The restaurant I manage is particularly slow for a Friday night, so I’m hiding in the kitchen, eating bread that’s meant to go out to customers. Since we’re half empty, I’m sure we’d have some left over by the end of the night anyways.
I guess I could go home, leave the night to my wait staff and assistant manager, but there isn’t much to do there either.
“You eating bread on the clock?” One of the servers walks past me, laughing on his way to fill up a pitcher of water.
“I’m the manager, I can do whatever I want,” I grumble. “Plus, I’m bored.”
Once the pitcher is full, he walks by me again, sneaking a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. “You’re in luck, then. The to-go girl said she feels sick.”
I groan, eating another piece of bread. “Is she actually sick?”
He shrugs as he walks through the door that leads back out into the restaurant. “Hungover.”
I sigh, brushing my hands together over the half-eaten basket of bread. Well, at least this gives me something to do. Living in a small town, to-go orders do really well. I guess people don’t want their neighbors to see them sitting out at a restaurant five nights a week or something.
I tuck my hair behind my ears, then head out into the restaurant to find Tamara, my to-go girl.
“Hey,” I say to her. “I’ll cover for you. You’re good to clock out.”
She’s all sweaty, leaning against the register like it’s holding her up. “Oh my god, Penelope, really?”
I wave her off. “Yeah, been a while since I worked the counter. Go drink some water and get some rest.”
She smiles. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Before she walks away, I speak again. “Tamara? Don’t let it happen again, please.”
She nods quickly. “I swear, Penelope. Last time I’m ever drinking.”
I chuckle, knowing she’s just being dramatic. I was twenty-one once; I know how it feels to get so wasted that you can’t stand up the next day. A week passes and you’re back at the club like nothing ever happened.
Business picks up after my first thirty minutes working the to-go orders, and I actually feel myself having some fun. Sure, putting the manager hat on is great, but I miss being in the trenches sometimes.
I’m juggling three online orders and two call-ins when I hear something smash out in the restaurant, and when I turn around, I see one of the servers looking over a pile of dishes broken on the floor, food scattered around them.
I rush over, making sure everyone is okay, offer to comp the bill for the customers who just lost their dinner, then rush to the kitchen to push their order to the front of the line.
The kitchen staff hurries to start preparing the order again, and I go back out to reassure the customers it won’t be long. The bus boys are cleaning up the mess already, and it makes me feel like I’ve grown an efficient staff since I took over last year.
Thankfully, the customers are understanding, so after I’ve given them my superstar smile, I run to check on the server who had the accident.
I knock on the bathroom door, then poke my head in.
One of the younger girls is by the sink, her face a mess of tears while she scrubs the marinara from her shirt.
“Hey,” I say, stepping into the bathroom. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She sniffles, using a paper towel to try and get the stain out. “I feel so stupid. I just slipped.”
“It happens to all of us.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “I think I have another shirt in my office, hold on.”
As I’m rushing through the restaurant again, I hear the phone ringing at the to-go counter, and I curse under my breath. I pick it up, apologizing for the wait, take the order, punch it into the computer, then hang up.
“I wish I was back with my bread,” I mutter under my breath as I hurry to my office to grab a shirt.
After I’ve taken the server a shirt, I go back to the to-go counter and check on all my orders. I see a car waiting out at the curb, while another customer is walking in the front door and heading for me.
Time starts to blur together as I get through the rest of the late dinner rush. By the time it calms down, I’m covered in a thin layer of sweat, and I have a thick stack of tips tucked in my back pocket.
I take a minute to drink some water when I only have a couple of orders in the queue, leaning against the counter, and when I hear the door open, I straighten out again.
Turning to look over the counter at the customer, I almost swallow my tongue and fall on my ass at the same time.
“Holy fuck,” I blurt without thinking, coming face to face with Hayden Monroe.
He laughs, his face turning red. If he’s feeling anything that I’m feeling right now, he’s extremely good at masking it, because I want to run for my life. My throat swells, and I can’t get myself to say anything else to him. I just stand there, staring, my mouth dropped open like a fish out of water.
