Chapter 34 #2
As much as I don’t want to push Vicki into going on a date, I know she likes Fiona enough to at least consider it, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to use that.
And if it means getting my spot back as editor-in-waiting, then I have to take the chance.
I flip the sign from “open” to “closed” and start sweeping the floor as fast as I can.
I still want to get home and cook dinner for Naomi and Mom, just as an extra-special gesture to make up for the other night.
The door jingles open, and I roll my eyes. I’ve already been here for eight hours, and I just want to clean up and go home. Do customers not know how to read signs?
“The sign says we’re closed…”
I wheel around and see Logan standing in the doorway.
“Logan,” I whisper, my voice trembling as the shock washes over me.
He grins at me, his usual shy smile nowhere to be found.
“That’s no way to greet customers, by the way, Alex,” Vicki chides from behind the espresso machine.
I ignore her. “What are you doing here?” I ask, clenching my fists as I try to stop myself from jumping at him and wrapping him in a hug.
“I came to get a latte from you, duh,” he says with a wide grin.
“Well, we’re closed now…” I say, keeping my tone even.
His eyes haven’t left me, and I do my best to avoid meeting them.
He has a way of dismantling everything I know and throwing my life off track. His big, beautiful frame blocks out everything else around me.
“I can still make one for you,” Vicki offers with a smile.
“Deal,” Logan says.
His eyes never leave mine, and he carries himself with a confidence I’m not too familiar with. I’ve seen flashes of it before, but I’ve never seen him stand quite this tall.
I prop my broom against a table, ring Logan up, and he tips generously, as usual.
“How, uh… how was your day?” he asks, giving me a small smirk.
“Fine. I’m going to try and get Fiona to change her mind,” I mumble, still avoiding his eyes.
“I’m sure you’ll do it. You’re indispensable.”
I flush but keep my gaze fixed anywhere but on him.
Instead of staying to talk, I head off to collect the dishes while Vicki starts making his drink. She gives me a puzzled look when I don’t jump at the opportunity to make it myself or spend time talking to him.
I pick up the dish bin.
“Here, let me help,” Logan offers.
I shake my head. “I got it.”
“Alex, come on.”
I shake my head again, my hands trembling beneath the weight of the dish bin. “Logan. I got it,” I hiss.
I push past him and head for the kitchen. As I kick the door open, I hit it too hard. It bounces off the refrigerator and swings back toward me, catching me in the side.
The impact throws me off balance. The dish bin slips from my arms and crashes to the floor.
The sickening crash of ceramic rattles through the kitchen, and I watch as plates and cups shatter into pieces, scattering across the floor.
I dive down, trying to pick everything up.
The entire dish bin is a disaster. I broke nearly every cup and plate in the thing.
I can fix this. Dump it all into the garbage and buy more plates and mugs for the cafe with my own money.
No one has to know I messed up.
The kitchen doors fly open behind me.
“Alex, are you okay?” Vicki asks, her voice thick with concern.
I pick up a shard of a plate, but it slices into my finger. I drop it immediately.
“Fuck!” I scream as blood drips from my finger onto the floor.
“I’m going to fix it. Just let me fix it—” I whimper, looking between my bleeding finger and the mess on the floor.
The kitchen door swings open again.
“What the—Alex, are you okay?” Logan asks.
“Get him away, please,” I whisper to Vicki.
“He cut himself. I need a bandage. There are some in the cupboard underneath the register,” Vicki says.
Logan runs back out into the cafe.
“Alex, let me see. Come on,” Vicki whispers, rubbing her hands over my shoulders.
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face and onto the floor.
I feel completely helpless. I should have just let Logan help me. Now it’s all a mess, and it’s my fault.
“Alex, come on.”
I hold my finger out to her, and she gently takes my hand.
Logan returns to the kitchen and hands Vicki the rubbing alcohol and bandages.
She wraps one around my finger. “It’s not that bad,” she says to both of us.
Logan looks down at me with wide eyes, like I broke my arm or something.
I try to ignore him. I pretend I don’t want him to sink to the floor beside me and pull me into an embrace.
“It’s going to be okay, Alex,” Logan whispers.
I shake my head, sniffling as another tear slips down my face.
“It’s okay, Alex. Everyone here has broken plates and glasses. Maybe you beat my record, but they’ll be replaced. Don’t worry,” Vicki says, putting a hand on my arm and trying to get me to look at her.
“I can’t do anything right,” I whimper, staring at the floor and the carnage scattered across it.
“Alex. It’s a mistake. We all make them,” Vicki says.
I shake my head. “I should have—”
Vicki takes my uninjured hand, then cups my chin and makes me meet her eyes. “Alex. Stop. You’re okay. You broke some cheap plates and cups. That’s all. You’re not fired. You’re not a bad employee. You were just carrying too much. It’s okay.”
I heave a sigh, but I nod.
I’m not sure how I ended up crying over some broken dishes, but here I am, sitting on the kitchen floor among the mess with a bloody finger, and I have to accept it.
I was trying too hard to carry too much, and I paid the price.
Vicki helps me to my feet, and Logan brushes his fingers along my elbow.
“Now, we still have to close this place. You’re going to get up, and you’re going to close the cafe with me like nothing happened. Because you’re a capable employee, and I know you can handle it.”
“I’ll clean up the dishes,” Logan offers.
Vicki keeps her eyes on me, and I wipe my face with my sleeve.
I nod. “Okay.”
Vicki smiles at Logan. “Thank you, Logan.”
Logan nods. “Of course. Now get back out there, both of you.”
Vicki takes my arm, and I inhale deeply before making my way back out of the kitchen, plastering a smile on my face.
There’s nothing else I can do. I broke some dishes, and I have to keep working. Time won’t stop because I messed up, but at least I have people willing to help me clean up the mess. For that, I’m extremely thankful.
I pick the broom back up.
I let myself clean up the messes on the floor, and I let someone else clean up mine. I let someone help me get through the rest of my shift, even if I tremble as I do.
Because it’s about time I let someone ease the weight on my shoulders. It’s about time I let someone help me.