“In a nutshell, the servers are down. So I can’t work.”
He nods. “Sorry, Peyton. It’ll work out.”
Easy for him to say. He has a job. One he starts in two weeks.
But I simply nod, not wanting to get into it.
“Was there more?” he asks.
“More what?”
“To the conversation. That wasn’t an eleven-minute conversation.”
“I had to pee. Fix my hair and stuff.”
He nods, still studying me.
“What’s with the questions?”
He looks a little angry. “Just trying to make conversation.”
I nearly bite out that he should go talk to Tabitha, but instead I say, “Unnecessary.”
We fall into silence again. He keeps staring at me while I try to eat.
Tabitha returns. I grip my butter knife like I’m ready to stab her in the eye.
“Need anything else, sugar?”
Daltyn’s eyes are on me. “Sweetheart. You need anything?”
I glance up at him, bewildered. He’s staring at me.
“Since when am I sweetheart?”
Those blue eyes pierce me like a knife. “You need anything?”
There’s so much I could say, but it’s not worth it. I don’t feel like playing whatever game he has going on today.
“Another coffee, please. In a to-go cup.”
Tabitha nods stiffly, then turns back to Daltyn. “What about you, sugar?”
He shakes his head, and she leaves.
“Peyton.” He leans closer, his voice tinged with anger. “What’s going on with you?”
“With me?” My voice rises. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“Prop your ankle. Then talk to me.”
“Oh, now you’re worried about my ankle?”
“Of course I am. I’ve been worried.”
I glare at him. “Oh, yes. I see that.” Sarcasm drips from my tone.
Tabitha comes over with my coffee and the check. “If you’re ready, I can take your card.”
