AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I meant it when I said I don’t date. Don’t think our fake dating will result in a real relationship. And to be clear, I’m not marrying you or anyone else. Ever.”
Asshole. “This is why I can’t be in a relationship with Mr. One and Done.”
His eyes narrowed, and a dangerous shift to his demeanor hung thickly in the air.
I didn’t care. I had more to say. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you. Your little girlfriend”—I air-quoted the word “girlfriend”—“with the big mouth and even bigger boobs is the reason I know I don’t want you. I’m not your type. And you sure as fuck aren’t mine.”
“Just because we’re having a kid together doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship,” he said in a growl.
I gripped the edge of the table hard and got a weird pain in my chest. I wasn’t even going to try to evaluate that or the way my eyes stung from holding back tears. “You need to go.”
“Finally, we can agree on one thing. I’m out of here.” He tossed a few bills on the table to cover the food then stormed out of the diner.
I’m fine. I repeated it several times until I felt calmer, then tucked into the remainder of my food. There were a lot of weird things about being pregnant, including the roller-coaster ride of emotions and exhaustion. But I had to say, food had never tasted so good.
When I finished, I leaned back in my seat and noticed how busy the place was. The servers looked too few to handle it. I needed a job, and this was within walking distance, so I wouldn’t have to pay for gas. After settling the bill, I had the server point out the manager then got an application and filled it out. He hired me on the spot and was even able to work around my schedule.
I would start after classes the next day, dinner shift. As I walked out, I felt better than I had all day.
I didn’t need Phoenix. I could take care of myself and the baby, especially since he’d proven that I couldn’t count on him. I would not make a mistake like that again.
* * *
Dinner shift at the diner was busy. A rush came through, and I had five tables at once. Thankfully, our hostess staggered their seating, so the kitchen and wait staff weren’t too swamped.
After refilling iced tea and water, I deposited the carafes at the bar and went to the kitchen to check on orders. Nausea hit me like a freight train, and I backed away, frantically swallowing as my mouth filled with excess saliva and the uncomfortable feeling that something was creeping up the back of my throat.
I dashed past Dylan, the owner, and to the restroom. My palms slammed into the door, and I rushed to the sink. I cranked the cold water and thrust my wrists under the spray, continuing to salivate profusely. Sweat beaded along my hairline, and it took a minute, but when I thought I could manage to bend without losing everything I’d eaten earlier, I splashed water on my face.
A soft knock sounded on the door, followed by Dylan’s voice. “Everything okay, Aspen?”
“Yeah.” I shut off the water and grabbed a few paper towels. Crisis averted, I opened the door to my boss leaning against the opposite wall. Great—first day and probably my last.
“I had Rita deliver your food.” His gaze bounced around my pale face. “Are you sick?”
There was no avoiding this. “No. Pregnant.” I wrung my hands. I needed this job.Please don’t fire me.“It was the tuna sandwich. The smell hit me hard.”
A small smile curved his kind face. “Come to my office. Let’s have a chat.”
Shit.With no other choice, I followed him to the small office in the back. It was about the size of a large closet with only enough room for his desk and two extra chairs pushed against the same wall. He waved to them, indicating I should have a seat, so I did.
He grabbed the chair at his desk and angled it toward me after a few clicks of his keyboard to pull up the schedule. “You’ve got a lot of shifts.”
“I need the money,” I injected hurriedly, panic sticky and hot along my clammy skin. Today was a light day because I was new. Even though I didn’t need to shadow another waitress because of my prior experience, Dylan preferred to start his new hires with a shorter first shift.
“Okay. If you don’t want to cut your hours, we can make adjustments and put you on hostess duty or something when you have trouble around the food.”
I nodded, some of the tension easing. I did the lion’s share of my homework on Sundays so that I could maintain a semi-balanced work-school schedule. “It’s only the tuna that got to me.” I pursed my lips, thinking. “And the fish sandwich wasn’t super pleasant, either.”
He chuckled. “For my wife, it was the smell of eggs.”
I grinned. “I don’t think that would go over well with me, either, to be honest.”
He tapped his finger on the desk. “I would rather you didn’t work many, if any, late shifts. I can move things around on the schedule to keep that to a minimum. And if you have large tables, the bussers will help you carry the trays out… or at any point you need help. I’ll make it known that will be part of their job and to pay attention.”
That would be strange, but it was a good idea. “Thanks. I’m okay right now, but it might be helpful later.”
“Are you feeling up to working today, or do you need to go home and rest?”
