Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ida smiled as I walked into her office. “I’m eager to hear all about these dates,” she said.
It was snowing outside, the snowflakes covering my hair and dampening my jacket. I pulled off my gloves one by one and shrugged.
“There’s not much to tell.”
She shot me a disbelieving look, but didn’t push. “Do you have a lot to work with for the chapter at least?”
“Can we talk about literally anything else?” I groaned. “I feel like all I do nowadays is talk about Aiden. If I keep this up, I’ll come into class next time with a peacoat, black coffee, and a Murakami novel tucked under my arm.”
She laughed. “I thought you two were getting along better?”
“We are . But … I don’t know.” It was getting confusing. I was more attracted to Aiden now than when I’d had my brief crush after the reading because now I knew him. I found myself wanting to spend time with him; I was still mad at him for how he had acted all semester, but not mad enough to want to destroy him like before. “It’s complicated.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “How are you two on the deadline for midterms at the end of the month? Are you on track?”
“I think so. We have a little way to go now that the romance is picking up. I want Max and Hunter to at least kiss before the halfway point.”
Ida nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. It’d add some yearning and tension to your chapters. Did you have a chapter you wanted me to look at?”
“I wrote our latest date out with Max and Hunter. I also was able to cut down my fellowship submission, but now I’m worried I’ve cut too much.”
She waved me off. “That’s fixable. Let’s start with the chapter, and we’ll finish off with the other.”
I shared my docs with her, and we went over them for the next hour. I loved having Ida all to myself like this, being able to pick her brain on anything. She was just as eager to talk about romance as I was. I’d spent so much time secretly loving romance and reading as many books as I could with no one to talk to, but now I had someone who loved it just as much as I did. Who understood it even more than I did and was helping me develop my work. In moments like this, it felt like everything was coming up Rosie.
Saturday, I had the apartment all to myself since Alexa worked the weekend shift at the Hideout. Her shift didn’t end until around ten, but with closing duties I didn’t expect her home any sooner than midnight.
I had very exciting plans for my Saturday night in New York City. I had my favorite soft, white blanket and a new romance novel. I was settled on my bed with Taylor Swift playing quietly on my phone.
My phone started to buzz, but I ignored it, turning the page. I tried to focus on the words in front of me, but it buzzed again. And again.
I reached for it on the nightstand; Alexa’s face was flashing on the screen.
I frowned. “Everything okay?” The sound of chatter and music overwhelmed even me from the other side. “Alexa?”
“Is there any way you can come down tonight?” Alexa’s voice was wobbling. “Marianne called in sick, but she has the rush shift, so it’s only four hours but we’re short staff—”
“Marianne doesn’t work at the bar though, why do you need me?”
“Can you come … wait tables?” she pleaded. “Luke asked me to beg you. We’re overbooked, and everyone and their mother decided to visit New York for the holidays.”
I stared longingly at my book, hesitant to leave it.
“You’re guaranteed to make at least double your usual tips tonight. People tip better this time of year.”
“Fine,” I ground out. I was close to reaching my goal in savings so I could buy my ticket home, but not quite there yet. And I needed the money sooner than later because the price of the tickets went up every minute. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“I fucking love you,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Yeah, yeah, see you in a few.” I tossed the phone on my bed and pulled open my closet. I quickly changed into my uniform before heading out into the cold.
There was a line out the door of people just waiting to speak to our hostess. Plenty of people were also littered across the sidewalk, buzzers in their hands. There were Christmas trees on either side of the entrance and garland hanging low overhead.
I had to push through the crowd to get to our hostess stand. When the hostess, Janie, spotted me, she sighed out of relief. “Thank God you’re here, I don’t know what to do.” Wrinkles were lining her forehead, her voice crumbling.
I gave her a sympathetic smile. “Just keep seating people but let them know how long the wait is. Take it one guest at a time, okay?” I said gently. She nodded her head, her bottom lip wobbling. “Have you seen Alexa?”
