Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
OLIVIA
“I need a remake of that chili, please,” I shout through the kitchen window where I can see Mark working over the stove. “Without cheese this time.”
He turns to face me, his brows pulling together. “Shit, did I mess up the order?”
I shake my head. “No, Maeve conveniently decided she didn’t want cheese the moment the bowl hit the table.” It’s not the first time the old crone has forced us to waste perfectly good food, but where my usual patience runs limitless, I’m struggling today.
Mark rolls his eyes, the silver ring in his right earlobe glinting under the fluorescent lights. “Last week she asked for both cheddar and Gruyere in her grilled cheese sandwich. Is she suddenly lactose intolerant?”
I shrug. “Who knows. Sorry!” I call sincerely before returning to the stack of cutlery that needs polishing. It hasn’t been as busy as some Fridays are, but the day has drained me just the same. I’m sluggish on my feet, mind scattered after the way last night ended. I wasn’t able to sleep much as my mind spun with what I’d done.
But you don’t regret it , I remind myself.
Because I definitely don’t regret it.
Kissing Rhett Bennett is one of the most idiotic and reckless things I’ve probably ever done. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I could move with such blatant spontaneity or disregard for consequences, so much so that it would catch someone like him off guard. But in a fit of bravery, I’d captured his mouth with mine and changed everything between us.
Okay, maybe not everything . . . It wasn’t some sort of declaration of wanting more than he was already giving me. I mean, we are technically dating, right? Even if it’s just an arrangement and not a real brewing romance, surely a kiss at the end of the night is acceptable. It’s not like I brought him inside to ravage him.
I shudder, dropping the spoons back into the ramekin of warm vinegar water and bracing my hands on the counter.
“Liv?” my mother says from the computer to my left, bringing my mind back to the café.
“Yeah?” I hope like hell she doesn’t notice the heat crawling up my neck.
She taps at the screen with a delicate finger, sending the kitchen an order before looking at me with a wry grin. “Charlotte just got here—she’s at table nine. You didn’t tell me you had a date!” Her eyes dance with excitement and my heart skitters.
“Which one?” My hand flies to cover my mouth. Crap .
Her eyes flare wide. “Olivia Danvers, what do you mean which one ?”
I straighten and clasp my hands in front of me, my flush no doubt obvious now. “I’ve had a couple dates, actually,” I explain. “Because I’m . . . dating.”
The thrill exuding from my mother is near palpable. But then something dawns on her, her face morphing into concern. “Wait,” she whispers. “Rhett Bennett was here for you last night . . .” she says, trailing off.
She’d asked last night, when she saw him sitting in that booth, what he was doing here. Not unkindly by any means, but he’s never come in to eat before, and I knew it perplexed her. I’d tried my best to brush it off, telling her he was simply helping me with something.
“Mhm!” I nod but don’t dare say more. Instead, I rip my eyes away from her and stomp to the booth where Charlotte sits typing on her laptop. I glare at her for nearly a full minute before she deigns to look at me with a wide smile.
“Hey girl,” she greets me warmly.
“Since when do you share details of my dating life with my mother ?” I whisper-yell through clenched teeth.
Her brow furrows. “You’ve never really had a dating life, so I guess I don’t know the rules?”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, no need to offend me further.” I lower into the booth across from her. “What did you tell her?”
She shrugs. “Just that we shared a not-so-epic double date last weekend and I haven’t seen you since. Pretty harmless, considering you’re almost twenty-four and live in your own house and are perfectly allowed to go on dates.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m confused why you’d be upset about your mom knowing.”
I groan, hiding my face in my hands. “Because Rhett Bennett came here to find me last night after I forgot about our date?—”
“ Excuse me! ” Charlotte screeches. “You went on a date with Rhett Bennett?”
“Shhh.” I shoot a look around the café, horrified to find that we’ve not only caught Maeve’s attention but just about everyone else’s too. “Lower your voice , woman.”
