CHAPTER ONE
ADDISON
THREE WEEKS LATER
Asthewomansittingin front of me checks her lipstick in her phone screen for the third time, I glance around the mostly empty diner, fighting to hold in a sigh. Travis catches my eye from behind the counter and raises his eyebrows. He’s not much of a talker, which I appreciate. But since we recently worked together for a little while, I feel fairly confident in interpreting the eyebrows as him asking,Are you good?
If only I knew a way to silently communicate back to him.No, I’m not. Please give me an excuse to get out of here.
Maybe he could pull the fire alarm.
Okay, no.
That would be a tad too dramatic, I suppose. I can survive one quick coffee date. It doesn’t feel quick, though, because this woman hasn’t said a single interesting thing since she sat down.
I take a sip of my coffee, wishing it was a latte. I respect the simplicity of Travis’s diner, but Mayweather really needs to get a legitimate coffee shop. If I wasn’t working today, I could’ve at least had this date at the bar. Yes,thebar. As in, the only one in this whole damn town.
Seriously, how did I end up living in a place with only one bar?
Technically, I live right outside of Mayweather, though the town I’m in has even less going on. But honestly, while I may have bitched about moving here after spending most of my life in Chicago, I’ve somewhat started to appreciate the slower change of pace that comes with living in a place like this.
Of course, I could do without Mayweather’s crazy antics, but since I work at the Mayweather Inn, it’s been hard to avoid them.
“So,” I say, focusing back on Madison, my date, and forcing myself to try to keep the conversation going, “have you lived in Massachusetts your whole life?”
“Yup,” she says, smacking her lips.
Okay...
This time a sigh does escape me, but I bring my hand up to my face in an attempt to cover it.
This is all my boss’s fault. Brenden, the owner of the inn, accidentally schemed his way into a happily ever after with Travis. So now he thinks I should do the same. Well, minus the scheming. Hopefully. The point is, ever since Brenden fell in love with Travis earlier this year, he’s been annoyingly happy, and now he apparently wants everyone around him to fall in love too.
What he’s failing to grasp, though, is that I already thought Ihadmy happily ever after. I was married. And look how that turned out.
I let my cheating ex-wife keep the restaurant we owned together, because I wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Now here I am, sitting in a small-town diner with a woman I found on a dating app.
There isn’t exactly an abundance of queer women in this area to choose from, so I swiped on the first profile that didn’t look awful. I’m only doing this to get Brenden off my back. After this date ends, I can tell him it was a bust, and then I can go back to spending all my time either working or with my cat.
My cat might be a better conversationalist than Madison.
I can’t say she’s not hot. But the problem is that shereallyknows it. And it seems she’s made being attractive her entire personality. She’d be a good choice if I just wanted to hook up, but after finding out how many women my ex cheated on me with, the idea of having sex has mostly lost its appeal for me.
I can only hope I’ll get over that eventually.
I’m only thirty-five. Some days I feel much older, but regardless, that’s too young to never get laid again.
Travis heads over with the coffee pot and asks if we want top-offs. I decline, because I’m already itching to get out of here. It doesn’t look like Madison’s even touched her cup. Probably doesn’t want to mess up her lipstick.
God, I’m being a bitch.
I glance at the clock on the wall while my date tells me about the horrific ordeal she endured yesterday when her pedicurist misshaped her toenails. I truly don’t know how she survived.
This is the most she’s talked the entire time, and I can’t take much more of it. So I cut her off as nicely as possible, letting her know I need to get to work. I pay for the two coffees and tip Travis ten bucks, which is double the bill, then we walk outside.
Freedom is so close, but first I need to make it clear that I’m not interested in going out with this woman again without sounding cruel.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she says to me, twirling her gaudy gold charm bracelet around her wrist. “But I have to be honest, I’m not feeling a vibe here.”
