After Ever Happy (After #4) (45 page)

“Do you guys have any plans for the weekend?” I ask Landon while tying the strings of my apron around my waist.

“Not that I know of. I think he’s just sleeping here and leaving Monday afternoon.”

“Okay. I am working a double shift today, so don’t wait up for me. I won’t be home until at least two.”

Landon sighs. “I really wish you wouldn’t work so much. You don’t have to help pay anything, I got enough money from grants, and you know Ken refuses to let me pay for much anyway.”

I give Landon my sweetest smile and pull my hair back into a low ponytail, resting just above the collar of my black button-up shirt. “I won’t go over this with you again.” I shake my head and tuck my shirt into my work pants.

My work uniform isn’t too bad, a black button-up, black pants, and black shoes. The only part of the ensemble that bothers me is the neon-green tie I have to wear. It took me two weeks to get used to the look, but I was so grateful that Sophia got me a waitressing job at such an upscale restaurant that the color of the tie didn’t matter. She’s the head pastry chef at Lookout, a newly opened and highly over-priced modern restaurant in Manhattan. I stay out of her and Landon’s . . .
friendship
? Especially after meeting her roommates, one of whom I had already met back in Washington. Landon and I seem to have the same sort of “it’s a really, really small world” luck.

“Text me when you’re off, then?” Landon reaches for my keys on the hook and places them into my hand. I agree, assuring him that Hardin’s arrival isn’t going to upset me, and with that, I leave for work.

I don’t mind the twenty-minute walk each way. I am still learning my way through this massive city, and each time I get lost in the crowds of busy people, somehow I feel more connected to its vibe. The noise of the streets, the constant voices, sirens, and blaring horns only kept me up for the first week. Now it’s almost calming the way I just sort of blend into the masses.

People-watching in New York is unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. Everyone seems so important, so official, and I love guessing at people’s life stories, where they came from, why they are here. I don’t know how long I plan to stay here; not permanently, but I like it here for now. I miss him, though, so much.

Stop this.
I need to stop thinking this way; I’m happy now, and he has clearly made a life for himself that doesn’t involve me. I’m okay with that. I just want him to be happy, that’s all. I loved seeing him with his new friends at his graduation; I loved the way he was so collected, so . . . happy.

I just hated the way he walked off when I took too long coming back from the restroom. I’d left my phone on the counter by the sink, but when I remembered it and returned, it was already gone. Then I’d spent a half hour trying to find the lost and found, or a guard to help me find it. Eventually I saw it sitting on a trash can, like someone realized it wasn’t theirs, but didn’t bother to put it back where they found it. In any event, the battery was already dead. I tried to find Hardin at the spot where I’d left him, but he was gone. Ken said he’d left with his friends, and something clicked then—that this was over. It was really over.

Do I wish he would have come back for me? Of course. But he didn’t, and I can’t live my life wishing that he did.

I purposely picked up extra shifts this weekend, wanting to keep myself as busy as possible and keep my time at the apartment to a minimum. Due to the tension and bickering between Sophia and her roommates, I am going to try my hardest to avoid staying there, but I certainly will if things are too awkward with Hardin. Sophia and I have become closer, but I try not to pry too much. I am too biased due to my friendship with Landon, and I don’t think I want to hear the details. Especially if she started to feel comfortable talking to me about sex with him. I shudder thinking about Kimberly’s revelations about sweet, reserved Trevor’s escapades in the office.

Two blocks from Lookout, I look down at my phone to check the time and nearly walk straight into Robert. His hands reach out and stop me before I collide with him.

“Lookout!”
he says lamely, and chuckles while I groan. “See, it’s hilarious, because we work at Lookout and, and . . .” He smiles and adjusts his own lime-green tie comically.

The tie looks much better on him than it does on me, with his blond hair messy and sticking straight up in some places. I debate whether to remind him about Hardin, but stay silent while we cross the street with a group of teenage girls, all giggling and smiling at him. I don’t blame them—he’s handsome.

