Boomerang Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Chronicles)

by Chris Cannon

  I had time to go home and eat something before work. When I let myself in the front door, the smell of beef stew made me drool. My mom was standing in the kitchen stirring the contents of the Crock-Pot.

  “Tell me that’s ready to eat,” I said.

  “It is.” She inhaled deeply. “Thank goodness for slow cookers.”

  “Agreed.” I grabbed the ladle, filled a bowl, and sat down at the table.

  “How was your day?” she asked as she fixed her own dinner.

  “Mostly good. I think I said something that upset Jack.”

  “Zoe’s brother? Since when do you two talk?”

  I shrugged. “We’re in art together, and we work together at Betty’s. Talking seems unavoidable.”

  “He’s turned into a hottie,” my mom said.

  “Mommmm, ewwww… You can’t think about him like that.”

  “Please. Your dad was a hottie when we met in high school, so I can still spot them, even if I’m not interested in them.”

  “New rule. The word hottie is not part of your vocabulary.”

  “Fine.” She grinned at me. “But you have to admit he’s cute. And I can’t help but notice you don’t talk about Aiden anymore.”

  “Yeah, that didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends.”

  “Which means you’d be free to date and who knows…maybe one day you may even marry Jack. You’re practically a member of the family already. Think of all the perks: no awkward getting to know the in-laws situations.”

  I pointed at her with my spoon. “If I didn’t know where my shit-disturbing tendencies came from, you just reminded me.”

  “You have to admit I have a point,” my mom teased.

  “Nope. I don’t. And I’m going to scrub that thought from my mind because…ick.” I gulped down the rest of my stew and then headed upstairs to change into my retro waitress uniform. I’d just bobby pinned my tiara in place when my cell rang. It was Aiden. I let it go to voicemail because I didn’t want to deal with any more drama at the moment. If he’d been my boyfriend, I would have answered, but as just a friend, I didn’t feel like I owed him that kind of attention when I was getting ready for work.

  After a fresh application of hot pink lip gloss with purple glitter, I was ready to act like royalty.

  …

  Jack

  What Delia said was true, but it still pissed me off. What right did she have to talk about my dad and grandpa like what happened to them wasn’t something I was supposed to be mad about? Losing both of them in the same car accident…things like that weren’t supposed to happen. After they were both gone, and my mom had checked out mentally and emotionally, there didn’t seem to be too much to be thankful for.

  And then there was Delia filling a page with all these things she was grateful for, like her life was wonderful. How was that fair? And it’s not like her life was great. Hell, she spent holidays with us because her parents volunteered to work every Thanksgiving rather than spend time with her. What did that say about her family? The more I thought about it on the drive to Betty’s, the madder I got.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t be working tonight.

  Betty’s was crowded, so I focused on checking people out and counting correct change. I saw activity over at the dessert counter, but I didn’t look to see who it was.

  When the sounds of someone singing “Happy Birthday” drifted through the dining room, it confirmed that Delia was working. She stood by a table full of boys who were too old to have someone sing to them. They must have done it to embarrass the kid who was having the birthday. After finishing the song, Delia set the pie on the table, said a few more words, and then headed back to the dessert case. And the birthday boy and every other guy at the table watched as she walked across the room. What the hell did they think they were doing eyeing her up that way?

  “The new Pie Princess seems to be popular,” Todd said from behind me.

  I jumped. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “I said hello, but you were too busy glaring at the snots who were checking out the girl you claim not to like.” He grinned at me.

  “Shut up.”

  “Hey, I just came up here to invite you and anyone you might want to bring out back to the picnic table on your break. It’s Vicky’s birthday, and she’s bringing cake and hot chocolate to celebrate.”

  “She’s bringing cake for her own birthday?” That didn’t seem right.

  “I don’t question things like that anymore. If it makes her happy, I just go with it. Pass the info along to Delia, would you?”

  “Tell her yourself.”

  “Nope.” He laughed and walked off.

