Chapter 18
“Gonna need that fish, Frankie!” Dale (of Dale’s Premier Fish ’n’ Chips) hollered back at me, even though I was only at the other end of the food truck.
“Yes, sir, coming sir,” I said hastily as sweat ran down my back.
I quickly placed the breaded fish into the fryer, sending hot oil sizzling over my wrists.
Fuck, that hurt.
After almost two years, my wrists were swollen and scarred from so much time around the deep fryer.
Cash strolled by as I choked down a pained curse.
“Remember, as a town we are aiming for 100% customer satisfaction,” he said, adjusting his necktie.
“Yes, sir! It’s hard without good help,” Dale replied, his jowls wiggling agreeably. “But we’re working toward it.”
Cash glanced toward me, dismissively, sardonically. Like I was no longer any threat to him.
“Yes, Mr. Mayor,” I said. “I’ll try to do better.”
After Jillian left me the town had quickly voted on a mayoral recall.
No one liked me or trusted me to lead them anymore.
And I couldn’t really blame them.
I fucking loathed myself, too.
Cash had been elected with 99.9% of the vote.
“I have big plans for this town,” his pitch had been. “Plans far bigger and grander than the previous administration could ever dream of.”
Since losing my job as Mayor, I had been forced to do several different odd jobs to make ends meet and afford my rent at Mrs. Greenberg’s, so now I did shifts frying at Dale’s Premier Fish ’n’ Chips, dish washing at Tuppy’s Pub, dusting knickknacks at Treasured Memories, and cleaning out the bathroom at Earnest’s law offices.
And Earnest did not exactly try to hit the toilet.
But I needed all that money to keep any hope of reconciling with Jillian.
It was hard work, and I barely ever got days off, but unfortunately it wasn’t busy enough that I ever forgot for one moment what an ass and a bastard I had been and what I had lost.
When my shift was over, I hung up my apron.
It was a sweltering day in Ramshackle Bay, and I trudged past groups of happy tourists down Main Street. It was time to wash Mrs. Greenberg’s car and then grab a hasty dinner before going to my shift at Tuppy’s.
My feet were heavy, my eyes crusted over with exhaustion.
It was almost closing time at the Perk Up & Read, and my heart constricted to see Jillian herself leaving the cafe, and Cash coming down the street with their baby Bluebell in his arms.
Sometimes I took the thinnest, barest comfort out of the fact that they still weren’t engaged. That maybe, MAYBE it meant that someday she’d forgive me.
And then I felt like an asshole.
Because she’d moved on. Had never looked twice at me again.
And I was the only thing standing between her and the perfect family. Marrying Cash.
Maybe I should give in, stop fighting, . . . but I couldn’t.
I’d been in therapy for two years, and still couldn’t believe I’d been immature and dumb enough to cheat. No matter what I did she might never forgive me. I might never get another chance.
I had to accept that, my therapist said. That I might never be successful, no matter how hard I worked on being a better man.
Then, because I had no money and my therapist was Ronnie, she blew loudly on a whistle or smacked my head with a spoon to get the message across. I was pretty sure her license was lapsed and this wasn’t actually “Pavlovian shock therapy,” but no matter. The lesson was right.
Bluebell had curly light brown hair and, just like her mother, was adored by everyone.
Cash set her down, and the tiny toddler stumbled excitedly toward her mother, squealing and raising her arms up.
Jillian’s face lit up with heart-stopping beauty, and she picked up Bluebell and tossed her lightly in the air, snuggling her daughter tight as Cash put an arm around Jilly’s waist and kissed her affectionately on the head.
My legs felt like lead, like my limbs were so heavy I couldn’t move.
Cash had everything I wanted. Everything I had ever dreamed of.
My stupid weak eyes filled with tears and my hands tightened on the cold fried fish I was carrying home to warm up in the microwave and eat for supper.
Had there ever been a day of true, full-throated happiness without Jillian?
No.
Each day of her pregnancy had been a torture for me, my ex getting more radiant and rounder every single time I saw her, and I knew it was all my fault and that she didn’t love me any more.
But I still loved her, desperately and hopelessly.
Of course she’d moved on. But I couldn’t. I was living in the past again, only this time I knew it was something real and true instead of that stupid infatuation with Christabelle.
Jillian turned sideways slightly, Bluebell’s arms tightly around her throat, and Cash’s massive palm spanning her lower back.
Our eyes met.
And even through my watery gaze I could see every single feature I remembered—the luminous gray eyes, cute little nose, full pink lips, the long silky brown hair that fell down her back.
My jaw was probably dropped like a dairy cow, but I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help my reaction to her.
But in her eyes there was nothing. No reaction. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment that she knew who I was. No sign of our shared history, our years together.
She turned back to her family and I stumbled, clutching the railing of Mrs. Greenberg’s porch as the fish fell from my slick grip and into the dirt.
The door to their house shut and I could hear the happy, light-hearted banter, the low rumble of Cash’s laughter, and I began to cry.