“Last I saw she was entering tickets by the kitchen.”
I hadn’t been to the restaurant on weekends yet. It was a madhouse. Every table was full and every seat at the bar was occupied. On weekdays, there was usually a dull hum of conversation in the restaurant, but it sounded like music now. The clinking glances harmonized with the laughter from across the room and it was suffocating.
After I ducked in the back to clock in, I found Alexa placing plates on her tray. Her black hair was in disarray and her tie was crooked. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
“I love you,” she said immediately.
“What table is this for?” I asked. “I can bring it, go take a minute.”
“Wow, I really love you. Table six.”
She handed off the tray and rushed toward the dry storage room. When I was first hired here, I was adamant about only being a bartender, even though Luke had tried to convince me to wait tables. Back home, I worked at our local diner, where I’d quickly learned how to find peace amongst the chaos. I knew how to handle the angriest customers and fall into a rhythm with the chefs.
One time here at the Hideout, one time, I filled in for a waitress and after that Luke begged me to switch to waitressing. He said, almost in awe, “Rosie, I think you were born to work in the restaurant industry.” I did love it while I was in the flow of it all, but no amount of tips could convince me to deal with jerk customers every weekend.
I’d only been at the restaurant for five minutes, and I already reeked of garlic and cheese. I stared longingly at my bar, wishing to be behind it. But I continued to wait on Alexa’s tables until she came back and explained the situation to me.
“Marianne is scheduled for that corner of the restaurant. I’ve got most of their orders so far, but they don’t have food yet.”
“What about drinks?”
“Fuck.” Her face paled. “I knew I forgot something.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll fix it. It’ll be fine.”
I spent the next three and a half hours running around the restaurant, delivering food, and spilling plenty of drinks on myself. Every time I asked the bar for a drink, I thought about begging one of the tenders to switch with me, but I wouldn’t inflict the hell that is food service on anyone.
Even though the holiday season had officially started, the customers weren’t acting like it. They’d send food back, complaining it wasn’t to their standards, and more than one server complained about tables giving shitty tips.
Finally, finally, the closing waitress came in to switch off our shifts. I began to pull my tie off, but something caught my eye. A peacoat.
Aiden was here. He and an older man were being seated in my section. This must have been his father. They had the same square jaw and angular nose, and they were around the same height. But where Aiden had gorgeous, full dark hair, the man’s was graying. Lighter strands peppered around the nape of his neck and into his beard. Both of them were dressed in finely pressed suits, Aiden’s peacoat hanging off the back of his chair.
“You ready to get out of here?” Lisa asked. She was straightening her tie and reaching for the notebook in the pocket of her apron.
I nodded but continued to watch Aiden. His back was turned toward me, but I could see his dad clear as day. Like Aiden, he didn’t smile. He seemed to have permanent frown wrinkles by his mouth, quickly spitting out angry words. Aiden still had his perfect posture, but it looked like every muscle in his body was tensed in defense.
“Actually, I can take this last table,” I told Lisa, my eyes not leaving Aiden. I knew I shouldn’t have interfered, but when Aiden’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his glass, I couldn’t help it. “Why don’t you grab some food from the kitchen before your shift?”
Before she could answer, I stalked off toward Aiden.
“You’ve proved your point and had your fun,” Mr. Huntington scolded. “It’s time you quit and—”
“Hi,” I interrupted. I smiled down at them, my ponytail swaying slightly behind me.
Aiden’s head jerked up from the menu to meet my gaze. “Rosie?”
He blinked up at me, dumbstruck, as if he couldn’t believe he was seeing me. I knew now was not the time to gloat about how I was the taller one for once, but man, I really wanted to.
“Hey,” I said softly. I turned to Aiden’s dad. “Hi, Mr. Huntington, I’m Rosie. I have a class with Aiden, but I’ll be your server tonight.” He only hummed and picked up his menu. I glanced at Aiden, and he was watching me with a look I couldn’t discern. “What can I get started for you guys?”
