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“You and Alana are the ones who screwed up,” I remind him as I walk out of his office.
“Be prepared for her to still want to stay there. And if you’re roommates, you better believe I’m keeping a close fucking eye on you!”
Warren curses down the hall, which is a rare occurrence in itself. But his words hit me in the back like a ton of bricks.
Being temporary roommates with August? Yeah, not really what I saw coming.
Still, a part of me is curious what that would be like.
7
AUGUST
After a day of sitting in limbo, I turn up at Hope Pizza during the dinner rush in search of answers.
This morning, when I woke, the house was quiet, and I snuck out of the guest room like a criminal who didn’t want to be caught. After a few minutes, it was clear Evan was already gone, but I wondered if that would be permanent. Should I unpack more of my things or leave them? I almost had an anxiety attack trying to decide, so I did nothing instead.
Because of that stress, I gave myself an out on setting up a meeting with the lawyer handling my mother’s will. Come on, I can only handle one thing at a time, or at least that’s what my denial and projection are having me believe.
So, after a day of pretty much doing nothing but stressing out and driving myself crazy, I walk in the door and am greeted by the familiar smell of wood-fired pizza. God, I’ve missed it in here. I guess I hadn’t noticed the subtle changes in decor, tableware, and atmosphere when I slept on Warren’s couch the other night, but the dining room looks like it had a classy upgrade while still remaining true to its roots.
The homemade, secret recipe of the sauce the Ashton family uses on their dough and pastas stings my nose in the best way possible, and I know I need to sneak something from the kitchen as soon as possible.
“Oh! I heard you were home!” I’m mere feet from the door when a body envelops me in a hug.
Right away, I know this is Leona Ashton. Because, just like her restaurant, she has a unique smell. That of fresh farm air and the perfume she’s been wearing since the first time I walked in to interview with her. This woman is like a surrogate mother to me or a very well-intentioned fairy godmother who likes to mess in my personal life. One time, she asked out a player on the high school lacrosse team for me. I ended up having to go out with the guy on a miserable movie date because I couldn’t disappoint her.
Leona always means well, and that’s what I love most about her. She has the purest heart, unlike the woman who raised me. Raised being a huge overstatement.
“It’s so good to see you.” I turn, squeezing her back.
“Look at you, a beautiful grown-up woman. Not that you haven’t always been beautiful, but my gosh, you are an adult now, August.” Leona shakes her head and looks like she might tear up. “And with so much on your plate. Tell me, sweetheart, how are you doing?”
Her voice takes on a note of gravity when she says the last part in a hushed whisper. I know the whole town probably knows that my mother died, but no one besides the Ashtons and a few other select people she pissed off personally know that my mother was an absolute nightmare of a human being.
“I’m … all right. I mean, it’s not like we’d spoken since I’d left. But she was my last … well, calling her a family member seems like a stretch. It’s complicated, I guess.” I don’t need to lie or guard my feelings when it comes to Leona.
“And that’s all fine to be feeling. You feel how you feel, no need to justify or rationalize. We’re all here for you, whatever you need.” She quirks an eyebrow at me, probably because she knows I’m shit at asking for help, even if I desperately need it.
“Speaking of being here for whatever you need, I came in to talk to Warren, but you guys look swamped. Let me put on an apron for old time’s sake.” I beam at Leona because, in truth, I would love to waitress tonight.
They don’t even have to pay me; the nostalgia alone is worth it. Being back out in the dining room, greeting customers I haven’t seen in forever, knowing that I’m helping a family that has given me so much … yeah, I want to do it.
“Sweetheart, you do not need to do that.” Even as she says it, the cash register receipt machine runs out of paper, and it looks jammed as she tries to open it.
I scoot around it, using my trick to hit it, open it, and reload the paper that’s been in the same spot forever.
“Please, let me help.” I grin at her, and she sighs.
“It would be a hugely appreciated favor, thank you, my girl.”
My insides always melt like goo when she refers to me in that way. The fact she thinks of me as one of her own is what made a lot of my teenage years bearable. Without another thought, I scoot back to the beverage nook and grab a waist apron from one of the shelves, throw a notepad and pen in there just in case I’m not as skilled at remembering orders as I used to be, and then head out onto the floor as I twist my hair up into a claw clip.
The first table I greet is my eighth-grade science teacher and his family of five. He’s so happy to see me, and his kids are all so grown up since the last time I saw them that the whole experience is more like a fun catch-up than work. I enter their drinks and food into the point-of-sale system, just like old times, and then move on to the second table in the section Leona put me on.
At one point, Liam wanders in and hugs me, actually hugs me. He must have softened since becoming a husband and father. The next half hour consists of waiting on tables, running to the drink station, and checking the POS system to see if appetizers and dishes are ready. When I see that my former teacher’s meals are up, I wander back to the kitchen, steeling my stomach for the inevitable flip when it recognizes that Evan is in the room.
“Are you even stirring the sauce? It’s getting clumpy and can’t go on the pasta like that.” His voice is harsh as I enter through the swinging door, and I see a twenty-something guy hanging his head in defeat.
