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She raised her hand in the air. “Sorry,” she laughed. “Though you might want to pull your shirt down all the way if you’re still going to try to hide that pretty Nugget bump.”
I yanked the hem of my sweater down and tucked my hair behind my ear. “You hear that, Nugget? She called you pretty.”
“Oh, Missy,” she sighed. “I’ll see you in four weeks.”
I stood straight and focused on putting one foot in front of the other without waddling. “How’s this?” I asked when I was halfway down the hallway.
“You look like you have a stick up your butt.”
I gasped and whirled around to holler at Dr. McGee, but she was sprinting down the hallway, laughing her butt off.
I whirled back around and headed to the receptionist's desk to make my next appointment.
Dr. McGee might have just made fun of me, but I think that was exactly what I needed right now. I needed someone to give it to me straight and help me figure out what the heck I was going to do when I couldn’t hide Nugget anymore.
As much as I tried to bury my head in the sand and find baggier clothes to wear, I knew my time was almost up.
Was it going to be that I tell Charlie or get that one-way ticket to Wasilla?
Chapter Twelve
Charlie
“Mr. Beck,” Margot called. “Can you help out with the drive-thru window? We’re slammed at the counter right now.”
I tossed my pen down and headed out front.
There was a line eight deep at each register, and all of the booths were full.
I had really thought things would die down after the reopening, but they had done anything but that.
Margot tossed the headset to me, and I strutted to the register by the drive-thru window.
“Welcome to Chicken Biscuit. What can I get started for you today?” I asked.
“I already ordered,” the person called.
I switched off the microphone and opened the window after checking the next order on the register. “That will be twenty-nine fourteen.”
“Charlie.” Missy sat there in her car with Bandit next to her. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and her cheeks were flush. “I, uh, just wanted some biscuits,” she stammered.
Missy always did love the biscuits. She always bugged me to bring some over or even came into the restaurant while I was working to see if she could get a free biscuit or two.
I hadn’t seen her since I had stupidly tried to tell her I wanted her back but couldn’t get the words out. I had driven past her house more times than I cared to admit and had even stood on her doorstep a few times.
She nervously tugged on her shirt and held her money out to me.
I stared at her money. “I can’t take that.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Your money is no good here, Missy.” I turned to grab her order that had just slid down and held it out to her.
“I didn’t pay for that.”
“Yeah, you did.”
The car behind her honked.
