Chapter 14 Madelina
“So then my aunt flashes his profile picture at me, and guess what his profession is?” Billie presses her lips in anticipation, eyes wide with her rhetorical question.
I steal a glance at Elliot, who’s standing behind the counter and leaning toward this woman who has clearly overstayed her welcome.
She tosses her long ginger hair with an exaggerated flair, her laughter echoing a touch too loudly.
It’s obvious she’s flattered by the attention from the young hot chef.
Elliot doesn’t seem fazed by the attention. If anything, he seems to welcome it like most men would. The flirtatious banter goes back and forth to the point where Ginger caresses his arm.
“Orthodontist!” Billie exclaims, her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Is this so cliché or what?”
“Uh-huh,” I murmur, my thoughts spiraling into a whirlpool of confusion. Why on earth would Elliot entertain someone like her? His charming smile leaves little to the imagination. He’s looking to get laid, and Ginger over there is opening her legs with a welcome flag and a marching band.
“Um, hello, Earth to Mars,” Billie calls, snapping her fingers in front of my eyes, pulling me back to the present. “Are you even listening to me?”
I blink rapidly, shaking off the haze as I reluctantly shift my focus from Elliot to Billie.
Only now, I notice she’s cut her hair again.
Her copper curls sit just above her chest. I’ve always loved Billie’s hair, mainly because mine is boring and so blah.
Occasionally I try something new but pretty much regret it every time.
My hair has grown slightly, nearly to my shoulders, which is when I tend to get antsy.
“Yes, your Aunt Yvonne is getting scammed again,” I say, trying to inject an air of engagement into my tone. “And nice haircut, by the way.”
“Okay, what the hell is going on here? You seem awfully distracted,” she presses, arms crossed. “Plus, I cut my hair a week ago.”
I clutch the rag in my hand and resume wiping down the tables, pretending not to notice the way my pulse skips whenever Elliot’s near.
Gathering the stack of used dishes, I head for the kitchen, only to glance back, unable to resist. For a fleeting moment, our eyes lock, stealing the air from my lungs.
Inside the kitchen, I finally exhale, but in the mess of my chaotic thoughts, a mug slips from the pile, and Billie catches it just in time.
A relieved sigh escapes her lips as she sets it on the stainless-steel countertop, then fixes me with a look. “Start talking.”
“I saw Myles last night,” I finally admit, my voice barely breaking through the clunking as I rinse off the dirty dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. “So, yeah…”
“Wait, what?” Billie shakes her head in confusion. “I’ve been talking for a solid twenty minutes about these scammers, and you only drop this bomb now?”
I take a deep breath, then turn to face her. “Well, actually, I’ve been here for three hours.”
“Maddy!” Billie taps her foot impatiently. “This is huge. Tell me everything.”
Elliot enters the kitchen like a snake in the grass, quiet and without warning. The moment I see him, I lower my gaze and then mumble, “Uh, how about we talk about it later?”
“Did you know about this?” Billie asks Elliot, forcing me to snap my gaze back up. Since when do we discuss my life in a group forum? I shoot an annoyed stare at Billie, but she doesn’t seem to catch on.
Elliot cocks his head at Billie. “About what?”
“Maddy running into Myles.”
“Yes,” he says simply, but avoids making eye contact as he diverts his attention back onto the tray of donuts waiting to be iced. “I’m aware.”
“Okay, what is going on here?” Billie questions with frustration evident in her voice. “Are you back with Myles or something?”
I shake my head. “No! Why would you think that?”
Billie shrugs. “Did you sleep with him? I get it, make-up sex with an ex can be good… therapeutic.” She giggles.
Elliot stiffens his back, but keeps his expression hidden.
“No,” I reiterate. “Nothing at all like that happened. Look, it was just awkward, and Myles has a new girlfriend, so there’s that.”
“Aw, hon, I’m so sorry.” Billie’s voice softens. “Moving on so quickly and flaunting it in front of you is a dick move.”
I swallow with difficulty, then slowly lift my gaze to meet Elliot’s. In the corner of my eye, I spot a customer waiting at the counter.
“Billie, your customer is waiting to pay.”
“Be back in a sec,” she answers quickly.
With Billie gone, I lean into the sink and say to Elliot, “We should probably go shopping for the wedding.”
“Shopping?” Elliot questions.
“Yeah, it’s themed. Cowboys and stuff, you know, because it’s being held on Bluebell Ranch.”
Elliot pauses his icing, his eyebrows knitting together in annoyance as he glances at me. “You never said the wedding was themed. I will not wear a cowboy hat.”
