Single Dad’s Waitress

by Amelia Wilde

  “Look, it’s okay,” he calls across the grass. “Come and talk to me. Not every babysitting job turns out. You can always get another one.”

  I stop, crossing my arms over my chest, and glare at him with every ounce of hatred in my body. “Fuck you, Conrad.”

  He pretends to act surprised. “My, my, Valentine, language.” He glances around like there’s somebody nearby to see, but the couple that was walking on the beach earlier is down at the other end now. Then he cocks his head toward the parking lot. His car is parked at the far end. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. “Come on. I’ll buy you some food. What’s that shitty Mexican place you love?” He laughs. “We can go there.”

  “You are honestly the worst person ever to live.”

  Conrad shakes his head indulgently. “Look, your feelings are hurt. That guy was a dick. Did you see him throw me on the ground?”

  “Yes, Conrad. I was right there. Of course I saw it.” I turn away from him. “Just leave me alone. Leave town. Find somewhere else to vacation.”

  I get exactly three steps before his hand is on my arm, yanking me back. “Valentine—” His voice is urgent. “Stop. Please. I made a mistake.”

  I tear my arm out of his grip and glare at him with gritted teeth. “Step. Back. I’m not going with you. Leave me alone.”

  This is what I should have done all along. I should have taken a stand for myself, back in the city. I shouldn’t have let them fire me, not for that bullshit with Conrad. I should have made a huge fuss about all of it. I should have hired a lawyer.

  I’m not going to bother with that now, but I don’t have to stand here by the beach and listen to this any longer.

  He opens his mouth to say something—one more thing, get the last word in, stay in control—but then shuts it. I whirl away and head for my car. If he follows me, so help me God...

  I’m pulling the door open when he gets to the curb. Not much in the world could deter Conrad right now, and my soul sags inside my body. I’m hurt and I have a headache. I’ve been in the sun too long. Keep it up. Just keep rejecting him. That’s all you can do.

  “Valentine, I’m not giving up on you. I gave up on you once before, but I’m not giving up now.”

  “Go home, Conrad.”

  “There’s nowhere for me to go in the city,” he says, louder.

  “Your apartment should be fine.”

  “My dad fired me from the agency.”

  That makes my ears perk up. “Well, you probably sucked at your job.” I reach for the door handle.

  “I’m not going back,” he says, sounding triumphant, somehow, even in this moment. He’s here for a consolation prize, and he still thinks he’s come out on top. “I’m not giving up on you.”

  “Please give up on me,” I shout, and then pull the door shut with all my might. It bounces off the metal clasp of the seatbelt with a clang, springing back open because of course it does. I tug the seatbelt in with a violent motion and shut the door.

  Conrad stands right in front of the car as I’m putting it in reverse. “I’ll never give up on you.”

  I feel my shoulders dip down. I can’t fight him anymore, and certainly not from inside my car. I am on the verge of tears. I’ve never been more hurt, more angry. I am utterly defeated.

  “Okay,” I say, even though he can’t hear me.

  Then I drive away.

  38

  Ryder

  Minnie is having the time of her life. She delights over the ice cream shop and charms the owner, who gives her way too much chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. I let her pick out every single piece of cookie dough. Whatever makes her happy. Someone should be happy on a day like today. Minnie should be happy every day of her life, but I know that’s not realistic, so ice cream it is.

  She’s covered in melted ice cream by the time it’s over, so I give her a bath. I can’t say no to her. I can’t bear to ruin even the slightest amount of fun for her, not today, not when her mother is dead. Not when I can’t even mourn the loss of her because she was awful. But she might not have meant that to Minnie. I let her splash water all over the bathroom floor. I don’t care. Water can be cleaned up.

  I’m exhausted by the time we get to her bedtime story, which is six readings of the same book, over and over. She says most of the words with me, and every time she does it I burst with pride.

  She’s so worn out that she goes to bed without a fuss.

  Perfect. Now I can dwell on what an asshole I was to Valentine.

