“It’s not that deep, huh?” Liza returns. “Good to know.” She pushes off the wall, grabs an empty tray, and heads back into the kitchen.
I hang my head because I totally fucked that up, but there’s still time to recover. At least, I keep thinking there will be, but every time Liza returns to our table, she’s frosty as hell. I don’t blame her. This is an awkward situation, and we’re not an easy crew to manage. My dad actually snapped at her to get her attention and all three of my dining companions have returned a side dish or main course because it wasn’t cooked to their liking. There’s nothing wrong with the food, they just like being pains in the ass.
I’m going to need to do some major groveling when I get home tonight because this is bad. My dad's treating Liza the way he treats all waitstaff, which is to say, fucking awful. And Peyton is all the fuck over me like an octopus with tentacles. But once I explain, it's going to be fine. Liza knows how I feel about her even if I never said the words. She has to know. And someday, we'll look back at this and laugh—haha, remember that time we were dating, and I was in love with you but too much of a coward to admit it, and then my dad set me up on the date from hell and you were our waitress? Haha. Remember that? Good times.
28
Liza
Have you ever done something that seemed like a good idea at the time, but ended up being the worst decision in the history of the world? Because I have, and I don’t recommend it. When Blue was too tired to meet at the library this afternoon, I planned to study by myself and get ahead for the week. I made decent progress, but when I got a text from my manager saying the restaurant was short-staffed tonight and I could pick up some extra hours, I said yes without hesitation. I can always use the extra tip money, and since we have a rare night off from hockey, I figured I’d lucked out.
Boy, was I wrong.
I’ve been waitressing since I was fifteen years old, so I’ve had my fair share of difficult customers. I’ve served drunk guys and assholes. I’ve served whiny, clingy girlfriends.
But I’ve never served my own boyfriend while he was out with some other girl.
Until tonight.
I know Blue has reasons and excuses. I know he wants to explain the whole mess to me. He started blowing my phone up as soon as he left the restaurant. And ever since I got home halfan hour ago, he’s been following me around the house like a lost little puppy dog.
“I don’ t want to talk right now,” I tell him for what has to be the fifty-third time.
“You don’t have to talk,” Blue assures me. “Just let me explain.”
This isn’t going to end well. I know that. I can feel it. I’m mad, and if Blue and I try to have a conversation right now, I’m going to end up saying things I’ll regret. But I’m also done convincing him that now isn’t the time to hash things out. If he’s dead-set on saying his piece, then I’m going to let him. “Fine,” I say, flopping onto the couch and realizing we’ve got ourselves an audience. “Say what you need to say.” All the guys who were playing video games or pretending to study have stopped. They’re not even trying to be subtle. They’re sitting back and watching the show.
Blue blinks at me, stunned that after all my protests, I’m giving him the time and space to say what’s on his mind. “Okay, well, tonight did not go according to plan,” he begins.
A collective groan echoes around the room. If someone’s keeping score, Blue’s got to be in the negative numbers.
“It didn’t go according to plan?” I scoff. “Let me guess, you didn’t plan to bring your girlfriend to my restaurant? Or you didn’t plan on me getting stuck with your table.”
“None of it was supposed to go down that way, I swear.” He’s practically kneeling in front of me, begging my forgiveness, but I’m not sure he understands exactly what went wrong.
Then what the hell happened?” I ask. “Because I told you my fears about us getting together, making this official, and you kept insisting that I worry too much. You promised never to hurt me. You swore that I could trust you and that I didn’t need to be constantly looking up, waiting for the sky to fall. Well, that’s laughable now because it all came tumbling down at my fucking place of employment tonight.”
“I swear, Liza, the sky isn’t falling. Yeah, tonight was crazy, and I feel really bad, but it’s not the huge deal you’re making?—”
I know he thinks he's helping. In his head, that was a smart thing to say. In reality, though, it was dumb as shit. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? I was the hired help tonight. And that’s fine. I like my job and I’m good at it, but I don’t want to serve your father, a man who makes it clear he thinks I’m beneath you. Did I love serving you while you were on a fucking date. No, Blue. No I did not.”
“I keep telling you it wasn’t a date,” he argues.
“It sure as hell looked like one. She had her hands all over you. How would you feel if you walked into the dining hall some day and found me in a similar situation? I’m guessing you wouldn’t be as understanding then. And even if this was a set up, even if your dad conned you into going there and having dinner with the goddamn bachelorette, you didn’t have to stay.”
“I didn’t want to, but?—”
“You chose to stay,” I tell him plainly. “You chose expectation over me. You keep saying it wasn't a big deal. It’s just a hoop he makes you jump through, one I’ll never find out about, so no harm, no foul. How long is that gonna last? Are you going to miss our anniversary someday because your dad wants to meet for lunch? How long can you keep the two parts of your life separate and what does it say about your fucked up situation that you have to.
“You’re right,” Blue says, resigned. “I’ll call my dad tomorrow No, you know what? I’ll call him right now and let him know how out of line he was. I’ll let him know that?—”
Blue is reaching for his phone, but I put my hand out to stop him. “It’s too late for that. The time to say that was the second you saw who was sitting at the table—the moment you realized you were there to play a role. You should have said something then, walked away. You should have stood up for us.”
He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t know you were there. I didn’t know you were working tonight.”
It’s a good thing I’m already sitting down, or Blue’s words would have knocked me on my ass. I can feel my heart breaking like there’s an actual gaping wound in my chest. “Oh, Blue. That’s the problem. You can’t just think about me when I’m in the room. You can’t come to my defense only if I’m around to hear it. I deserve so much better than that, anyone does. I deserve someone who’s thinking about me even when I’m miles away. Someone who’s not afraid for the world to know he belongs to me and I belong to him.”
“You do, Liza,” he pleads. “You do belong to me. You matter more. It’s just?—”
