Chapter 2
Laird Faris
“More coffee?”
I cover the mug with my hand and look up, spying the server’s nametag—Emmie. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” The pity in her eyes is easily seen in the sunshine flooding the diner. I really believed Poppy would show up.
I feel stupid for leaving a note telling her I love you. L.
Humiliated for putting myself out there in the first place.
What was I thinking? I wasn’t.
She’s drop-dead gorgeous, witty, could hold her own against my bad reputation, and unpredictable. So fucking unpredictable that I read her all wrong.
Fuck.
I’m an idiot.
Not again, though. I’ll never leave myself open to being humiliated again. Feelings are for fools. I knew better than to trust someone I barely knew. Never again.
Just as the server begins to walk away, I stupidly hold on to one last thread of hope and ask, “Do you have another location?”
She shakes her head. “We used to have several around Austin, but only the original still stands.” Her gaze drops briefly, and she adds, “I like your tattoos.”
I glance down at my arms as if I could forget I had them. I can’t, just like the new one I’m sporting on my chest will now haunt me for-fucking-ever. It’s already a part of who I am, ready to torture me further. “Thanks.”
The bell above the door chimes, directing me to look up like Pavlov’s dog. Sitting here for over two hours has me well-trained. But like every other time, it’s not who I want it to be.
Poppy could have told me if she changed her mind or needed more time to think things through. I would have waited even longer than I already have. We would date long distance or when the tour ended. I’d have waited however long she needed me to. But to not show . . .
I push away the plate of pancakes I ordered for her, leaving them untouched as the realization finally sinks in. She’s not coming.