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Natalie
Christ, I knew I loved these people. The nice thing about a family-owned diner is, they let me keep my job after I explained who got hot coffee dumped on their lap and why.
The booth next to me that I was so worried about actually went to Mama (who really runs the joint) to let her know what was happening. One of the cousins caught sight of it, too, through the kitchen window and corroborated my story.
“Dogs!” she had spat. “All of them! Not you, my loves, not you,” she’d corrected as she caressed her sons’ faces. “If we see this man again, he will be out on the street before he can see your face!” She vowed.
I could have kissed her. Actually, we did hug, which was really sort of sweet. She’s about two feet shorter than me, but somehow enveloped me in her arms like she was a bodybuilder. The line guys got super protective of me, too, always looking out for trouble.
I told them I didn’t imagine him coming in anytime soon, but I think they like the ‘danger’. On top of that, Papa (that’s the only name I’ve ever heard him called, I swear to God) felt so bad, he offered me a 3% raise on the spot.
It’s not much, but it means the world. These people had my back after only working for them for a few days. I builtChicfrom the ground up, and they turned on me like I was dirt.
Life is feeling a little brighter today as I bustle about the restaurant, keeping everyone’s cups filled and enjoying the harmless flirting from the line cooks. I won something. Blake didn’t take this job away, and he couldn’t buy his way out of these people hating his guts.
I’m humming a little to myself as I head over to my table, but stop in my tracks. I smell him before I see him. That familiar cologne that’s haunted my sleep these past couple weeks. You’ve got to be kidding me.In the same damn booth?!
“What are you doing here?” I demand, crossing my arms. I don’t feel the need to play nice anymore, knowing the restaurant has my back.
“Natalie, hi,” Roger beams and I’m a little taken aback. He looks wonderful, as usual. Smartly dressed. His dazzling blue eyes are gazing up at me with such genuine happiness, I feel like I’m in a wedding dress and not an apron.
Jesus, pull it together, Natalie! Wedding dress,hah!Don’t forget this guy is also involved in ruining your life.
“Hi,” I say icily. “What can I get you,sir?”
“Hey, don’t be like that,” Roger frowns. “Look I came here to talk to you…”
“What could you possibly have to say to me? I’m just a fling, right? Just stop number one in a long line of girls for an evening —”
“That’s not true, Natalie, you know it’s not—”
“You can’t imagine what it’s been like, staring at those pictures over and over again, thinking about that night and what it meant to me, and—” I stop short, my eyes brimming with tears.
Roger’s face is in anguish as he looks up to me. His hand twitches like he’d like to reach out and hold me, but he resists and takes a deep breath.
“Natalie, it meant a lot to me, too. Look, I know this didn’t start out so great here, and I know we’ve got some real stuff to go over, but if you’ll just hear me out for a second…”
“This guy bothering you?” One of the line cooks stops by the booth and folds his arms, puffing out his chest and jutting his chin out. I bite my lip to keep from laughing at his bravado and the confused look on Roger’s face.
“No, Angelo, everything’s fine.” Angelo gives me a stern look.
“Cross my heart,” I promise, and he shoots me a smile. He narrows his eyes at Roger as he stalks past, letting him know he’s got eyes on him.
“Seems like you made friends here,” Roger smiles and I shrug. Angelo somehow broke the spell. I feel the air change between us, and I let my guard down a little. Roger does, too.
“Natalie, I know we’ve got a lot to work through. But I want to work through it. I want to put in the time and devote myself to whatever you need because…well, the truth is—
God, Natalie, I’ve missed you.”
I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear those words. They well up inside me and I gasp at how wonderful they feel in my chest. “What?” I ask, my voice small.
“Natalie, I’ve missed you so much. I fucked up. I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”
“Roger.” I bite my lip trying to find the words. Have I ever been apologized to? I mean, really? Has anyone genuinely apologized to me in my adult life, ever? “To be honest…I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And I may have… overreacted. A little.”
Okay, it wasn’t the most generous confession, but letting my pride slip that much is a big deal for me! I have so much more to go, and so much more to say, but I really don’t feel like we should be discussing that here.
I’m about to make arrangements for when my shift ends when he pulls something out of his pocket. It’s a photograph... of a bare, gutted room. He hands it to me, and I take it warily, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to be looking at.