Charlotte stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Explain.”
I pull the saltshaker in front of me so I can twirl it while I answer. “I had plans with Tony on Saturday night . . . Remember Tony? From the app?”
Charlotte nods. “You told me about it on Friday when we were getting ready for Spurs.”
“Yep. Well, I took him to Wild Coyote, and Rhett was there bartending and pretty much ran Tony out of the place.”
Charlotte’s eyes go so round I fear she’s going to break a blood vessel. “He what ? What do you mean he ran him out?”
“He heard Tony make some stupid comments about my profile and butted in, and then Tony tried to stand his ground and it pretty much turned into a pissing contest.”
“Oh my god, I’m surprised Tony had the balls. Rhett’s like . . . scary.”
“He is not,” I defend.
Charlotte’s mouth curves high. “Okay, so Tony tried to step up and . . . what? Rhett just kicked him out?”
“Basically, yeah. But he made me stay until he got off work and then berated me about dating assholes and told me if I was going to date one, to date him.”
Charlotte squeals again, and I almost smack her. “Oh my god, this is the greatest thing I’ve literally ever heard.” Her smile is so wide I think her jaw might dislodge from its hinges. “And what happened last night?”
I sigh. “It was so busy here I completely forgot that we made plans for dinner. He showed up looking pissed as hell because he thought I was standing him up. But then when he realized I wasn’t, he stayed and waited for things to settle down so I could leave with him. He took me to this amazing restaurant, and oh my god, Char, I fucking kissed him. I can’t stop thinking about it,” I admit.
“Wait.” She holds a hand up, closing her eyes as if savoring the moment. “ You kissed him ?”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. “Yeah.”
“Who are you and where the hell is my best friend, Olivia?”
I can’t help but giggle. Because she’s right. None of this sounds like me at all. “I know. I mean, it’s honestly more of a deal we made than anything else—he’s letting me practice dating with him. But the kiss just kind of happened. I’m not sure if kissing is allowed.”
She launches forward, leaning her elbows on the table. “When do you see him next?”
I shrug. But then the realization dawns on me: we never made any future plans. I never asked . . . I used up my final moments with him on a kiss. “Shit,” I whisper.
She tilts her head. “Did he kiss you back?”
“I . . . I think so?”
Her brows fall. “Olivia, you should know if someone kissed you back.”
I think back to the moment, remembering the way his tongue invaded my mouth and the feel of his fingers in my hair, pulling until a bite of pain licked along my scalp. “Yeah,” I say, suddenly breathless. “He definitely kissed me back.”
Her grin is cheeky. “Bet there’s a lot more where that came from.”
“Char,” I whine. “I’m not sleeping with him!”
She shrugs, pulling her laptop back in front of her. Charlotte is one of the only people I know who has a remote job, and she brings her computer nearly everywhere she goes on weekdays. “Yet,” she says back with a knowing glance.
I roll my eyes again and scoot out of the booth, feeling Maeve’s glare burn into the side of my face. Whether it’s because she heard every word or because she’s waiting on her new bowl of chili, I’m not sure.
In the back, I find the fresh bowl waiting at the service area. As I grab it, I notice my mom through the window standing with Mark, laughing about something as her hand presses to his shoulder. She hides her face in the fabric of his sleeve, and he smiles at her like she holds all his secrets. It’s not the first time I’ve caught them in the middle of . . . something. Mark’s worked the kitchen of the café since I was around twelve or thirteen, and I think he’s always had a thing for her. But besides these stolen moments in the kitchen, I’m not sure anything has ever happened between them.
I’m not even sure they’ve seen each other outside of work.
I slink back out to the dining hall, armed with Maeve’s new bowl of chili, and delicately set it on the table in front of her. “Careful,” I warn. “The bowl is hot.”
She eyes me suspiciously under a wrinkled brow. “No cheese this time?”
I shake my head, smiling. “No cheese.”
