The Trouble With Before (24 page)

“So that’s why you’re dressed like that?”

She looks a little hurt, and I instantly feel bad. It wasn’t a dig. I think she looks good—
too
good. Ardeby’s is one of the only places in town that isn’t a franchise bar and grill, and it’s the most fun place in Madison, not that that’s saying much. We all used to hang out there when she worked there . . . before.

It’s also where I had to, more than a few times, threaten to kick a dude’s ass for “accidentally”
grabbing hers.

“I always dressed like this when I worked there. You know, better you look, the better the tips?” she sings, flashing me a wide smile that I try to ignore.

I don’t remember her dressing like this before. Or did she? I think back. I guess she did; it just never really bothered me before.

“I just . . . I figured you’d want something that would work with Willa’s schedule. Do they have you on days?” I ask.

She squints and looks down at her boot, sliding the tip back and forth in the dirt. “No, Thursday through Sunday nights for right now.”

I keep from rolling my eyes. That’s the best shift in a place like that, so I don’t see her wanting to change it, but it conflicts with the times we were getting Willa.

“So you’re not going to be able to keep Willa on the weekends anymore?” I ask.

She looks away from me, turning her attention to the side mirror on the Bel Air. “It’s not a big deal, Aidan. It’s more of a matter of convenience.”

“Matter of convenience?” I ask her in disbelief. “For who?”

“For them, Aidan!” Her words are loud and short. She fiddles with the black purse on her shoulder, then pulls out a little black tube of lipstick and rubs it against her lips.

I want to snatch it from her, spray her with a hose, and tell her to cut this bullshit out and go see a therapist, but I don’t know if that’s too harsh for the state she’s in. I can be too harsh sometimes, I’m told.

“When Gwen gets back, the visits would have stopped anyway. Lauren’s due soon, right?”

I notice how hard she swallows, and her chin falls briefly. I walk closer to her, but she doesn’t look up.

“Willa loves you, Leese. That’s why Mr. Scott even let her come. Don’t do this,” I plead.

Her head snaps up. “Don’t do what?” Her tone is sharp, but her expression is revealing. Beneath the sexy clothes and heavy makeup, she’s hurting, and if I’m not careful, she’s going to break.

“I’m not pushing her away. But unless I want to be Grams’s roommate indefinitely, I need more money than I was making being a substitute. The teacher I was covering for is back from medical leave, and the other jobs are at other schools and different grades, and they’ll suck!”

She stares at me intently, as if she’s desperate for me to agree with her and tell her this new job is awesome and not to worry about it if she can’t see her daughter much or at all . . . actually,
what daughter
? I cross my arms. I won’t do it. I refuse to. I’m trying my best not to push her, but I won’t be a fucking enabler.

“Aidan, you’re going to be in Chicago soon . . . I-I have to start thinking about
me
, what I’m going to do for myself.” Her voice is quiet.

I look at her, trying to hide my disgust. “Maybe you should talk to someone, Leese.”

Her face screws up as if I just suggested she eat her own vomit. “Talk to someone about what?”

“About what happened with the baby.”

Her face turns red. “This is
my
life. I told you as a courtesy. My decisions are mine to make, okay!” She takes a few breaths as if she’s trying not to cry.

I wish she would. I’d rather see her feel than keep this wall up around her.

“I’ve got to get going. I’ll talk to you later,” she says before stalking off to her car.

I throw my towel at the car when I see she’s reached her car.

“What baby?”

I turn around to see Grams standing behind me, her hand on her hip and looking confused.

“Not now, Grams,” I tell her, heading back under the Bel Air.

“Aidan Riles, you get in this house right now and you better start explaining.”

I trudge inside, and Grams makes me sit at the kitchen table. I finally break down and tell her about how Lisa ended up on our doorstep and how she lost the baby.

“That poor girl,” Grams mutters. “I’ve never been through anything like that. I can’t imagine what she’s going through . . .” Grams looks off into the distance as though if she looks hard enough, she can see the answer.

“I don’t know what to do, Grams. I know this isn’t something that she can just shrug off, and I don’t want her to make a lot of bad decisions because she’s mad at the world.”

She lets out a long sigh. “Pain like that can change a person, that’s for sure.” Grams shakes her head a little bit. “You’re her friend. You can’t let her push you away, and
you
don’t push her away.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I say.

“Well, you can be pretty stubborn, and that isn’t exactly a way to let someone know you’ve got a shoulder for them to lean on.”

I let out a deep breath. “So what do I do?”

“You be there for her. You can’t make her do what you want her to. If you want to stop someone from jumping off a cliff, you have to know when they’re going to do it, and if you’re a hardass with her, you won’t have a clue which cliff she’s jumping off of.”

“I don’t want to sit back and watch her screw up her life. I want to tie her to a chair and yell at her until she gets better.”

She chuckles. “Well, unless you want to go to jail, I suggest you try the less bull-headed route.”

THE LOUD MUSIC
, booze, and energy isn’t enough to take my mind off the argument I had with Aidan earlier. Well, not argument, I guess. More like a lecture. He couldn’t just tell me he’s happy I’ve gotten out of my funk. No, that would be too much like right for my hardass best friend. Only someone as insensitive as him would bring up what is supposed to be the elephant in the room. Why can’t he just be one of those guys who goes over his thoughts in his mind, who’s sensitive instead of just laying it out there?

