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She pops to standing. “We are all out of waffles, coffee, bread, butter, beer, you name it. There’s nothing here.”
“Is that your way of saying you don’t want my business?”
“No. Unfortunately—” She peers over her shoulder. “Uncle Eddie is hard of hearing now, but he’s a bit lost without Aunt Martina. Brando hadn’t been here for a few months—he was overseas so...” She presses her lips together as if regretting saying as much.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But he’s back now. I saw him the other day.”
“Yep, and my sisters sent me here to check on things. Thought I was a good candidate. Little did I know Brando beat me here and is working on, um, things.”
“If he needs help?—”
“No, we got it. We’re figuring things out. Thanks, though.”
I grip the back of my head and rub away the tension. “Does that mean now might not be a good time to ask for your help, Nugget?”
“My help?” She looks around the empty restaurant and then points to herself. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You were just the person I wanted to see.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Her bright amber eyes. “I find that hard to believe.”
Leaning on the counter, I say, “Is that so?”
Arms slung across her chest, she says, “Yeah. All things considered. Where do I start? I drove into you with my car and then you saw—” She takes a deep breath as if not quite able to apologize for her sister’s texts. “And a lot of stuff before that.”
“If anything, we’re even.”
She lets out a huff as if to say,Tell me what you need.
“I’ve encountered a little social snafu and could use a PR patch-up. If I recall, that’s your specialty.”
“I’m a waitress.”
“Sure, right now. Today. But ordinarily, you’re a public relations professional.”
“I was. Things—” She takes a deep breath. “Escalated.”
“Relatable. Obviously, you saw the news. It turns out we co-jilted and in order to retain some level of respect in the sports community, I’d like to do a big cover-up and walk back the biggest wedding of the year.”
She squawks a laugh. “The biggest wedding of the year?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know this, but Jayda Webster stands to inherit billions from the Barnstable fortune—on her mother’s side.”
“Then I guess I can’t accuse you of being a gold digger.”
“Nothing of the sort.” As I speak, Chip’s will and the treasure CJ insists exists float through my mind like a slow-moving sailboat. I give my heada little shake.
“So, you were going to get married but backed out. I wasn’t sure what to believe.”
I feel the sudden need to elaborate. “It was a fake marriage. She and I hardly knew each other. I couldn’t go through with it, not only because it’s dishonest, but I don’t know...” I gaze at the ceiling because looking at the woman across from me makes me wonder about my motives, about the hope that I always held onto that there was someone out there for me.
Our gazes slowly drift together. She has the same mischievous gleam in her eyes, hidden behind fatigue. She must be worried about her uncle after losing her aunt not long ago.
“Can you help?” I ask after a beat.
“If the arrangement felt dishonest, why not be honest?”
“Because journalists are writing hit pieces on me.” I pull up the ugliest one on my phone. “This is ninety-nine percent lies.”
