Page 34 of The Cost of Love

It’s been almost three weeks since I’ve seen Alex. I think the back-to-back availability made him think I was chock-full of time, but this gap in being around each other is a stark reminder of how little I’m actually free. We text, we call, and in the wee hours in between my little sleep and getting off work, I think about him. More than I should, honestly. More than I thought I would.

I’ve only known the guy for a month, and in that time, it seems like something has shifted inside of me. I find myself wishing that I were more available. Not just for the kids but for myself as well as for him, and the moments of reprieve he offers me. When I’m with him, I feel my age. Like I’m young and full of possibilities. Like, I have more of a life than I actually do. Somehow, that has lifted some of the weight that usually sits on my shoulders.

Which is why I have picked up more shifts, therefore preventing me from seeing him. Because of that, sitting in the back of the café scarfing down yesterday’s pain du chocolate before work is the only respite I have, or so I thought.

Arjun, the other waiter, pops his head in to tell me that someone is asking for me. I roll my eyes and wipe the crumbs off my lips and shirt. Taking in a big breath, I walk back onto the floor.

Expecting a regular or particularly fussy customer, my mouth pops open when I see that it’s him. Alex.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper when I walk up to his table.

He leans back in this chair and links his hands on his lap. Offering me that same dazzling smile, it knocks me back a little.

“I decided I’m going to work from here, so I can see you.”

“What?”

He gestures to his laptop as if to make it clear, and then holds up his iced latte.

“I have to work,” I say.

“I know, but you have breaks, and there will be slow moments. And even if you can’t talk to me, maybe I can give you a ride home, and we can talk then.”

Putting my hands on my hips, I press my tray against my side. I stare at him, trying to understand why he would do all of this just for a chance at a conversation.

“This is not fuck buddy behavior,” I say.

“I’ve always wanted to make out in a cooler. We can do that, too, if you want.” He takes a slow sip of his drink, the smirk not leaving his mouth the entire time.

I throw my hands up and walk away from him, having already spent too much time at his table.

When I get behind the counter, I look at him to see he is still watching me. I don’t know if he plans on doing that for the next six hours that I work, but it’s going to get distracting.

For the first half of my shift, I can’t keep my eyes from looking at him. They dart in his direction every time I have a free second. Sometimes he is on the phone, or typing away, and then other moments he is already looking at me when I check. Each time I do, he offers me a smile and a wave. It keeps drawing people’s attention, including my co-workers.

“Who’s that?” Arjun asks when we have a moment to restock the display case.

“Um, a friend.”

“I wish I had friends that looked like that,” he says.

Stifling a laugh, I mutter, “If only you knew,” under my breath.

“It’s your lunch time. Why don’t you go bring your friend a panini?”

I look at the brioche bun filled with chicken, brie, and cranberry sauce that we have on special and grab two, sure he will like it as well. While they heat up, I take off my apron and name tag. Tucking a water under my arm, I grab our food and walk over to him.

As soon as he sees me carrying the two plates, he hops up and takes them from my hand.

“Oh, look at that. You have some time,” he says, delighted with himself.

I stop myself from rolling my eyes and just sit across from him. He closes his laptop and slips it into his bag, freeing up space.

“What are you working on?” I ask, sure I’ll have no idea what he is doing.

“Projections. I’ve made some deals recently, and I want to see what the fiscal year is going to look like with that included. See if it improves our profit margins.”

Having understood more than I thought, I nod. “Is that frustrating?” I ask since he seemed to cover his face with his hands every once in a while.