She nods, picking up her spoon and setting her napkin in her lap. She’s dining alone today, which isn’t unusual for her. I actually think she prefers it over sharing a table with others—better to listen in on the world around her. “You know,” she says just as I’m about to walk away. “Those Bennetts aren’t to be trusted, dear.” Her pale blue eyes meet mine again, studying me.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I say, humoring her.
Her expression grows serious. “They’re womanizers. All of them.” I watch as she lifts a spoonful of chili to her mouth, taking a bite. She frowns at the bowl. “Needs more salt,” she mutters.
I point to the saltshaker right in front of her. “How do you know so much about the Bennetts anyway? They don’t spend a lot of time with people in town.”
She eyes me again, the corners of her mouth still turned down. It makes her look older. Sadder. “They didn’t always stay away,” she says quietly.
I nod, not quite understanding what that means. For as long as I can remember, they’ve kept away from anything town-related outside of the Mustangs football team, where most of the brothers have played with varying levels of success. I wipe my hands along my apron, eager to end the conversation. “Enjoy the chili, ma’am,” I say with a smile and then make myself scarce.
* * *
Charlotte leaves about an hour before I get off, citing plans with Ivan. He’s taking her to the drive-in in Foxborough County to see some new action movie. I happen to know that Char hates action movies, so I’m betting their plans are a little more frisky in nature.
The café is still slower than normal, and Mom has been sitting at a table with Luna, who runs the bakery next door, since she popped over to say hello after closing her own doors for the night. I process through all my normal chores: cleaning the soda machine, wiping menus, rolling napkins, and filling the shakers on all unoccupied tables. Teresa is still out today which means I don’t have the usual help, but I don’t mind. The normalcy and routine of keeping things running here is a comfort I’ve often found safety in.
I know I’ll always belong to this café, just as it will always belong to me and Mom. Someday I’ll run it without her, and the surety of that promise is one of the best gifts she’s ever given me.
We run out of pepper before I finish refilling shakers, so I wind my way toward the office so I can make a note to order more tomorrow. Pushing through the closed door, I sit at the desk and scan its surface for a pad of sticky notes and a pen, finding both under a pile of papers. Mom isn’t the most organized with paperwork—or really anything —but despite the chaos of her environment, she runs a tight ship.
I write the note before pulling it off the top of the pad and adhering it to the black screen of the computer monitor, and it’s when I quickly scan over the desk again that I see it: a cream-colored envelope with blue handwriting. A letter addressed to me . . . with a Charleston return address neatly printed in the top-right corner.
My mind tumbles as I stare at it. It’s not my father’s angular scrawl . . . the lettering is more loopy. More feminine. I don’t hesitate as I swipe it off the desk, quickly confirming that it’s still sealed shut—not that I really think Mom would read something like this—and shove it into the wide pocket of my apron as I stand.
Making quick work of closing out the rest of my tables, I don’t even bother to wait for them to leave so I can grab the tips. My mom scoots in next to me at the computer, and I feel the weight of her gaze as she studies me. “You out of here, sweetheart?”
I nod, smiling at her. “Yeah, I’m beat. You need me to open tomorrow morning?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, I got it. I think Teresa will be back in too. Why don’t you take the day off?”
I scrunch my nose. “It’s Saturday . . . it’s too busy for you and Teresa to work alone.”
She shrugs. “I’ll call in Suzie. She’d probably love some extra cash.” Suzie works here part-time, usually on weekday mornings. She’s single with no kids, and if she’s not working here, she’s usually complaining of being bored at home.
“You sure?”
She nods. “You need a day off, Liv. Go sow some wild oats.” Her right brow raises as if to drive the point home.
“Ha. Thank you,” I say with an eye roll, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
On my walk toward the employee exit, the envelope in my apron seems to burn through my jeans. I do my best to ignore it for now, swiping my purse out of the cubby propped on the wall, and barge out the door into the chilly night.
I need a fucking drink.