He clears his throat. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
My heart is pounding under my ribs, and the blood is rushing so fast in my ears, it’s making me dizzy. I swallow, shaking my head a little to bring myself back to the present. “Um, yeah.”
He’s aged – the rugged handsomeness that used to give him boyish features has blossomed into model good looks. A light stubble covers his jaw, and his hair is longer on top. I want to scratch his eyes out; he doesn’t deserve to be so attractive after what he did to me.
Silence consumes us again, and the noise of the restaurant falls away behind me.
I start to feel like we’re in a wind tunnel, air rushing around us and keeping us confined to the same space – and it’s suffocating.
After a minute, I take a breath. “What are you doing here?”
He twists his fingers together. “I’m picking up an order.”
I shake my head, trying my best to look at the computer screen, when all I want to do is look at him, get lost in the dark eyes that once felt like home to me. “I don’t have an order for you.”
“Oh,” he says. “I think it’s under Serena.”
Fire licks at my spine, and the words leave my lips before I can stop them. “That your girlfriend?”
He chuckles, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “My assistant.”
“Oh,” I say, going red as I stare at the screen pretending to look for his order.
“You always were the jealous kind,” he muses, chuckling again.
My head snaps up, and my eyes find his. “I’m engaged.”
He sighs, putting a hand on the counter to tap his fingers impatiently. “Is my order ready?”
As I nod, a wave of embarrassment washes over me. “I’ll go grab it.”
I rush to the kitchen before I can hear his response, wondering if he’s watching me walk away, and I fall against the wall in the kitchen and put my hands on my knees. My chest heaves, and I try my best to catch my breath as anxiety washes over me.
It’s been four years and change since I’ve seen Hayden – and nothing could have prepared me for the moment I came face to face with my best mistake again.
“You okay, Penelope?” one of the guys that works in the kitchen calls over to me, and I stand up straight and take a breath.
“I’m fine.” I take one more deep breath and walk across the kitchen. “Do you have an order for Serena ready to go?”
He points at the counter I’m standing at. “Right in front of you.”
I grab it. “Thanks.”
“You sure you’re good, boss?” he asks, setting down the spoon in his hand. “You look pale.”
I shake my head, laughing under my breath. “Just seeing ghosts.”
“Okay…” he says after I’ve turned around and started walking away. “Let me know if we need to do an exorcism.”
I laugh, pushing out into the restaurant and walking to the to-go counter again. Hayden is right where I left him, and he meets my gaze when I come into view. I put the bag down on the counter. “Here you go. Have a good night.”
His lips twitch. “Should I pay you?”
“Oh, um,” I mutter. “Don’t worry about it.”
At this point, I just want him to leave. I just want to breathe easy again.
“Okay…” He drags the word out, grabbing the bag. “Thanks, P.”
My stomach drops, and I want to throw up. “Don’t call me that.”
His brow furrows. “What?”
Swallowing over the dryness in my throat, I shake my head and look down at my feet. “Don’t call me that like you know me. We’re strangers.”
He sighs, putting the bag on the counter again. “I’m sorry.”
When I look at him again, he presses his lips together and sighs through his nose. “Look, I’m going to be in Luxington for a couple days… Can we have dinner or something? Catch up?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No way.”
“You could even bring your fiancé if you felt more comfortable,” he offers, staring at me.
I almost laugh thinking about Hayden meeting Gavin – they’re opposites in every way. Plus, Gavin has never heard anything about that part of my life, and no way am I going to introduce him to my ex-boyfriend/student who I did drugs with.
“No, thanks,” I say, keeping my composure. “Enjoy your time in Luxington.”
I make myself busy with the computer again, scrolling through outstanding orders over and over, and by the time I look back up, Hayden is walking away.
The rest of the night goes by in one big blur – it’s like I blink and it’s closing time. My mind is busy, my body feels heavy, and all I want to do is go home and drink two bottles of wine.
After tipping out the team, I count and close down the registers, then sit down in my office to get some paperwork done while everyone else heads home for the night. I shoot Gavin a message, telling him that I have some work to do after close and that I can’t see him tonight, then I power on my computer.