“Here you go, boys. Two off the tap, and 9-1-1 wings,” I tell the two guys as I pass them their order.

“You just started here?”

“Um, sort of. I used to work here a while ago, but I’m back now,” I tell them with a fake smile.

“Lucky us,” his friend says.

I fight against rolling my eyes.
Snotty chicks get shitty tips
.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” I say, trying to be as upbeat as I can.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. I scurry through the crowded room, dropping off wings, beers, onion rings. Smile here, flirt there, wink again, and repeat. My feet are killing me thanks to the boots I’m wearing, and my shoulder sort of hurts. I forgot how hard being a waitress is, but I’ve made about a hundred fifty dollars in tips, which isn’t bad for a Thursday night with a non-local basketball game playing.

Only a handful of people are left. We close in the next hour, and this is the perfect time for me to sneak away to the back. I let out a long breath as I sit in the employee lounge, which is really just two tables and a TV set up in the corner of the room, but it’s heaven after being out there. I don’t remember the job being like this. It used to be fun. Well, that was when I still knew people who worked here and my two best friends would come and hang out.

“How’s your first night going?”

I look back and see Emily, another waitress. The owner, Joey, introduced me to Emily when I came back and sort of begged for my old job. She’s a cute brunette with a smile that makes you feel as though she’s your best friend.

She sits beside me with a plate of Cajun fries. “Oh my God, it was so busy today.” She groans before pointing at the plate to ask if I want some.

I shake my head. “Yeah, at least it made the day go by fast.”

“At least tomorrow is team day, which means we can wear gym shoes.” She winks, and I let out a sigh.

“Yeah, that’d be pretty great,” I say with mild enthusiasm.

There’s an awkward silence between us.

“So how’d a girl like you end up in a place like this?” she says with a laugh.

I giggle. “I don’t know, but it’s getting kind of old.”

Emily looks down awkwardly.

“I’m sorry. I’m not in the best mood,” I tell her apologetically.

“No worries. Trust me, we all get like that here. I know I do. I’d much rather be home with my little one than here dodging guys who want to grope me. It’s like, ‘Hello, the strip club is about fifteen minutes from here.’”

“You-you have a daughter?”

She nods enthusiastically and pulls out her phone. She shows me a little girl dressed up in princess costumes. She looks a little younger than Willa.

“She’s beautiful,” I say, feeling a headache developing.

“Thank you,” she says, putting away her phone. “Her name’s Megan, and she’s the reason I put up with the crap here.”

I wouldn’t have thought she’d had a baby. She looks like she can’t be no older than twenty-three. “Are you married? Or is that rude to ask?”

“No, not at all. No, I’m not. I had her when I was 16. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but her dad helps out a lot. It could be a lot worse, and she’s my joy,” she says genuinely.

I swallow hard.

“I’ve got one more year before I get my bachelor’s, then hopefully I can make it out of this place.” She smiles.

I look at her, surprised, and want to put my own foot in my judgmental ass. I assumed that this girl was me two years ago—here for fun, always down for a party, and working at a place that serves alcohol as a cherry on top. Turns out Emily is miles ahead of me in life.

“What about you? Married? Boyfriend? Kids?”

How do I even begin to answer that? I feel bad since she’s been so forthcoming. “I just had a breakup and umm . . . yeah . . .”

She nods. “Well, you’re bound to meet someone here. We get all types of guys. Most are just looking to hook up, but one of the waitresses, Fiona, met her fiancé here. They’re getting married next month.”

“I’m not exactly looking for my knight in shining armor.” I know now my life isn’t necessarily meant for a happy ending.

She gets up from the table and gives me a half smile. “Well, that’s usually when they find you,” she sings before leaving.

I linger in the break room for an extra five minutes before building myself up enough to head back out. I think this used to be easier because I drank first. I head out to the floor, rubbing the back of my neck, and plaster on my flirty smile.

Then I see Aidan sitting at a booth with a beer in front of him. I fight the real smile that spreads across my face, my spirit leaping because I’m so happy to see him. But I force my spirit to sit down and remember our conversation from earlier. He’s probably here to try to drag me home or tell me how selfish I’m being. I put my guard up and head over to his booth even though he’s not in my section. His eyes drag up my body. I’d swear he’s checking me out, but Aidan doesn’t look at me like that. It still doesn’t stop my cheeks from flushing.

“What can I get you?” I ask him playfully.

His blue eyes reach mine and they smile at me, warming my entire body. My heart does jumping jacks, and my stomach feels as though it’s been dropped down an elevator. His signature dimples are showcased, and his red baseball cap makes me zone in on his eyes, eyes I can read sometimes so easily. I instantly know he’s not here to scold or annoy me. I’m reminded how hard I fought not to kiss him each night he lay beside me, rubbing my back and telling me everything was going to be okay. Even just wearing a baseball cap and T-shirt, he’s one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen, and behind his rough, rugged exterior is a sweetheart. I bite my lip, almost nervous from looking at my best friend.

“I missed you.”

His tone is warm, and it heats me up. It’s absent of any innuendo as he says words I never expected him to say so easily. I fight the urge to hug him.

“I missed you too, A.” I smile and put my hand on his shoulder. He grasps it and leans a little into my side, and my stomach tightens. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d
always
be here,” he says casually, as if it’s
no
big deal, but it means
everything
to me and my heart warms itself.