“Growing up as an only child, my parents were my best friends. They were complete workaholics, but no matter how busy they were, they always made time for me. We were like the Three Musketeers.”
Jake eyes me carefully. I can tell he’s doing his best to tread lightly, to not push too hard on a wound that’s still so raw.
“Is it hard living in the apartment by yourself now?”
Yes,my heart replies. “Sometimes. But unlike my dad, I’m not willing to just pack up and move on.” My stomach twists as I wonder how long it will be before Jake takes off again. After all, he’s a musician; traveling is an inevitable part of the gig.
When the waitress brings the bill to our table, she leans forward slightly to speak to Jake quietly.
“I’m so sorry, but there are a few paparazzi out front.” She frowns as she tilts her head toward the glass windows. Sure enough, half a dozen men dressed in various shades of black are lingering outside, cameras hanging from thick black straps around their necks.
“Just want to let you know, in case you want to stagger your exit.”
Jake grimaces. “Thank you,” he says, handing her a credit card. When he faces me again, his eyes are remorseful.
“I hate that I put you in this position,” he sighs. “I thought we’d be safe from the paparazzi here.”
“What does she mean by ‘stagger our exit’?” I ask.
“It means that unless you want to be featured on TMZ tomorrow morning, we should probably leave the restaurant separately.”
“Does it really matter if the press spot us together? I mean, I’m a nobody. They aren’t going to care about me.”
Jake clenches his jaw, and a line deepens on his forehead. “Trust me, Lexi, it would become a big deal.”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, my phone buzzes with an incoming text. Ethan’s name pops up on the screen.
“Is that your boyfriend?”
I flick my eyes upward, taken aback by the change in Jake’s tone, and I notice his shoulders have tensed.
“No, I’m not… he’s a coworker. The pastry chef at my restaurant.” I shove the phone into my purse, but I can feel Jake’s eyes trained on me. “Listen, I need to run to the market. This was great, though. Thanks for showing me around.”
“No, thankyou,” he says, and the lines in his face mercifully soften. “For coming today. For letting me show you a little piece of my world.”
“Of course. I’ll see you back at the apartment later?”
Jake nods. I walk around to his side of the table, pulling him infor a quick hug. His familiar smell, clean and warm as ever, comforts me as it fills my nostrils. I feel his eyes on my back as I make my way to the front of the restaurant, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face as I push my way through the glass doors and step out into the street. I’m still grinning as I walk past the unsuspecting paparazzi.
14
DINNER SERVICE BEGINS AT5P.M.the following evening. Most customers who arrive at this hour come for an after-work drink with friends or a quick bite to eat before heading off to the theater, so the first hour of my shift is light. We send out two orders of spicy feta and chickpea crostini, three orders of our signature fig and olive tapenade, and half a dozen olive oil and crostini samplers.
But an hour and a half later, the dining room has started to get loud. The kitchen pulses with heat, and my body feels slick beneath my white jacket. I take a quick slug of water from my canteen and push back a sticky strand of hair that’s slipped out from beneath my toque. Across the room, printers buzz with a fresh flurry of order tickets.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Ethan’s suddenly at my elbow, smiling at me earnestly. “Just wanted to tell you I had a great time the other night.”
“Me too!” I respond a little too brightly. “It was a lot of fun.”
“I’m actually off this Thursday too,” he continues. “I was thinking we could go to Eataly and walk around the bakery. Maybe do a little wine tasting.”
It sounds like an incredible way to spend the day; Eataly is oneof my favorite spots in the city. But I can’t ignore the hesitation pulling at my thoughts.
“Listen, Ethan,” I hedge. “I think you’re a really great guy, and I enjoyed our date—”
“But,” he supplies. The corner of his mouth rises in a half smile. “Sorry, I was sensing a ‘but.’”
“But,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “I’ve seen my, um, ex again. We’re not getting back together, but… it’s complicated right now. And it wouldn’t be fair to you.” Ethan’s expression falls, but he collects himself quickly.
