A familiar face cut through the noise of the street. Sandy-brown curls gelled back stubbornly. Steely dark-gray eyes, colder and older than they should be. That second line etched at the corner of his mouth when he smiled—I’d seen it in Nina too many times this past month.
For a second, shock hollowed me out. I’d been expecting to hear from him for weeks, not for him to turn up here. He opened his arms, and just like that, anger burned over surprise.
My jaw locked, voice dropping. “Fucking Vinny.”
12
Nina
Reality Bites hummed with the low thrum of espresso machines, the hiss of steam, and the soft scrape of metal chairs against damaged wood floors. Lynnie found a ratty poster ofHeathersover the weekend, now hanging proudly atop one of the secondhand loveseats. She’d bragged about hanging it just the right way, even when it was awkwardly angled at not quite ninety degrees, and definitely not an intentional forty-five. Customers ate it up, checking out the new addition to the decor and starting conversations about Winona Ryder and her ’90s icon status. Lynnie indulged them. A little flirting never hurt anyone, she’d say, no matter how many chastising looks I gave her.
I’d settled in the kitchen. Technically, I didn’t need to come to Reality Bites to answer emails, work on clients’ socials or proposals… but Lincoln’s house felt empty while he was at 3D’s. The kind of emptiness that trickled when I found myself missing the way the floors creaked beneath his footsteps.
So I typed and clicked and designed under Lynnie’s watchful gaze. Even if half the time I had to go back and revise whatever made little to no sense.
“Talk to me, Nina,” Lynnie said, kneading dough. As if experimenting with the menu was a better idea than starting on the retirement party order due at 7:00 a.m. the next day. “Something’s up. You’re quieter than normal.”
I pursed my lips, focused on the iced coffee sweating onto a napkin beside my mouse. Linc was still drinking tepid coffee and lukewarm water. He’d even worn pink today, eyes twinkling, knowing I was messing with him, and he continued to give me opportunities to do just that.
Lynnie worked a few feet away, flour streaked on her apron. “You’re going to get wrinkles.” She wiped her hands and came to stand next to me, bumping her hip against my side.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Lynnie.”
She tilted her head, looking birdlike, yet amused. “Come on. Someone’s clearly in your head and has you like a zombie,” Lynnie sang, matching the rhythm of the music video playing overhead, courtesy of oldMTV Classicreruns.
“What’s got you all in knots?”
I closed my laptop, then crossed my arms on the counter and rested my head on them. Lynnie wasn’t someone new. She’d known every one of my dark secrets as a sixteen-year-old, and she’d helped me for the past almost-four months since I’d lost my job. Her eyes were wide and shining with eagerness. She’d help more if I let her, but I didn’t know how.
I pressed the heel of my hand against my sternum, willing the tightness there to ease. “He’s not—” I swallowed. “He’s not how he used to be.”
Lynnie’s laugh was low, skeptical. “Lincoln?”
I nodded.
“So if he’s changed…” Lynnie came closer, extending her arm, palm up, across the table. Her eyes rounded with sympathy behind her thick-rimmed glasses.
I didn’t take her hand, just shook my head. “He hasn’t, that’s the thing.”
She tilted her head. “So… he’s who he was.” Her brow furrowed.
I shook my head. “He isn’t withme.”
She exhaled. “Nina, sweetie.” She squeezed my shoulder. “You haven’t told me about before, but are you sure you’re not just seeing what you want?”
That stung. He’d pretended before. I traced the condensed water on the side of my cup. And yet, when he brushed my arm and said my name—it didn’t feel like a trick. The intensity in his blue eyes made me wonder if I was someone valuable rather than worthless. I didn’t know what to do with that.
“It’s so confusing, Lynnie.” I paused and met her gaze. “The way he looks at me… it makes me believe I’m important.”
“Youareimportant.”
Not tohim.The words were sharp and heavy in my mind, but I didn’t let them out. I just looked at Lynnie, her green eyes closer to brown as she leaned over the table, compassion oozing from her gaze.
I blew out a shaky breath, focusing on the streaks of flour on her apron. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
She moved away from me, opening the oven door with a decisive clang, then looked back over her shoulder at me. “Well, maybe you don’t need to know. Maybe you can let him figure this one out.”
“Do you think he’s just confused?” I asked, heart pounding. Maybe it’d be better if his memories returned and old Linc resurfaced, lashing out the way he used to, so I could go back to knowing what to expect from him.