  I strip off the clothes I wore into the city today, wishing I had the energy to burn them and stretch out in bed. It still smells like her. God, she smells good. In the dark, I press my face into her pillow and breathe it in. How were things so good, and then so bad?

  Leave it to Angie to ruin one more thing, even in death. It’s a cruel thought. I don’t like that I’ve thought it. But I’m so pissed at her and so dead tired, that I can’t turn it around in my head. I can’t be the better person that I—

  Oh, shit. The better person that I am with Valentine.

  I should go across the street right now and apologize. I make a half-hearted motion like I’m going to get back out of bed.

  Fail. I just can’t do it.

  I try to reach for my phone, but my arms are heavy. Every muscle in my body aches. Heavy eyelids. Heavy heart.

  I’ll apologize to her first thing in the morning.

  We’ll go get pancakes.

  She’ll forgive me.

  It’ll be perfect.

  Minnie is calling for me before I’m ready to wake up, but I’ve slept so deeply that I feel half-refreshed. Well, a quarter-refreshed. Let’s not kid ourselves.

  The sun is coming up on a hazy morning, the kind of summer weather that makes everything feel way too precious in a place like Lakewood. I don’t have to be at work until noon. I called Jamie on the way to the city yesterday, and he said I didn’t have to come in at all. Still, I should make up some of the hours, just on principle.

  But first—

  “Do you want to go get pancakes?” I ask Minnie, scooping her up from her Pack ‘N Play.

  “Yeah!” she cries, clapping her hands, and then it’s all a game of finding her an outfit to wear, bundling her into the car, and driving away from the house. Valentine’s car is gone, so she’s definitely at the Short Stack.

  My heart beats harder when we pull up into a spot right by the restaurant.

  “Pancake breakfast,” says Minnie solemnly, but then she breaks into a giggle. “Whipped cream!”

  I think of that first breakfast at the Short Stack after a long and tiring night, and smile. It’s not going to take long to get back to that. I’m sure of it.

  I open the door and the bell jingles happily against the glass. Today is the day we’re going to fix everything.

  Sharon hustles out from the back, grabbing two menus on the way. “Good morning!” she sings, and then she sees me and the smile fades from her face. “Good morning,” she says, and then smiles at Minnie. “I know just what you want. A Mickey Mouse pancake, is that right?”

  “Mickey Mouse!” shouts Minnie rapturously.

  Sharon nods. “I’ll put that in. Sit wherever you’d like.” She’s still being friendly, welcoming, but there’s something guarded about her expression that makes my stomach sink right down to my shoes. “Valentine will be right with you.”

  Minnie has only just started to color on her complimentary coloring page when Sharon comes out with her pancake. Minnie’s eyes go wide. “Oooh!” Then she looks up at Sharon. “Cut it?”

  I watch Sharon’s heart melt—it’s right there on her face—and she can’t deny Minnie any more than I could yesterday. Without looking at me, she takes the seat next to Minnie and reaches for her silverware.

  “Thanks, Sharon,” I tell her, trying to add every ounce of sincerity to my voice. “Let me just—” I jerk my head toward the bathroom.

  “Go ahead,” she says, flicking her gaze towar
d me. She doesn’t believe me. I don’t care.

  I take the opposite turn, going out to the front room and through to the kitchen.

  Valentine’s standing just inside, tying her apron around her waist, facing away from the door. I creep up behind her and wrap my arm around her waist from behind, pulling her in, ready to feel her body relax against mine.

  Instead, she tenses, spinning out of my grip and fixing me with a look that’s pure disgust. “Ryder. What are you doing?”

  I try to move toward her. “Making up with you.” She moves back a step. “But it looks like you need some space.”

  She rolls her eyes, and it’s not playful, not in the least. “I think we both need some space. I honestly don’t know what you’re doing back here, after yesterday.”