Aiden spoke quickly, his words in clipped sentences like always. But I could hear the distress and the strain in every syllable, and my mind flashed to the little boy alone in the subway car.
“I’ll take the steak, cupcake,” Mr. Huntington said, his eyes never straying from my chest. “Medium rare.”
“For your sides?” I asked, scribbling it down.
“What, you gotta write all that down to remember? That’s what you go to that big, fancy school for?” Mr. Huntington looked to Aiden to share a laugh, but Aiden’s jaw was clenched. He turned away from his father and to me with an apology in his eyes.
“Your sides,” I prompted flatly.
I thought Aiden was bad, but I’d take him every time over his father. Back home, men often called me “sweetheart” or “sweet cheeks,” which was horrible, but preferable over the demeaning way Mr. Huntington had reduced me to nothing but a servant.
“I’ll be back in a little while with the food.” I snapped my black notebook shut and slipped it into my apron. “In the meantime, let me know if y’all need anything.” I gave Aiden a kind smile for the first time in my life and went to enter their tickets.
As I waited for the kitchen to finish up the food, I kept my eyes on Aiden and his father. Aiden took quick sips of his water, just like he had on our first date when silence fell between us. He looked nervous now—had he been nervous then?
Finally, their food was ready. Neither of them spoke as I set the plates in front of them, adjusting their utensils and drinks accordingly. Just as I was about to leave, Aiden’s father stopped me.
“Cupcake, what class do you take with Aiden?”
My gaze slid over to Aiden. He looked straight ahead, his jaw clenched.
I smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “Is this a trick question?”
His father’s glare sent shivers down my back. “No.”
My smile dropped quickly, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “We’re in a fiction workshop that preps us for our thesis.”
Surprisingly, he asked, “Is it fun?”
I blinked at him. I looked to Aiden for help, but his face remained stoic. “I mean, sure. It’s still class, but I think whenever you do something you love, it’s fun.”
“Ah.” His father leaned back in his chair. “So, it’s not about forming a career?” He looked eerily similar to Aiden as he did this. That coldness Aiden presented was obviously inherited from this man. Every word seemed to be calculated to drive home some point.
“Writing is a career,” I said tersely.
“Please.” His father’s laugh was humorless. It was more like a cough than anything. “Even if you get published—and that’s a big if—do you really think you’ll make enough money and be successful enough to write day in and day out?”
This thought had always lingered in the back of my mind. Of course I wanted to be able to write full time, but it was rarer these days. But there was no way I would admit that to him. “Yes. I do.”
“You write novels, you said. What kind?”
“Dad—”
“I write romance.” I lifted my chin. Maybe a few months ago I would’ve mumbled it or just said fiction. But I’d had enough tonight. I was tired of every needy customer and the Huntington men’s judgment.
“Oh.” His father sat back in his chair, waving his hand at me dismissively. “Well, then, never mind. That’s different.”
“Dad,” Aiden warned.
“I don’t want Aiden to be a writer, but at least there’s a bit of a challenge to what he writes. You’ll have no trouble getting published. I’ll buy your book next time I’m at CVS.” He sniffed.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Aiden snapped. He narrowed his eyes dangerously at his father, but Mr. Huntington ignored him. I had seen Aiden mad plenty of times over the past year, but never quite like this.
My lips parted in shock, fire igniting in me. “Listen, just because—”
“Oh, c’mon,” Mr. Huntington said. “Write those bodice rippers, make your quick buck, and slip your change into my kid’s cup when he’s living out of a box.”
Aiden’s been rude but he’s never quite dismissed me like this. If Mr. Huntington was rude to a total stranger, what was he saying to his own son?
“Aiden is extremely talented,” I started, placing my hands on my hips.
“Rosie, you don’t have to,” Aiden said pleadingly, looking down at the table and shaking his head.
