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“Hello. Welcome to Franco’s,” I said, focusing on the man I could see. He was older with pasty, greasy-looking skin. He was balding at the crown of his head, and his nose was bulbous and red at the tip as he sniffled a bit. Definitely wasn’t a looker, but it was clear he had money by the way he was dressed in his crisp suit and the gleaming watch on his wrist. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too soon about him leaving a generous tip, though. It was always the rich people who stiffed me on gratuity. “I’m Brynn and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?” My eyes turned to the other man to level the attention and I instantly hitched a breath when familiar light-brown eyes locked with mine.
Oh, God.
I couldn’t believe it.
It was him.
Dominic Baker, my high school sweetheart. We’d dated when I was a sophomore, and he was a senior. He took me to prom, and shockingly, we won as prom king and queen. We were so young, so popular. Life felt unreal back then, like we were a famous couple. My chin was practically on the floor and my heart pumped twice as hard as I gawked at him.
Dominic appeared equally surprised to see me and I cursed internally for not putting on more makeup and at least attempting to look prettier that day.
“Brynn Wallace,” Dominic said, and his voice was like brown-sugared honey. It stuck to my insides, hot and sticky, as I got lost in his eyes. “Wow. Look at you. I never thought I’d see your beautiful face again.”
Beautiful face? He still found me beautiful? I’d put on a few pounds since high school—who hadn’t—and my skin was worse, thanks to the terrible fast food I ate. My hair was pulled into a low ponytail and needed a relaxer badly. But that was beside the point. Dominic Baker was sitting in front of me, and I’d never really gotten over this man. I’d tried, even after we drifted apart when he went to college. He’d stayed in North Carolina and attended Duke University with a full-ride academic scholarship, and though it was only a few hours away, the distance was unbearable. It was silly of us to think it would work—that our relationship would last despite it. Our relationship ended because of a slow pull away. Sometimes Dominic would go days without texting or calling me back, then other days we’d be on the phone at night for hours catching up. Eventually, that tapered off too. I can still remember the conversation we had that tore my heart to pieces.
“This isn’t working, is it?” he’d asked with a voice full of sorrow.
“No, it isn’t,” I answered.
I regretted those words, even more so now. I should’ve made it work. I should’ve gotten a damn car sooner than my junior year so I could drive to Duke and visit him. I was so proud to know he was going to that college. He was always so damn smart, so wise beyond his years. And sexy. God, was he sexy. We kept in touch every few weeks after the breakup, but that only lasted a few months.
Now, he looked good, dressed in an expensive gray suit, shiny shoes, with an expensive watch on his right wrist. The man sitting across from him looked between us with a critical eye, waiting for an explanation, or an introduction at the least.
Dominic, realizing his impoliteness, pulled his eyes away from mine and provided one. “John, this is my good friend from high school, Brynn. She was top cheerleader of her class. Went to Loyola University with a full-ride scholarship because she was so good.”
I blushed, and also wanted to throw up a bit. How could he brag about me when I looked like this? Dressed in pants too tight, a white button-down shirt with a monogrammed F on the chest, and a freaking waist apron over it stuffed with straws, loose papers, and pens. I was nothing now—a meager waitress in comparison to . . . whatever he was doing with his life. How could he not see that?
“Nice to meet you, Brynn,” John said. John’s eyes scanned me from head to toe. His tongue ran over his dry lips and there was something about him that made me feel gross beneath his stare. I let the thought go when his head dipped, and he focused on the menu. “Can I get a whiskey, neat? And I’ll start with the crawfish,” John said.
Oh. Right. I was meant to be working, not ogling my ex-boyfriend. I cut my eyes to Dominic, who gave me a sympathetic smile. And there it was. His pity. I was simply the waitress, and he was some bigshot. I scribbled down their orders then rushed toward the kitchen to put them in.
I didn’t bother speaking casually to Dominic or asking him how he’d been after that—not that I could anyway. He and John were heavily in conversation each time I stopped by. John would pin his eyes on me every time I attempted to approach, like he didn’t want to be interrupted, so I backed off when necessary. Whatever they were discussing was clearly not to be heard by anyone. I suppose I didn’t need to speak to Dominic too much anyway. I noticed the wedding band on his finger as he ate. It shined as sunset rays made their appearance through the restaurant and practically blinded me as I topped off their waters.
Dominic and John paid for their food, then they left.
I thought I’d never see my ex-boyfriend again until I spotted the signed receipt from their table. On it was a phone number and beneath that number were the words, CALL ME.
FOUR
JOLENE
One thing I love about my best friend Daphne’s house is how normal and lived-in it is. As I pull into her driveway, I can’t help staring at the ranch home. It seems so simple from the outside, with the golden oak shutters and white exterior. The hedges are trimmed, the lawn perfectly manicured, and bushes with white roses cling to the house. Every detail of Daphne’s house from the exterior to the interior was created by her and her husband. They had this home built from scratch. They are a duo, who do everything together with passion and love. And that’s why I’m happy to be visiting them today.
I step out with my purse, shutting the door behind me and walking to the porch. As I knock, I hear a whirring noise and peer up at the camera built in above the door. My eyes shift to the left, and another camera hides in an artificial plant.
The door swings open and my best friend Daphne Bailey-Juarez stands on the other side, a goddess in all her beauty. Her makeup is simple, but perfect on her light brown skin. Her natural hair has clearly been braided out to support the sleek crinkles. She wears gold eyeshadow and highlighter that makes her skin pop.
She spreads her arms in the poofy-sleeved sienna maxi dress, enveloping me in a hug. She smells of expensive vanilla and amber perfume as I hug her back. I forget how I can wrap one arm all the way around her. Daphne is so thin. It’s natural to her, and I always feel a pang of envy about it.
“JoJo,” she croons over my shoulder. “Thank you for letting me see your pretty face today. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I sigh, holding her a few seconds longer. It’s been several weeks since I last saw her. Work has kept me busy, as well as Dominic’s campaign.
Daphne steps back, gesturing inside the house. “Come in, come in.” I step inside, immediately coming out of my heels and placing them against the wall.
“So, I know you said only coffee this morning, but I couldn’t help popping over to Mirren’s for chocolate croissants.” She grins as she rounds a corner and enters a spacious kitchen. The kitchen is all marble and chrome, with orange dahlias in a crystal vase on the island countertop to add a burst of color. The table is already set up with two coffee mugs turned upside down on small dessert plates, as well as cream and sugar.
“You know I shouldn’t, Daph,” I say as she saunters to the kitchen to collect a brown box. MIRREN’S is stamped on the side of it.
