Live.
A spatula clatters to the countertop, making me flinch.
“What the actual fuck?” Alex shoots me a death glare from the kitchen, his back rippling, shoulders drawn tight. “Why are you just standing there? Move!”
Hot tears lance my eyes as I scramble to catch up. “Sorry. I’m moving.”
Plastering on a fake smile, I grab a tray and pivot back to the dining area.
There is frustrated, mean Alex, and there is kind, attentive Alex.
As the days press on and the hours at the restaurant grow longer and more tiresome, the man I love with all my heart—since the day we played in the sand together at the neighborhood park—becomes a man I don’t even know anymore.
The good and bad days bleed together, the bad outshining the sweeter moments, eclipsing the late-night cuddle fests and long talks over cheap Moscato, and erasing all the glorious, defining moments along the way.
I’m in a constant state of grieving, and grief on its own is hard enough. But when grief masquerades as guilt, there is no telling the damage it will do.
That’s why I stay.
That’s why I’ll always stay.
***
Alex is on break behind the restaurant, puffing on a cigarette as he leans back against the timeworn, ruddy brick. When he spots me, he lets out a long sigh and flicks ashes to the cement. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply, zipping up my puffer coat. “Are you okay?”
“Another day, another dollar.” He blows out a smoky breath. “Sorry I lost my shit on you. It’s been a morning.”
“I understand.”
“You good?”
Nodding, I cross my arms to counter the chill in the air. “Yeah. My shift is up. I’ll be back for tonight’s dinner service.”
“Need a ride?”
“Uber is on the way.”
“Cool.” Alex studies me under the overcast sky, his pale-green irises gleaming with suppressed emotion. Then he swallows, glances down at his gray performance sneakers. “You did good today. Caught back up like a champ.”
My lips pucker as I peer up at the overhead signage:Charlie Barker’s. The name is a nod to his old family dog, a lanky labrador retriever who lived till he was sixteen years old. Alex always had big dreams of owning a restaurant—one he took over from his father after his parents moved out of the country—but now I don’t think he loves it like he used to. The culmination of stress, debt, and dwindling free time is swallowing his already fractured soul, adding enormous strain to our relationship. It’s a burden. A headache with no relief in sight. And when dreams become a curse, they lose their luster, turning into something he’s stuck with rather than something honorable he’s worked for.
“Thanks,” I murmur, gnawing on my lip. “Maybe we can start that new show after we close up tonight. The thriller one.”
“Yeah, sounds good. The freezer is stocked with your favorite ice cream.”
“It’s a date.” I smile a little sadly. “Well, I’m taking off. I’ll see you later.”
“Are you headed home?”
“In a bit. I’m pet-sitting for one of my old neighbors.” Not technically a lie. “I’ll probably get a nap in before I circle back here at four.”
His eyes narrow with a trace of suspicion before he shakes it off. “All right. Have fun.”
I pivot to leave, but his voice pulls me back.
“Annalise.”