Gavin was a happy accident – literally. I rear ended him one day on the bridge that takes you out to the beach, and instead of an insurance claim, I got a date.
Things moved slow, and I didn’t share many intimate details about myself with him until recently. And even now, he doesn’t know much.
Losing both your parents, your career, and the man you love in the span of three months will close you up –I learned that the hard way.
I had just started working at the restaurant when we met, and it was nice to have something to do after work besides searching for my feelings inside of a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and a bottle of wine.
He’s… different.
That’s the only way to put it. He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever known. He doesn’t mind that I don’t share my secrets with him, or that I don’t want to live together yet, and he doesn’t mind that we have separate lives.
Maybe I’m stupid – maybe it isn’t normal, maybe I’ve grown so numb that having half of a relationship is all I can handle now.
I don’t know everything about him either; he’s just as closed off as I am, but it works.
For all I know, we’re both just as damaged as one another.
When he asked me to marry him, I didn’t have a reason to say no. What’s stopping me from making this my life? I don’t have my parents to lean on anymore, all my friends have their own lives now, and that’s the end of my list.
After an hour of inputting numbers and calculating expenses for the restaurant, I find myself yawning. I stretch my arms over my head to wake myself up, then I save all my work and shut down my computer.
My parents left me more in savings than I’ll ever need. I really don’t have to work a day in my life, as they made sure I was set up forever, but after sitting at home drinking for six months after my mom died suddenly, I needed something to keep me busy. I thought about leaving Luxington for a while, wanting to rid myself of the place that holds my worst memories, but I couldn’t make up my mind on somewhere new.
I guess I could have gone back to Washington, joined my friends in their lives, but shame was covering me after losing my career only a few months after it started.
I never spoke to anyone about what happened, about Hayden, and I don’t think I ever will. Luxington is small enough that some people know, but the school did a good job of covering it up – so it’s a one-off that I run into someone who knows my secrets.
Packing up my stuff, I throw my purse over my arm, then head for the door. Before I exit, I punch in the code for the alarm and wait for it to signal me to leave.
Once I’m outside, I lock the front doors and give them a good jiggle just in case. It’s deep into the night, nearing 1 a.m., and the air is chilly but refreshing.
I press the button to unlock my car and walk across the parking lot.
There’re a few more cars, but it isn’t unusual for people to drink too much with dinner and leave their cars here overnight, so I don’t think much of it. I’m blissfully unaware that I’m not alone until I hear a car door open behind me, and I spin around to see who it is.
Hayden is stepping out of a black Mercedes, and my stomach flips.
He walks across the lot just as I’m pulling my car door open and calls out my name to stop me from leaving. My entire body starts to burn, sweat kissing the back of my neck and my palms.
“Please, can’t we just talk?” he says as he walks up behind me, and I toss my purse inside my car before I turn around to look at him.
“We don’t have anything to talk about.”
He shakes his head, then tucks his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “That’s not true.”
I swallow thickly. “Well, I don’t have anything to say.”
“Then just listen while I talk,” he says, begging me with his eyes, then he points behind us. “Can you just come to the beach with me? Please?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Penelope, just one conversation.”
I sigh, finding his eyes again. I hate the part of me that still lights up for him, especially since it’s been dark since he left, like he took a slice of my heart with him and it isn’t until now that he’s let me have it back.
“Fine.” I wave a hand. “Lead the way.”
The restaurant is a block from the main beach, so I close my car door and follow behind him as he walks down the sidewalk.
Why am I doing this? What will I gain from this? More pain?
I hear the ocean before I see it, and the sound makes me feel sick. I haven’t been out here in years, I haven’t wanted to. It was always something that reminded me of either my parents or Hayden, and those aren’t topics I like to dig up.
Hayden kicks off his shoes once we hit the sand, then holds out a hand for me to use for balance so I can take mine off too. I don’t dare touch him; instead, I just keep walking, my shoes filling with sand as I go.
He sighs, but follows after me.
When we’re about ten feet from the water, I sit down in the soft sand before it turns shelly and damp, and he sits beside me.