  Asshole. With no one waiting in line, I headed over to the dessert bar and passed the message to Delia.

  She blinked and tilted her head. “Why is she bringing cake for her own birthday? Shouldn’t he be doing something for her?”

  “I don’t get it, either.” I reached up and scratched the back of my head. “Listen, about earlier—”

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” Delia cut me off. “Or I shouldn’t have said it that way. You have every right to be angry at the universe.”

  “Being mad all the time, though…it’s exhausting.” Wait. Why did I say that?

  She moved closer, concern in her eyes. “Are you mad all the time?”

  “Used to be.” I shrugged. “Not so much anymore, but stupid stuff makes me angrier than I know it should. Like those jerkoffs checking you out.” Son of a… Why did I say that?

  She squinted. “What are you talking about?”

  “The birthday table…they were…” How did I say this without sounding like I was guilty of checking her out, too? “They were staring at you in a…never mind. People doing stupid stuff set me off.”

  “So thinking I’m attractive is stupid?”

  “What?” How had I ended up in this conversation? “No…I…”

  She laughed. “Just kidding. As long as the kids aren’t rude about it, I don’t mind if they think I’m cute. Maybe that will translate into better tips.”

  A customer approached the cash register. “I gotta go.”

  When break time came, I headed out back. Todd and Vicky sat at a picnic table. He had one arm around her shoulders and was eating cake with the other hand. She was looking at him like just being with him in a parking lot, in the cold weather, eating cake she’d brought herself was the best thing ever.

  “Happy birthday, Vicky.” I sat down and grabbed a piece of cake. “So what did Todd buy you for your birthday?”

  She set her fork down and held out her left hand. “The best gift ever. We’re getting married.”

  “Holy shit.” They couldn’t be more than twenty or twenty-one.

  “I know.” Vicky grinned. “I mean, it was a given that we’d get married, eventually, but I didn’t expect a ring this year.”

  Todd shrugged. “It seemed like the right time. Plus your dad was pissed when we moved in together. This should cool his jets.”

  “Oh my God.” Delia sat down next to me and reached for Vicky’s hand. “Is that an engagement ring?”

  “Isn’t it gorgeous?” Vicky kissed Todd on the cheek. “He did a great job.”

  “Congratulations.” Delia snagged a piece of cake. “You guys have been dating since you were like five, right?”

  “Not quite that long, but close,” Todd said.

  “Falling in love with someone you’ve known your whole life is the best,” Vicky said, “because they understand everything about you.”

  …

  Delia

  Todd looked at Jack and then at me and raised his eyebrows. Good Lord, was he in league with my mother?

  I laughed. “You are barking up the wrong tree.”

  Jack glanced at me. “Did I miss part of the conversation?”

  “Only because you’re an oblivious male,” I said. “Your friend Todd here was suggesting that you and I would make a good couple.”

  �
�Nope.” Jack stood and took his cake with him.

  “Hey,” I hollered after him. “It’s not like I agree with Todd, but you don’t get to be offended by the suggestion.”

  Jack stopped walking and turned back around. “Yes, I do. Because it’s stupid, and Todd knows I think of you as an annoying little sister, and he’s just doing this to piss me off.” And then he turned back around and headed inside.

  “Are you offended that he’s offended?” Todd asked.

  Am I? “Yes, because I’m the one who should get to say, ‘Ewww. That’s gross.’ Not him.”

  Vicky chuckled. “You two are perfect together.”

  “Thanks for the cake. Happy birthday. You’re insane.” I stood and stomped into the restaurant, totally irked with Todd and Vicky and their seemingly perfect relationship. Who married someone they’d fallen in love with in grade school? Honestly…it was ridiculous. No one was supposed to find their perfect match that early in life. It was annoying. I’d thought Aiden was perfect, and I’d been way off base. Heck, Aiden would probably rather kiss Jack than me. Wait, why was I thinking about anyone kissing Jack? Not that I cared. Not like I wanted to kiss Jack. Just because he’d somehow turned into a hottie when I wasn’t paying attention didn’t mean he was boyfriend material.