“No, Aiden. He doesn’t know—”
“Really.” Aiden finally looked at me, and I saw what he was hiding in those eyes. Annoyance. Anger. Fatigue. “It’s okay.”
Taking the hint, I nodded and turned on my foot away from them. I curled my hands into fists, digging the nails into my palm. I’d known what Aiden’s father was doing, and I played right into his hand. Now I’d probably made things worse for Aiden.
“Woah, who pissed you off?” Alexa came up behind me. She followed my gaze to Aiden and his father. “Who’s that?”
“Aiden.”
“Your Aiden? Peacoat Aiden?” she asked, craning her head to get a better look at him.
“Yes.”
“A su madre, Rosie. He’s hot . Tell me again why you haven’t hit that?”
“Shut up.” I shook my head. “His dad’s being a dick.”
She arched an eyebrow. “To you or to Aiden?”
“Me. Him. Both.” I stretched out my fingers, watching Aiden and his father. His dad was cutting his steak in sharp movements, angrily piercing it with his fork. But Aiden only sat in front of his untouched chicken and pasta. It didn’t matter that Aiden was my worst enemy; no one got to talk to him like that.
Except me, obviously.
They were arguing now. Aiden spoke in quick, quiet words, but his father spoke in sharp angles, spit flying out with every word. It was so sad to watch someone you viewed as larger than life shrink into themselves under someone else’s thumb. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure,” Alexa sang. “You know, you’re free to go.”
I looked at her nervously from the corner of my eye. “Oh. Yeah, for sure. I think I’ll just finish this last table—”
“Aiden’s table?”
“I’m just worried,” I said defensively. “He’s casually mentioned his relationship with his father a few times and it doesn’t seem great.” I nodded over at their table. “ Obviously .”
Alexa nodded thoughtfully. “That’s really nice, Rosie, but what can you do? Luke’s been singing your praises all night, but you know if we get a bad review because you’re mean to Aiden’s dad, he’ll blow his top off.”
I bit my lip. “I’m just going to keep an eye on them.”
I spent the next half hour dawdling by their table, refilling bread baskets and waters. Lisa eventually took over the other tables because she needed the hours, but I insisted on finishing off Aiden’s table.
I was standing by our ticket system as Alexa was telling me a story from earlier tonight about some hot girl she waited on. I was biting the nail on my thumb when Aiden’s shoulders tensed. They went straight back, and his hands found their way to the table, folded.
“Do you have Aiden’s ticket?” I interrupted her.
“Are they done?”
“Can you print it?” I looked back at them, and his father was leaning across the table now, slowly getting redder in the face. I couldn’t help but think about the way Aiden had said his mom needed saving from his dad. Maybe Aiden needed saving, too. “Quickly.”
I snatched the ticket from the printer, almost ripping it in half in the process. I rushed over to their table and plastered a smile on my face. Almost instantly, Aiden’s father stopped speaking.
“Hi, I just thought I’d bring your check over.”
Mr. Huntington frowned. “We didn’t ask for it.”
“Oh,” I said, gripping the black book tightly in my hand. “We have a reservation for this table in thirty minutes, and we need to get it prepared.”
Mr. Huntington made a point to look at the empty tables surrounding him as the night died down. “Just leave it there, we’ll get to it soon.”
I gave an apologetic smile. “I was actually hoping to go ahead and get your payment now, so we can begin the process of setting up for our reservation. We have a time limit for each table because of this.”
His face hardened, like he wanted me to back down. I held his gaze, not letting up. For a second, I thought he’d say no—or worse, ask for Luke. Instead, he shook his head and placed his card in the book. He spared Aiden a glance. “You’re welcome for the meal.”
I snatched the book up and hurried through his payment process. While I was away from the table, Mr. Huntington looked like he was picking up where he left off.
“Come on,” I urged our machine.
“You know”—Alexa peered over my shoulder—“you’re doing a lot for someone you claim to hate.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh huh.” She smiled and walked away, balancing her tray on her arms.