  “Valentine, I—” I have to swallow down an ache in my throat. There’s hurt in her eyes, and I caused it. But the way she moves away from me is killing me. Even that first time we met, when everything was so painfully awkward and strained, she was always drawn to me. “I’m sorry about yesterday. It was—”

  She waves a hand in the air, dismissing my words. “There’s nothing we need to discuss about yesterday. You know, it was really—” She meets my eyes and stands tall, lifting her chin just a little. “It was a fling we were having. It’s over now. No need to rehash it.”

  My instinct is to joke with her, to move closer, to make her laugh. I don’t know how, but I have to make her laugh. Only I can’t get close. She crosses her arms, standing back.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes. I do.” She answers firmly, and then moves toward the door, giving me wide berth. “Do you mind?”

  I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack this hurts so badly. How did I not see this coming? How did I not see? Numbly, I step aside. “Lead the way.”

  Valentine moves out into the front room, head held high, back to me, and I come through the door after her. This is going to be an absolutely excruciating breakfast. I can’t get out of it. Even from here, I can hear Minnie chattering to Sharon as she eats her pancake. There is no way on earth this could get any worse.

  The door to the Short Stack swings open and both of us stop.

  Valentine’s mouth drops open.

  It’s that ass from the beach.

  “Hey, Valentine,” he says, lifting his sunglasses from his eyes. “I told you I wouldn’t give up.”

  39

  Valentine

  I take a deep breath and try not to scream, swallowing a noise that would be fairly blood-curdling.

  This is not happening to me.

  Ryder snorts behind me, and Conrad presses his lips into a thin line. I can’t see Ryder, but I’m sure that, like Conrad, he’s puffing up his chest right now like there’s going to be some kind of duel right here in the front of the Short Stack.

  “You need me to—”

  “Zip it.” I hold up one hand, cutting off Ryder’s words. He laughs, slipping around me to the side and going back to his table. Sharon passes him on the way, greeting Conrad before she looks at my face.

  I look back at her, and then force on what I’m sure is an ugly smile.

  She looks back at Conrad. Back at me. Back at him. She narrows her eyes.

  Conrad puts on his most charming smile. “Is there a wait?”

  I want to tell him that there is a wait, and the wait is forever, but Sharon smiles at him, tight-lipped, and grabs a menu. “We’ve got an open table in the back.”

  Well, thank god for small mercies, then, because at least he won’t be in the front room with Minnie and Ryder. I don’t want him anywhere near them. I don’t want any of them at the Short Stack, but it’s not like I could deny Minnie a pancake. Or anything else. I can hear her giggling over the noise of the other people who have filtered in. I have a bunch of tables, so maybe I can just ignore this entire thing, usher Conrad on his way, and try not to let it show that I’m royally pissed at Ryder.

  “Valentine will be right with you,” I hear Sharon say from the back room.

  Conrad laughs. “Oh, I’m sure she will.” Then he lowers his voice, mumbling something else to her. I don’t catch any of it, only her eye roll when she comes back out to the front. Then she shoots me another glance. It’s a glance that says you’re going to spill all of this the very minute the breakfast crowd is gone.

  I grab my notepad like a shield. Let’s get this done with.

  I approach Ryder’s table with my head held high. I didn’t let myself cry over his assholery last night. I just stayed up until four watching reruns of my favorite workplace comedy and drinking chamomile tea. He looks up at me, a rueful smile on his face, and damn it, those eyes...

  I wasn’t going to do this. I wasn’t going to get sucked in again, get that pleasant-as-hell drop in my stomach when I saw him again. I was going to avoid him for at least a couple of days, but now he’s here, looking at me, and God help me I want to sit down on his lap and kiss him right here in front of everyone.

  “What can I get for you today? I see Minnie already has her pancake.” My voice comes out leaden, and I clear my throat. “We’ve got omelets on special.”

  Ryder leans forward, scanning down the menu perched on the edge of the table. “How about an...I’m sorry omelet?”

  “Oh, what a bummer. We’re all out.” It’s far more sarcastic than I intended, but whatever, no going back now.

  “What if I was really, really sorry?”

