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On the short drive, I pull up Earl’s number and type out a quick text, inquiring about the status of my car repairs.

Ember decides to grab some food and walks me in, taking a seat at the bar where Mason is cutting garnish for the afternoon crowds. I head for the back and find Darren grumbling about the delivery guy while he aggressively tenderizes a chicken cutlet.

“Um, Darren?” I ask tentatively as he slams the meat mallet down so hard, I’m shocked the counter doesn’t break.

“What?” he snaps, making me jump.

He looks up and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“Sorry. What do you need, Cordelya?”

I chew my bottom lip but force the words out, “I was wondering if I could get my check a little early. I need to pay for the work on my car.”

Darren looks at me suspiciously.

It’s not entirely a lie. I do plan on paying for my car…if it’s ready. If it’s not, I’ll have to look at a pet-friendly rental.

My heart clenches painfully. Since the moment I saw the damage to Auggie’s house, I knew I had to leave. It was what finally broke the dam of tears.

I knew better than to get attached.

Not even attached. To fall in love.

Because I love Auggie, and the thought of being apart from him has me nearly doubling over.

But he didn’t ask for this. He doesn’t deserve this type of danger and destruction in his life.

So now I have to leave.

Lesson learned, universe.

But before I can do that, I desperately need to get paid, so I don’t have to dip into my emergency funds. Though this certainly constitutes an emergency.

After a few severely uncomfortable minutes, Darren nods.

“Let me finish prep, and I’ll get it to you.”

My whole body relaxes the smallest fraction.

“Thank you so much.”

He grunts and resumes his assault on the chicken cutlets.

When I slip back into the pub, Ember has gone, and the midmorning crowd has begun to trickle in. I check in with Mason, chatting for a few painful minutes about how much I enjoyed the festival.

“Just wait until the trick-or-treaters come tonight. Everyone is over the top. Make sure you stock up on candy,” he says with such enthusiasm I find myself nodding, knowing I’ll be long gone by the time the first wave of candy seekers comes knocking on doors.

I try to lose myself to the grind of work.

And for a while, I do.

Then midway through my shift, that creeping feeling returns. The same one I had the day I cut my hand on the plate.

Everything goes to hell in a handbasket from there. It’s like I’ve slipped into Groundhog Day and am living the same day all over again.

Orders get mixed up. Drinks are spilled. I completely forgot about a table, then drop an entire tray of food when I trip over air.

It’s a complete disaster.