“Just a little distracted,” I finally admit as we turn the corner.

“He’s coming today, right?” Robert holds the door open for me, and I step into the darkly lit restaurant. The inside of Lookout is so dark that it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the difference whenever I walk inside from a sunny afternoon, and even now though it’s barely noon. I follow him back to the break room, where I store my purse in a small locker and he slides his cell phone onto the top shelf.

“Yes.” I close the door to the locker and lean my back against it.

Robert reaches his hand out to touch my elbow. “You know I’m okay with you talking about him to me. I don’t exactly love the guy, but you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know.” I sigh. “I appreciate that so much. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to open that drawer. I’ve had it closed too long.” I laugh and hope that it comes out more authentic than it feels. I lead the way out of the break room, and Robert follows close behind.

He smiles and looks up at the clock on the wall. If it weren’t glowing red with deep blue numbers, I don’t think I would be able to read the time in the hallway. The hallways are the darkest part of the restaurant, and the kitchen and the break room are the only areas that have standard lighting.

My shift begins normally, and the hours tick by quickly as the lunch crowd leaves and the dinner crowd begins to pour in. I’ve gotten myself to the point where I had almost been able to forget about Hardin’s arrival for five minutes straight, when Robert walks over with a worried look on his face.

“They’re here. Landon and Hardin.” Robert’s hands grab the hem of his apron, and he wipes the cloth across his forehead. “They’re requesting your section.”

I don’t panic the way I had assumed that I would. Instead, I simply nod and work my way toward the entrance and search for Landon. I force my eyes to only search for Landon and his plaid shirt, not Hardin. Nervously, I glance around the area, looking over face after face, none of them Landon’s.

“Tess.” A hand touches my arm and I jump back.

It’s that voice, that deep, beautiful, accented voice that I have played in my head for months and months.

“Tessa?” Hardin touches me again; this time his hand wraps around my wrist, the way it always used to.

I don’t want to turn and face him—well, I do, but I’m terrified. I’m terrified to see him, to see the face that has been permanently branded into my mind, never to be altered or diluted by time the way that I had assumed it would be. His face, grumpy and ever frowning, will always be as vivid as the first time I saw him.

I quickly snap out of my trance and turn around. In the mere seconds that I have to plan, I try to focus on finding Landon’s eyes before Hardin’s, but what’s the use?

It’s impossible to miss those eyes, those gorgeous green eyes that could never be duplicated.

Hardin smiles at me, and I stand there, unable to speak for a few seconds. I need to get it together. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

“Hardin wanted to come here.” I hear Landon’s voice, but my eyes don’t seem to want to cooperate with my mind. Hardin is staring at me just the same, his fingers still pressing against the skin on my wrist. I should pull away before the pounding of my pulse betrays my reaction to seeing him after three months.

“We don’t have to stay and eat here if you are busy,” Landon adds.

“No, it’s okay. Really,” I assure my best friend. I know what he’s thinking; I know he feels guilty and worried that bringing Hardin here will ruin the new Tessa. The Tessa who laughs and makes jokes, the Tessa who has become her own person, maybe even stubbornly so. That won’t happen, though. I have myself in check, under control, totally cool and collected. Totally.

I gently pull my wrist from Hardin’s soft grip and grab two menus from the board. I nod to the confused hostess, Kelsey, letting her know I’ll be taking these two to their table.

“How long have you worked here?” Hardin asks, walking with me. He’s dressed the same way he always was, same black T-shirt, same pair of boots, same tight, black jeans, though this pair has a small tear at the knee. I have to keep reminding myself that it has only been a few months since I left for my mother’s house. It feels like so much more time has passed—years, even.

“Only three weeks,” I say.

“Landon said you’ve been here since noon today?”

I nod. I gesture to a small booth against the back wall, and Hardin slides in on one side and Landon on the other.

“When will you get off?”

Get off? Is he making an innuendo?
I can’t tell after all this time.
Do I want him to?
I can’t tell that, either.

“We close at one, so I usually get home around two when I work a closing shift.”