I snatched the receipt and rushed off. When I returned with the black book, I handed it to Mr. Huntington.
“Thank you guys again for coming in.”
As Mr. Huntington hastily signed the receipt, probably ignoring the tip line, he said, “Well, son, we can continue this conversation over a cup of coffee.”
My gaze flew to Aiden’s. He didn’t react, just gave a terse nod. And I couldn’t help it, I wanted to save him. I hated the hurt look he was trying so desperately to hide but that showed in the wrinkle in between his eyebrows and the way his hands curled into fists. It broke my heart into tiny pieces, knowing that this man was making the terror of my Wednesdays feel so small.
“Actually.” I laughed softly, cocking out my hip, trying to seem as casual as I didn’t feel. “I absolutely hate to interrupt this little father–son date, but I was wondering if I could borrow Aiden for an hour or two? I need help with something for class—midterms are coming up and all that.”
His father narrowed his eyes at me. “Isn’t it just writing? What could you possibly need Aiden for?”
“I’m her critique partner.” Aiden cleared his throat. “I need to look over her work before she turns in her midterm.”
“Fine.” He stood up and began to tug on his jacket. “This conversation isn’t over, son.”
“Thanks for coming to the Hideout,” I called after him as he stalked off. I turned to Aiden, whose head was cradled in his hands on the table. His eyes were clasped shut, tension residing over him like a disease. Carefully, I set a hand on his shoulder, feeling the hard lines of his body beneath his suit, hoping I was being comforting at the very least. “Are you okay?”
At the sound of my voice, he sat up straight, like he’d just remembered I was standing there. He shook his head, wiping any signs of distress away as he faced me and said, “Thank you. For all of that. You didn’t have to do that.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Aiden exhaled, short and quick. “I’ll let you finish your shift.”
I rubbed the edges of my apron between my fingers. “Oh, uh, I actually finished my shift a while ago. I was just …” I trailed off, heat rising to my cheeks.
Aiden blinked slowly. “You stayed for me?”
“It’s not a big deal.” The words fumbled out of my mouth, tripping over each other. “Bless his heart, but your dad’s kind of a dick. No offense.”
Aiden Huntington had the audacity to smile at that. A real smile, the smile that I’d spent months secretly craving was here now, in full force. Crooked nose, crooked smile. Aiden Huntington was every romance reader’s favorite daydream.
“None taken.” He stood from the table, and I followed his gaze until he did so. He was looming over me and a pressure formed in my stomach at the intensity of his eyes. My mouth turned dry, but I couldn’t force myself to look away. He hesitated only slightly before saying, “Let me buy you dinner.”
My eyes widened. I started to shake my head, but he held his hand up.
“I owe you that. I promise, no candlelit Italian places.”
A shy smile spread across my face and I shook my head. “I won’t make you do that. It’s okay. Besides, you just ate, and I’d feel weird sitting there the whole time while you ate nothing.”
He squinted at me and it was almost … playful. “You look like the kind of girl who can’t refuse ice cream.”
I groaned. “Am I that easy to read?”
“My treat,” he insisted. “I owe you.”
I hesitated but caught Alexa’s eye over his shoulder. She was nodding aggressively and basically shooing me out of the store. “Okay,” I said finally. “Meet you out front?”
It was a known fact that New York in the winter was intolerable. The piercing wind caught between the skyscrapers, and the people, just as cold and calculated, didn’t care. I’d developed a thick skin and braced myself against the city, knowing that when it came down to it, I was truly by myself.
But walking around with Maxine, the city felt different. The sidewalks and concrete buildings grew warmer with every step, like someone had lit the fireplace in my heart and she was tending to it. Carefully adding logs every so often to stoke the flame. Walking side by side with her, ignoring every blaring car and streetlight, I knew I was far gone.
— Excerpt from Untitled by Rosie Maxwell and Aiden Huntington