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Why’s King showing up at my job, after I told him we were through? He’s only making this harder on both of us.
With a huff, I stomp off and deliver the drinks to the waiting customers, grabbing another table’s order while I’m at it.
King’s waiting at the bar when I return.
“Go home, King.” I shovel ice into plastic cups with way more force than necessary, sharp jolts racing up my arm with every scoop.
“I came to talk. That’s what you wanted, right?” He shoves a hand in his pocket, shifting his weight to his left, then his right.
“Before. Not now. It’s too late.” Scoop, scoop, scoop. I hack at a block of ice, the cubes frozen into an icy mass.
“Dammit, Jules. I’m trying here.” His tone’s strained, lips pressed together in a tight pink line.
I fill each plastic cup with water, breaking eye contact. Because I can’t bear the look in his eyes, the pain etched on his face.
“I can’t do this with you, King. I told you that. You won’t change. You never have.”
“Give us a chance, Jules. Please.” His voice breaks and my chest squeezes, aching with sadness. Of what we lost, what could have been.
I should stick to my guns. Not go back for more heartache. Like my mama used to say, a leopard doesn’t change his spots.
Shaking my head, I sigh. “I’m done in fifteen minutes. Have a beer.”
Then I hustle back to the table full of thirsty customers, seriously questioning my sanity.
30
KING
I have a beer while I wait on Juliet to finish her shift, letting the chilled liquid cool me down. I haven’t been this nervous since high school, when I asked Mary Beth Evans to prom. And that went horrible, so ...
Shoving that memory out of my mind, I kick around all the things I need to say to Juliet.
I’m sorry for shutting you out.
I need time to process things in my head.
I made a mistake.
I’m sorry for abandoning you.
I love you.
That last thought has me choking on my drink, bubbly fizz stinging my nostrils.
For fuck’s sake, King. You’re forty years old. It’s time to man up.
The lights go up, the music cuts off, and the last few customers pay their tabs and shuffle out of the restaurant. Juliet, Sabby, and one other guy move through the dining area, wiping down tables and stacking chairs. I polish off the last sip of my drink and stand up, stretching. Juliet unties her apron, tossing it on the bar.
“Sabby, we good?” she calls across the room.
“Sure, babe. Get some sleep. See you tomorrow.” Sabby waves, and I follow Juliet out of the Tipsy Taco.
The air’s cooler after the rain, and she shivers. “It rained?”
She toes at a puddle on the sidewalk, glancing up at the sky. The storm’s cleared, and the darkness is interrupted by the occasional glittering star.
“Yeah. Couple hours ago. Big storm out at the ranch.”
