the bar and wait patiently for the bartender’s attention. I glance back at Liv and see her and Trisha engaged in a lively conversation. They’re whispering back and forth and laughing. Liv glances up at me and smiles. She looks relaxed and happy. I can’t help but smile, watching her from across the bar.
“Sorry,” I say when I bump into the girl standing next to me.
She looks up at me and smirks. “You should be more careful with those big shoulders.”
“Oh. Um.” I’m not sure how to respond. “Sorry?” I offer, and turn my attention to the bartender, who’s looking at me expectantly. “A Mich Ultra, your IPA on tap, and a cranberry and vodka. Thanks.”
I pay for the drinks, tip the bartender, and return to the high-top table, where Trisha and I engage in polite, guarded conversation for the next several minutes, until Liv tells her about my furniture line. Then it’s all industry insights and twenty questions as she brainstorms ways to work it into some new designs at her interior design firm. I entertain the idea to get in Trisha’s good graces, but I can barely keep up with the demands at Southern Coastal right now.
“I have to use the ladies room,” she says to Liv. “Want to come with me?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Okay, I’ll be back.”
Trisha disappears into the crowd and I’m grateful for a few minutes a
lone with Liv.
“So, how was your week?” she asks. “And don’t say busy.” She knows I’ve been avoiding her.
“Yeah, sorry I was MIA.”
She smiles one of her shy smiles. “I thought maybe you got sick of me already.”
I lean in close and say honestly, “I could never get sick of you.”
“Good”—she smiles again—“because I miss Roxy.”
I stifle a laugh. “She misses you too. She’s been pining for you all week.” I gaze at her, hoping against my better judgement to convey the truth. I’ve been pining for you all week.
“I know the feeling.”
We stare at each other for several long seconds, until the loud music and noisy people around us fade to white noise in the background. All I see is her, my Liv, sitting across from me, staring at me with those beautiful green eyes. I watch her mouth part as she draws in a breath and I fight the urge to lean across the table and press my lips to hers—lips I’ve kissed a thousand times, lips that have touched every single part of my body.
“Oh my God, I love this song!” Trisha shouts, dropping her purse on the table. “Come dance with me!” She pulls Liv off her barstool and drags her to a spot on the floor where several high-top tables have been pushed aside and a small crowd of people are dancing.
I stand up and lean against the table, keeping my eyes on Liv. She looks amazing in her jeans, filling them out in all the right places, and her legs go on for miles in her high heels. She won’t escape the eyes of a single guy in here. I watch her as she sways back and forth to the music, her long brown hair teasing the curve of her back when she moves. She twirls under Trisha’s hands and laughs, and her smile lights up the whole room.
I feel a long, skinny arm slide around my waist. “Long time no see, Gabey-baby,” Stacey McGillis says, smiling up at me.
I glance down at her briefly and then peel her arm off me. “Stacey,” I say, keeping my eyes on Liv.
“Well, can I get a hug?”
I ignore her.
“Is that Liv Dalton? When did she get back in town?”
I continue to ignore her and watch Liv.
Stacey huffs. “Are you still not over her?”