“Two in the morning?” His mouth drops open dramatically.

I set the menus in front of the two men, and Hardin reaches for my wrist again. I pull back this time, pretending not to notice his intentions.

“Yes, in the morning. She works like this every day almost,” Landon says.

I shoot him a glare, wishing he would have kept that to himself, then wonder why I feel that way. It shouldn’t matter to Hardin how many hours I spend here.

Hardin doesn’t say much after that; he just stares at the menu, points to the lamb ravioli, and orders a water. Landon orders his usual, asking if Sophia is busy in the kitchen, and gives me more “I’m sorry” smiles than necessary.

My next table keeps me busy. The woman is drunk and can’t decide what she wants to eat; her husband is too busy on his phone to pay attention. I’m actually grateful for the drunk wife sending her food back three times; it makes it easier to only stop by Landon and Hardin’s table once to fill their drinks and once to clear their plates.

Sophia being Sophia, she wrote off their tab. Hardin being Hardin, he left me a ridiculous tip. And me being me, I forced Landon to take it and return it to Hardin when they got back to the apartment.

I
curse when I step on something plastic, but not too loudly, since I’m sure you can hear everything in this apartment—an apartment that, having few windows, is entirely too dark to see shit. And here I am, trying to remember the way back to the couch from the minuscule bathroom. This is what I get for drinking all that water at the restaurant in the hopes that Tessa would have to stop by more often. It didn’t work, and another server ended up filling up my glass several times. It did, however, make me have to piss all night long.

Sleeping on the couch while knowing Tessa’s closetlike room is empty drives me fucking crazy. I hate the idea of her walking through the city alone in the middle of the damn night. I scolded Landon for giving her the tiniest of the two “bedrooms,” but he swears that Tessa won’t allow him to change the arrangement.

Go figure. It doesn’t surprise me that she’s still as stubborn as she has always been. Another example of this: she works until two in the morning and walks home alone.

I should have thought about this sooner. I should have been waiting outside that ridiculous establishment to walk her home. Grabbing my phone from the couch, I check the time. It’s only one now. I can take a cab and get there in less than five minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, thanks to the near impossibility of catching a cab on a Friday night, I guess, I’m standing outside Tessa’s workplace, waiting for her. I should text her, but I don’t want to give her the chance to tell me no—especially since I’m already here.

People pass on the streets—mostly men, which only increases my anxiety about her leaving work alone at such a late hour. While analyzing her safety, I hear laughter. Her laughter.

The doors to the restaurant open and she walks out, laughing and covering her mouth with her hand. A man is next to her, holding the door for her. He looks familiar, too familiar . . .
Who the hell is this guy?
I swear I’ve seen him before but I can’t remember . . .

The server. The server from that place up by the cabin.

How the hell is that possible? What the hell is this guy doing in New York?

Tessa leans into him, still laughing, and as I take a step forward out of the dark, her eyes meet mine immediately.

“Hardin? What are you doing?” she exclaims loudly. “You scared the crap out of me!”

I look at him, then at her. Months of working out to relieve anger, months of talking shit with Dr. Tran to control my emotions, haven’t prepared me, and never could, for this. I have had small thoughts about Tessa’s having a boyfriend, but I wasn’t expecting or prepared to actually have to deal with it.

As nonchalantly as I can manage, I shrug and say, “I came to make sure you got home okay.”

Tessa and the guy share a look before he nods and shrugs his shoulders. “Text me when you get home,” he says, brushing his hand across hers as he departs.

Tessa watches him go, then turns to me with a not-unpleasant smile.

“I’ll hail a cab,” I say, still talking myself down internally. What did I think? That she would still be figuring shit out?

Yeah, I guess I did.

“I usually walk.”

“You walk? Alone?” I regret asking the second part of that question the moment it leaves my fucking mouth. After a beat, I conclude, “He walks you home.”

She winces. “Only the shifts we work together.”

“How long have you been dating him?”

“What?” She stops us before we even make it around the corner. “We aren’t dating.” She creases her brows.