Finally, I swallow my drink.
At least she’s not texting or calling me, but still. That’s a whole lot of emails in two freaking days. And every single one gets more aggressive. When I open the last one, all I can do is laugh. Because she’s lost her mind if she thinks she can talk to me like that and still get her way.
WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER ME? I need the fucking money, you stupid whore. Just send me the five grand! He would want me to have it! He gave me anything I wanted, and now you’re holding out on me, you selfish, jealous bitch! He neverloved you. You were a joke to him. Give me what you owe me!
Without responding, I shut the computer and sigh into my glass of lemonade. I fucking hate her. I wish with all my might that delegating money to her wasn’t my responsibility.
Why did you do that to me, Justin? After everything else, you had to add in the fact that I have to pay your mistress until the end of time?
Asshole.
I move to my small dresser and pull out some clothes for today. I don’t have much that isn’t dirty since I haven’t been able to go to the laundromat. I also have towels, aprons, and other linens from downstairs that I need to wash. I've heard that there’s a laundry service run by a really nice woman named Abbi Wild. I wonder if I could hire her until my car is fixed?
In fact, I pick up the phone and call her. She owns a cleaning service in addition to the laundry services for businesses, and I’ll happily carve out the funds to pay her to help me.
“This is Abbi,” she answers.
“Hi, Abbi, my name is Juliet. I own Sage & Citrus here in town.”
“Oh, Iloveyour restaurant,” she says, and has a smile in her voice. “We eat there at least twice a month. How can I help you?”
“I’m so happy to hear that you like it, thank you. Hey, my car has broken down, so I can’t get to the laundromat for both my personal and professional laundry. I was hoping?—”
“Say no more. I’m happy to help. If you bag everything up for me, I’ll have one of my employees pick it up from you this morning. I can give you a two-day turnaround, if that’s okay?”
Holy shit, it feels like a weight has just been lifted, and I sigh in relief. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Abbi.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. It sucks when you feel stranded, even in a small town.”
“And just to clarify, you’re okay with washing my personal clothes?”
“Honey, that’s no problem. Happy to do it. I’ll even do it myself. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Thank you so much.”
“You got it. Happy to help.”
I end the call, and with a smile, I get dressed, put on my makeup, tie my hair up in a bun, then gather up my clothes to take downstairs.
Today is looking up.
We’re past the lunch rush, and we’re sitting in that quiet lull before dinner, when we have a couple of people in the restaurant, but it’s slow enough that we can get some cleanup and restocks done before the next wave of hungry customers.
Christy just went home for the day, and now I have Tandy and Hazel with me. The girls are chatting about the concerts they want to attend this year, and I’m trying to decide how many eggs I need to order from Beckett. The bell over the door chimes, and when I glance up, I freeze.
Because for the first time ever, Brooks Blackwell is walking into my restaurant.
He glances around and then pins me with that intense hazel gaze as he strides toward me. Seeing him is always a punch to the gut. He’s so tall, so broad and muscular. And maybe the worst part is, I know what he can do with that body.
Or what he used to be able to do.
I’m sure it’s only gotten better.
Don’t think about that.
“Hey,” he says as he reaches the counter.
“Hello. Are you hungry?”
