“No, really.” Her smile widened. “Use it to buy some common sense and realize Rome is just playing with you.”
Her friend laughed. A nasty little sound.
Heat crawled up my neck, and I hated that too. “Anything else?” I asked again. Because if I said anything more, I wasn’t sure I could keep my voice calm.
Brandi picked up the ice cream and looked around again. “Rome always did like charity cases.”
My stomach twisted.
Her friend covered her mouth like she was trying not to laugh.
I stared at Brandi. For a second, I saw the woman from the clubhouse. The one who touched Rome while my hand was in his. The one who looked at me and said, Her?
The one who knew exactly where to aim and didn’t care how hard she hit.
“You know,” I said carefully, “if you don’t want the ice cream, I’m not sure why you came in here.”
Brandi’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I want it.” She lifted the spoon and took a tiny bite, then made a face. “It’s sweet.”
I blinked. “It’s ice cream.”
Her friend laughed again.
I was officially done with both of them.
Brandi shifted the cup to her other hand, and I saw a white smear on her palm.
Her friend grabbed her arm. “Come on, this place smells like sugar. I already feel like I gained five pounds just being here.”
Brandi laughed and turned toward the door. Before she walked out, she looked back at me. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
The bell dinged behind them, and the door shut.
And I stood there, frozen behind the counter, staring at the empty space where they’d been.
Fat.
Charity case.
Rome is just playing with you.
I grabbed the five-dollar bill from the counter and crumpled it in my fist. Then I shoved it into the trash. Hard.
“Professional,” I muttered.
I hated that Brandi could walk in for five minutes and make me feel like I was back in Bruce’s kitchen listening to him explain that he was only trying to help when he suggested we eat a salad.
We.
He always said we. Then he’d order pizza and make a joke when I grabbed a slice.
I cleaned the counter where Brandi had stood. Then I cleaned it again. Then I washed the scoop she’d used even though it hadn’t touched anything but vanilla.
At seven-forty, I started closing early tasks. I refilled the napkins, wiped tables, swept beneath the front chairs, and checked the freezer lids. Every few seconds my eyes darted toward the windows, worried Brandi was going to stroll back in.
At eight o’clock, the bell dinged again.
I jumped and then Rome walked in. Everything in me loosened and tightened at the same time.