  I don’t have the time for this. “I’ll give you a couple minutes to decide.” I fix him with a big smile and turn away to the next table. It’s hard not to look back at him every time I walk by. I definitely want to.

  I get drinks for all those tables and put the orders in, and then it’s time to deal with Conrad. I keep my attitude brisk and professional. He’s not going to get the better of me. I’m done letting people get the better of me.

  “Good morning,” I say coolly. “What can I get for you to drink?”

  “I want you back, Valentine.”

  “Drink. What can I get for you to drink?” I repeat the question louder.

  “I told you I wouldn’t give up on you, and I’m not going to give up. I’m right here.”

  The words are so damn hollow it’s all I can do not to laugh out loud. Two months ago, I wanted those words from Conrad.

  “Is there anything I can get for you to drink?” I give him a sympathetic look. “If you’re not going to order, I’m afraid we’re going to have to free up the table.”

  He levels his gaze at me. My stomach turns, and not in a pleasant way. “Coffee.” Then he flips over the menu. So, this is his plan—camp out here with endless coffee.

  “Coming right up.”

  I turn on my heel and make a beeline for the kitchen, grab the pot, and take a deep breath. My hands are shaking.

  “Are you all right?” Sharon comes up and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Valentine, your face is red.”

  “I’ve got it,” I practically shout. I’m not going to back down anymore. I’m not going to stand on the curb while a man drives away from me. I’m not going to be left behind, damn it, not anymore. I’ll do the leaving. I’ll get through this shift, and then I’ll do the leaving, and they can all just deal with it.

  I march back through to Conrad’s table. He flips over the coffee mug that rests on his placemat. “Right to the top,” he says as I pour the steaming liquid into the mug. “Yeah. You’re a great waitress, Valentine. Amazing.” He’s supposedly here to win me back, and all he’s doing is making snide remarks. Classic.

  I just look down at him and finish pouring. “Did you want to place an order?”

  “Yeah,” he says, with a sneering grin. “For some of this.”

  Then Conrad reaches out and grabs my ass, squeezing it tight in his grip, like it’s all his.

  40

  Ryder

  I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Valentine since I got here. Yes, it was indeed a mistake to try and fix this by
hugging her in the kitchen. I want to do a lot more than hug her in the kitchen, but it’s pretty clear that if I’m going to do anything, it’s going to start with something a lot bigger than this.

  I’m still trying to figure out exactly what that might be when she hustles through the room, not looking at me, coffee pot clenched in her hand. I can just see that asshole from the beach’s table from where I’m sitting.

  She pours the coffee, and I just manage to tear myself away. I don’t need to be the person just staring at her like some kind of creep. Specifically, like that creep over there, who she clearly doesn’t want to be anywhere near. It makes me sick to think that she’s reacting to him just the way she reacted to me...

  But she didn’t. That’s not how she reacted. Her face is set, eyes flashing, and I wonder if this is the ass who got her fired from her job.

  Oh my God. How could I have been so stupid? Of course it’s the ass who got her fired from her job. I put both hands up to my hair.

  “Uh oh,” says Minnie, glancing at me while she scoops another spoonful of whipped cream into her mouth.

  “Uh oh is right,” I tell her, and I glance back toward Valentine to see if she’s coming back through yet. I’ll figure out something romantic right this second if she’s about to walk back into the room.

  Instead, I see the guy reach out for a fistful of her ass, right here in the restaurant, like we’re not in public.

  Hot rage bursts through my stomach, and I’m out of my seat before I even realize what I’m doing. If he’d do this in front of other people when she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with him, what would he do behind closed doors? Get her fired, that’s what. I don’t know what his story is. I don’t know what he could possibly be thinking, coming here, but I’m going to kill him.

  I’m going to kill him, and it’s going to be on behalf of the Valentine I met right here in this restaurant, the Valentine with puffy eyes and shoulders up to her ears, the Valentine who was so nervous about spraying me in the face that she almost didn’t notice how much I wanted her.