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The next three days prove nearly impossible. I’m not concentrating on studying and every time I have five free minutes I’m thinking of Cal Suppato. If it was his mission to get my mind off Reid, he can consider himself successful.
I’m just about to sit down with my second glass of wine and a plate full of chicken fajita salad when my doorbell rings. Brynn is out of town on a shoot and Ryleigh was just here last weekend so the last thing I expect to hear is my doorbell ringing at 6:00 p.m. on a Sunday.
“Jaxon,” I say, surprised to see him.
The corner of his mouth turns up in a weak smile. “Got a minute?” he asks, and I open the door the rest of the way in response. “Something smells amazing,” he says when he enters the living area.
I walk back to the dining table and sit down. “Hungry?” I nod toward the big bowl full of salad in the middle of the table.
“You should be calling me names right now, not offering me dinner.”
I shrug and take a bite of my salad. “I’m not mad at you.” I wash the salad down with a sizeable drink of Riesling. “Hurt, maybe. Disappointed, yes. But mad?” I shake my head and take another drink.
He pulls out a chair and sits across from me. “I never meant to hurt you. I need you to believe that.”
“No one ever means to hurt someone,” I say, then I notice the white bandage covering his right wrist and hand. “What happened there?”
He holds his injured hand in the air, “You mean here?” he asks then snickers. “Punched a wall. Just being an idiot.”
“I see.”
I never pegged Jaxon for the angry type. I also never figured him for the quickie in the bathroom type. So, I guess that goes to show what a great judge of character I turned out to be.
“Hard to mix drinks one-handed,” he says, his tone laced with regret. “That is, if Cal even lets me keep my job.”
My nose scrunches up and I squint my eyes as if I’m the one in pain. “Yikes.”
“Yeah. He’s not exactly a second chances kind of guy, you know?”
I have a feeling Cal and Jaxon share more than the typical employer-employee relationship. Every time I’ve brought up Cal’s name, Jaxon has had nothing but positive things to say. I also know that if Cal is anything like Carlos, Jaxon wouldn’t have to wonder if he had a job or not. The message would’ve been loud and clear.
No. There’s trust there. Friendship. There has to be.
“You’ll be fine. Trust me,” I assure him, hoping my confidence in Cal isn’t misplaced.
“I really am sorry. For Ava, yeah. But mostly for what I said to you. I was just looking for something to blame. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did.” I set my fork down on my plate. “And that’s okay, because what you said is true. I am just going through the motions. I’m sorry for dragging you into it. That’s no way to live. I know that. It wasn’t fair.”
“This was never going to work, was it?” he asks.
“You know the whole let’s be friends line?” I reply, and he smiles. “Well, I mean it. I like you. A lot…” I pause and smile. “…as a friend.”
“Me too.”
“So, are you hungry or not?” I ask him, nodding toward my salad.
Maybe we can start over. Maybe we can’t. I don’t hate him. Right now, looking at his bandaged hand and regretful eyes, I feel bad for him.
“Starving,” he says, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Maybe we can be friends after all.
I fix him a plate of salad then throw some brownies in the oven. We make light conversation about school and a few questionable outfits some of our customers wear. By the end of dinner, I decide I have to try to help Jaxon keep his job. Because that’s what friends do. Besides, I feel like the situation got so out of control in the first place, because I handled it like a lunatic. If I had just left calmly—if I’d just walked out the door—then none of the dramatic aftershock would have happened.
And the kiss wouldn’t have happened either.
I rinse our plates off then stick them in the dishwasher while the brownies cool. Jaxon wipes down the countertop and dining table. I smile at him then grab the dish towel and shake my head.