I place my hands on my hips. “Who said anything about wearing a cowboy hat?”
“I don’t like shopping.”
“You and every man out there,” I mutter under my breath. “How does after work sound? Unless, of course, you’re busy?”
Elliot turns away to mumble, “I have something on.”
“Oh, right.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I say, attempting to mask my disappointment. As I leave the kitchen, a sense of frustration lingers, an unwelcome chip resting on my shoulder.
For the rest of the afternoon, I avoid Elliot, assuming his plans involve Ginger. Between customers, Billie tries to bring up Myles again, but my mood turns sour really quickly. I end up blaming it on period pain to get out of talking about it.
When the last customer leaves, Elliot disappears to the kitchen to tidy up and shut down the appliances. Billie and I wipe down the dining area, and once everything is in order, the three of us say goodbye.
Elliot offers to catch up later or call, so I head my sorry ass home, only to be greeted by silence and the same four walls.
Boredom.
Damn small towns. Where nothing ever changes.
I start on the book I picked up from The Book Basket, but my head’s not in it, even with smut in the first chapter. The main character is jerking off in the shower, and while that’s usually hot, I end up yawning and craving something more.
What I need is to burn off energy.
So I change into my workout shorts and crop top, lace up my runners, and head out for a run.
As my feet hit the ground at a fast pace, I suspect this pent-up energy has a lot to do with the itch I haven’t scratched.
The idea of a one-night stand flits through my mind, but the thought of being intimate with a stranger does nothing for me.
I’ve always been one of those people who needs to feel a connection before jumping into bed with someone. It explains why I haven’t slept with many men, and why every time it’s someone new, it feels raw and uncertain, like stepping into the unknown.
With my headphones securely in place, I run through the quieter backstreets of town before hitting the scenic path by Peppermint Lake.
The pulsating beat of Olivia Dean fills my ears as sweat beads trickle down my forehead. I fight to catch my breath, resting momentarily by the park bench to avoid getting a stitch in my side.
It’s no surprise the park’s buzzing with kids darting between swings and slides.
The warm weather makes it the perfect day to be outside, soaking up the sun and the hum of laughter.
Near the play equipment, a small splash pad sprays mist into the air, and children race through it, shrieking as the cool water hits their skin.
Then my phone rings—cutting through the cheerful chaos—and Aston’s name flashes on the screen.
“Yo,” I answer, breathless.
“Why is Everleigh acting weird?” he questions abruptly.
“Um, what?” I take a seat, trying to make sense of what the hell Aston’s talking about. “No hello, how are you today?”
“You answered the call with a yo. I assume we’ve passed the formalities,” Aston grits, but then he continues before I have a chance to speak, “Can you please shed some light on what I’ve done to make your best friend so moody?”
“My best friend? She’s your fiancée.”
“Yes, she is. And she’s acting like she doesn’t want to be my fiancée anymore.”
I press my eyes shut, grappling for a response that will satisfy my brother. “Why don’t you guys sit and talk? I don’t really want to get involved.”
“So, you know something?”
“Aston, I’m busy, okay?”
“That is not an answer,” he says coldly. “Fuck, is Everleigh leaving me?”
I snicker softly. “Yeah, right. Just talk to her, okay? I’ve got to go.”
“Madelina!” Aston shouts before I hang up the call.
My fingers type quickly, sending a text to Eva.
This has got to stop. It’s unbelievable that Eva thinks she can continue to hide this from Aston without consequences.
Me
You need to tell Aston. I refuse to be in the middle of this.
Eva
I will.
Me
When?
Eva
Soon.
Me
Just tell him the truth. He’s really worried. If he asks me again, I won’t lie.
Minutes tick by, but Eva doesn’t respond.
I slide my phone back into my arm strap with frustration, then gather my breath and propel myself into a full sprint.
Each step sends a pulse of energy through my legs, but it’s not long before exhaustion creeps in, and the struggle to get to the finish line takes every ounce of my energy.
The last time I ran this intensely was the morning after I called off the wedding.
By the time I reach the apartment, my lungs are on fire, desperate for oxygen as I clutch the doorframe for support.
As soon as I step inside, I kick off my shoes, flinging them carelessly aside, and waste no time peeling away the damp fabric clinging to my skin.
Out of habit, I lean in to smell under my armpit, only to sputter, “Gross.”
I hop into the shower, letting the water cascade over me, but even the invigorating warmth fails to soothe my restless mind. I close my eyes and reach down between my legs.
Nothing.
I feel nothing.
Maybe I’m broken.
I can’t even get myself off. How pathetic am I?