The only noise to fill space is from the waves crashing in front of us, and the sound starts to make me feel emotional and scared. It’s too much, too familiar, too us.
“Why are you back here, Hayden?” I ask, looking out at the water.
“My dad is in the hospital.”
My stomach hurts, bad memories of my own return to Luxington five years ago pulsing through me. I press my fingers to my lips. “I don’t know if I should apologize or not.”
He chuckles, letting sand fall between his fingers playfully. “Me either.”
I want to ask him if he’s okay, if he needs anything, if I can do anything to help – but I don’t. I’m not that Penelope anymore, and he isn’t that Hayden. It isn’t my place to care about him.
“Tell me about your fiancé,” he says, and I can feel him looking at the side of my face.
Shaking my head, I sigh. “If you brought me here to fight, I’m going to leave now.”
“Am I starting a fight?” he asks, tilting his head in my peripheral. “I’m just asking about your life, P.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper, pressing my eyes closed.
He doesn’t say anything else, and when the silence becomes too much, I start talking again.
“His name is Gavin, he’s thirty-three, he works in real estate, we met a few years ago.”
“And you’re happy?” Hayden asks, his voice filled with emotion.
I run my fingers along the sand next to me, thinking over his question. When I finally answer, even I believe the words I’m saying. “As happy as I can be.”
“What does that mean?”
I chuckle. “I don’t think someone who’s been put through all that I have can ever really be happy. I’m just kind of… existing now.”
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, putting a hand down next to mine in the sand, but he doesn’t reach for me. “I’m so fucking sorry for everything that I did.”
My eyes well with tears, and I blink them back as I look the opposite way. “I know. I got your messages.”
“You never responded.”
“I didn’t have anything to say.” I shrug, looking at him finally.
“I regret what I did to you every day. I wish I could take it all back,” he whispers, his eyes locked with mine, nothing but sincerity shining through them. “I loved you so fucking much, I just didn’t know how to. I broke everything I touched back then.”
I look away again, not wanting to see him while he’s being so open and vulnerable.
“If it means anything at all, I really have changed, Penelope,” he says, toying with the sand. “I got help. I got sober.”
“That’s great, Hayden,” I say, and I mean it. “Really. But you did it too late. I’m still living the consequences of your actions.”
“We both made the decision to be together. You aren’t completely innocent in this, you know?”
I huff a laugh, then take a breath. “I’m not the one that got blackout drunk and told third period.”
“No,” he says, never looking away from me. “You’re not. I am. And I’ll live with that regret every day of my fucking life, but you knew being with me with a risk, and you still took it.”
I scoff, shaking my head as I stand up. “I’m not listening to this.”
“Penelope.” He jumps up, grabbing my hand. “Just fucking sit down.”
“No!” I shout. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Hayden. You fucking ruined us, you destroyed my life, you and no one else!”
Before I can even think, his lips are on mine, cutting off my shouts, and I pull back before the reminder of his kiss makes me melt into him. “Don’t.”
His hand finds my jaw, and his features fall into the grief I saw five years ago. “You’re the only person I’ve ever fucking loved, Penelope. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. If I could go back in time and change it, I would! But I can’t live one more day without you.”
My mind spins with confusion, shock, and a touch of pure panic.
“Stop it!” I yell, stepping back. “You can’t just come back into my life and shake it all up again! I am finally stable. I finally have a life.”
“A boring ass realtor fiancé and a job as a waitress?” he says, holding his arms out. “You could have more.”
“I could have had more! And being with you ruined it!” I scream, tears streaming down my face. “And you come back here, after all this time, and kiss me?! No! I am not yours anymore.”
He turns his head to the side, putting a finger just under the tattoo on his neck.
P
“Well, I’m yours. Always have been, always will be.”
My chest heaves, and I stand in front of him, trying to catch my breath.
“You didn’t get it covered up.”
He laughs. “Never.”
Part of me isn’t surprised by his words.
I shake my head, brushing the tears from my cheeks before I look at him again. “I’m going to go home.”
“Please stay with me,” he says, taking a small step toward me.
“I can’t,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Please don’t follow me, just let me go, Hayden.”
