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Rejection and embarrassment flooded my body, threatening to have me curl in on myself.
How silly of me to think he felt what I did in that kiss. He really was just playing a game, oneIstarted, and now he was practically holding his hands up for his friend like he was ashamed of being caught with me.
Well, I’d had enough of that shit in my life. More times than I could count. I just never thought it would be from him. Especially after how amazing the night had been.
I shook my head. “Thanks fordinner,” I said to Jim in the best, sweetest southern drawl I could muster. I didn’t bother addressing his friend because he hadn’t decided I was important enough to introduce.
Okay, it had only been a few seconds but damn it my emotions were all over the place. I’d gone from losing myself in the hottest kiss ever to feeling ashamed, like I’d done something wrong. And I was so over that. I was actually doing really damn well in my life right now, despite everything, and the last thing I needed was to feel like someone’s mistake.
Especially Jim’s.
“Anne,” he called after me, but I waved him off, the tears already building behind my eyes as I hurried into my car.
God, times like this was when I’d reach for a drink to help soothe the embarrassment I made of myself.
But I couldn’t do that anymore, couldn’t hide from my emotions. I had to work through them if I wanted any kind of healthy growth, according to Dr. Casson.
I made it home in record time, my hand hovering over Sephie’s number in my phone. Ultimately, I chucked my phone and climbed into bed. I couldn’t be dependent on anyone or anything else anymore. I had to face reality.
I just hated that that reality included the ex-love of my life being ashamed of me.
* * *
“You know I can work with your schedule and give you more time off now that you’re doing the community service,” Lyla said as we prepped for the dinner rush. I’d had to duck out of community service an hour early today to make this shift, but Jim didn’t mind.
In fact, Jim had been infuriatingly fine today. Not even a hint of regret or need or anything indicating the kiss had affected him at all.
I guess that was fair though. I mean, what had I really expected? I started a game and he finished it. End of story. I needed to take accountability for that and not hold it against him. It wasn’t his fault it meant more to me than it did to him.
Dr. Casson would be so proud of me.
“That’s all right,” I answered her while rolling up flatware into napkins with magnolias printed on them.
Lyla’s personality was as bubbly as her style, which consisted of lots of tasteful floral designs mixed with a modern edge throughout her restaurant. Whenever I did see her out of her chef’s jacket, she leaned toward bright colors and fun prints, and I wasn’t sure that I ever saw her without a smile on her face.
“You know how much I love working here,” I continued. “And I’m so grateful you offered me a job when I came crawling in here.” Almost literally. That first week of sobriety was a real bitch, but I was nothing if not determined. Not wanting to die will do that to you.
Lyla waved me off. “You’re too sweet,” she said, and I had to stop myself from shaking my head at her.
Sweet was the last word I’d use to describe myself. Lyla was sweet down to her core not only being genuinely nice but also by serving the community. She gave meals to people in need without blinking twice and always made sure she didn’t waste a single scrap of food after the night wrapped up.
Jim was sweet, always asking if I needed coffee or water when he went to grab himself some, or holding my door open for me.
Me? I was spicy. Not in the cute fun way sometimes used to describe people, but in the literal sense that some people found me downright intolerable and at the very least I made some people uncomfortable. And I was fine with that because there were some people, few and far between, but some people who could handle my level of heat…or baggage or trauma or whatever label we wanted to slap on it. I’d ask the doc for clarification at our next session.
“All done,” I said, showing off my hard work with a Vanna White display that made Lyla laugh.
She wrapped up her dark brown hair in a bun before heading to the sink to wash her hands. “Great job, love,” she said. “Now get out there and sell my special.” She winked at me.
I headed out of the kitchen backward, clenching my eyes shut. “A pan-seared Chilean sea bass with a cauliflower mash and roasted corn cakes?”
“That’s the one,” she said, grinning at me. “You’ve got this.”
I blew out a breath and headed out of the kitchen and into the dining room, greeting the few other servers as I headed to my section.
I never expected to be so welcomed when I came begging for a job, but Lyla had pretty much made me realize that not everyone in Sweet Water cared about what the gossip columns wrote about my past. She treated me like she treated just about everyone else, with a fierce sort of kindness I’d never truly understand. I mean thepatiencethat woman had. It was a marvel. A burner on her stove had blown out last week, severely reducing her work flow, and she’d barely uttered so much as a curse. I kind of wanted to be her when I grew up.
The dinner rush hit with a delightful chaos that I thrived in. I didn’t have a second to stop and think or catch my breath, which I loved. No time to think meant no time to agonize if I was doing good enough or if I’d ever reach a moment in time where I didn’t have toquestionif I was doing good enough.