  As I walked by him, he muttered something under his breath. I didn’t stop to see what he was griping about because a woman was standing at the dessert case eyeing up the pecan pie. I slid behind the glass case and slipped into my Pie Princess persona.

  “Can I help you?”

  The woman tapped the glass counter with her French manicure that was chipping off on the ends. Probably because she used her nails like a jackhammer. “I want a piece of that pecan pie.”

  I reached into the case and pulled out a pie, which I’d already cut into individual pieces. “Would you like that for here or boxed up to go?”

  “I don’t want that pie.” The woman pointed at the perfectly good pie I held. “I want a piece of that pie.” Again she tapped the counter and a bit of her white nail tip flaked off.

  I knew the mantra that the customer was always right, but Betty had impressed upon me that we only cut up one pie at a time. Otherwise some pieces could go to waste. I didn’t think that was a possibility, because if she ever tried to throw out pie, I’m sure whoever was nearby would volunteer to eat the remaining pieces rather than let them land in the trash.

  Maybe the woman would be reasonable. “They are both pecan pies, ma’am. And this one is already cut, so I’m supposed to serve it first.”

  “I don’t want that one.” The woman’s voice carried across the room. Several diners and Jack glanced over to see what was going on.

  Crap. Decision time. Did I give in and send the woman on her way with the specific piece of pie she wanted or stick to the rules I’d been given?

  Someone approached in my peripheral vision.

  “Mrs. Banks, is there a problem?” Jack asked.

  “This young lady won’t sell me a piece of pie.”

  What the heck? I held up the pie, which was already cut into pieces. “Betty told me not to cut another pie until this one is gone.”

  “Mrs. Banks has been eating here since the restaurant opened,” Jack said. “So you should just give her the pie she wants, because she won’t change her mind.”

  “No, I won’t.” The woman beamed at Jack. “You’re always such a helpful young man.”

  I bit my tongue, kept my rant to myself, and cut into the new pie, giving Mrs. Banks what she wanted. I even tied a pretty ribbon around the box, making sure the knot was extra tight. My version of being passive-aggressive.

  The woman paid for the pie and headed for the front door. When she was out of earshot, I turned to Jack. “What in the heck was that about?”

  He smiled like he was in on a joke I didn’t understand. “Mrs. Banks once waited an hour for the specific table she wanted, rather than sitting at one of the other open tables. I think she prides herself on being difficult. You can’t reason with her. It’s best just to give her what she wants.”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out. “I hate people who think they should be treated differently than everyone else. Like they get some pass on the standard rules because they’re better than everyone else.”

  He shrugged. “She’s not worth getting upset over.”

  “I thought you were the king of being angry at everything.” Crap. I really needed to reinstall that filter on my mouth.

  Instead of stomping off, Jack chuckled. “It’s all a matter of perspective. Eccentric old ladies don’t make me mad, but old men who call me son—they tick me off.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jack

  I blinked. Why did I tell her that?

  Delia tilted her head and studied me. The light reflected off her sparkling pink lip gloss. “You didn’t mean to say that, did you?”

  “No.”

  “You can, though…share stuff with me, I mean. Like we said before, I am practically family.”

  Family. Right. Family who wore distracting sparkly lip goo. “I better get back to the cash register.”

  “Thanks for helping,” Delia called out after me.

  I waved as I walked away. As I rang out customers, I kept my eyes straight ahead rather than check out Delia as she sold pie. When my shift ended, she was already gone.

  In the parking lot, I saw Delia sitting in her truck. I climbed in my car and started the ignition, waiting to see what she was doing. Exhaust was coming out of her tailpipe, so she wasn’t having car problems or truck problems, or however you’d say that. She was texting someone. Maybe that Aiden guy.

  Whatever. None of my business who she texted. Just because we were being civil to one another didn’t mean I needed to babysit her in the parking lot. There were plenty of people in Delia’s life who’d help her if she needed something. It’s not like I was special.

  The smell of turkey hit me when I walked in the front door. My grandmother stood in the kitchen stirring a pot on the stove. “What are you making?” Thanksgiving was three days away. She couldn’t be baking the turkey now.

  “It takes all day for the turkey to bake in the roaster, and the smell always makes me want turkey soup. This year I thought I’d cheat the system by having turkey soup ready ahead of time.” She dipped a spoon in the pot and taste-tested it. “It’s done. Do you want some?”

  “Sure.” I joined her in the kitchen and accepted the bowl she ladled out for me. “Where are Mom and Zoe?”

  “They went Christmas shopping.”

  I tried the soup. “It’s good.”

  “Of course it is.” She grinned. “Anything you want to talk about since we have the house to ourselves for a little bit?”

  I thought about it. “Not really.”

  “Are you bringing anyone to Thanksgiving?”

  “Not unless Trevor wants to stop by. How about you?” My grandmother had been dating this Everett guy, who happened to be Zoe’s boyfriend’s grandpa.

  “I enjoy Everett’s company, but holidays are for family.”

  “And apparently Delia,” I muttered. “Why doesn’t her family ever have their own Thanksgiving?”

  “Delia’s mom isn’t really a cook, and I think the money is too good for them to pass up. Do you mind Delia being here?”

  “I’m used to it, but I kind of feel sorry for her. If you and Mom decided you’d rather work for extra money instead of having Thanksgiving, I’d be mad.”

  “Maybe since she’s never really known anything different, it seems normal.”

  …

  Thanksgiving morning, I woke up to the sound of people talking in the kitchen, courtesy of the heating vent. I grabbed my cell off the nightstand and checked the time. Nine. At least I’d slept in a little bit. I lay there a minute to eavesdrop on the conversation before going downstairs, because sometimes it was good to know what I was walking into.

  “Grant said Aiden wanted to ask you to come by his hous
e for Thanksgiving.” That was Zoe’s voice. She must be talking to Delia. Was Delia already over here, or were they on the phone?

  “Why would I do that?” Delia said.

  Crap. She was already here. No Delia-free time for me today.

  “I already have a friend to spend Thanksgiving with—you. Why would I want to spend it with him?” Delia sounded annoyed. Apparently, she wasn’t over this stupid Aiden guy, not that I cared who she dated. It was none of my business.

  “Maybe he’s reconsidering your relationship,” Zoe said.

  “Nope. Been there. Done that. He chose the sucky ending, and he gets to live with it.”

  My life would be easier if she was off the market. I rubbed my eyes, trying to erase the images from my dream last night where Delia and I had been way more than friends. And it had seemed so real. She’d had a flat tire after work, so I’d given her a ride home. She’d asked me to come in since no one was home to check out the house. How often did she go home to an empty house? That would kind of suck. Being down two family members was bad, but not having anyone in the house would be worse.

  Anyway, I’d checked the house, and then when I went to leave, my car wouldn’t start, and it had started to sleet, so I decided to camp out at her house on the sofa. It was like my brain was coming up with reasons to push us together, and it had worked. Her sparkly lip gloss had tasted like watermelon Jolly Ranchers. I scratched my head. Had I ever dreamed a taste before? Not that I could remember.

  My cell beeped. A text from Trevor showed Rocky with some weird plastic thing around his neck. It took a minute to realize it was the swinging lid to a trash can. I laughed. He must have stuck his head in the trash can to steal something and ended up with the lid stuck around his neck. I texted back, Not sure the new collar is a good look for him.

  Trevor texted back a quick LOL. My stomach growled. Time for breakfast.

  …

  Delia

  Why would Aiden think I’d want to spend Thanksgiving with him? Did he just want to use me as a fake girlfriend to make peace with his father? Not that I could blame him, but I wasn’t ready to be that good of a friend yet. Rational or not, it still stung that I wasn’t his type.