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It usually did at this time of year.
I wiped away my tears and stood up, straightening out the wrinkles in my skirt. I’d been mistaken for a waitress on more than one occasion while wearing our uniform—andthatwas a compliment. Nobody was impressed when I told them I sold candy for a living, especially not anyone with two kids and a mortgage. My white skirt stopped two inches above my knees, paired with a tight-fitting orange shirt. To top off the ensemble, we wore white aprons and looked like we’d been slaving away in some magical candy kitchen, creating fantastical sugary treats.
We opened a bag and poured candy in a jar. End of story.
Our boss emphasized presentation: perfectly aligned canisters, attractive displays, and a well-groomed staff. He even gave us plastic hair clips to use if we wore our hair up. Cherries, orange slices, or little multicolored candies were our options.
Needless to say, I always wore my hair down.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Alexia?” April asked, touching my shoulder as I walked by.
“I’m outta here,” I announced, grabbing my purse from the drawer behind the register and digging for my keys. “You coming?”
“I’m going to be five more minutes,” she said from behind me. “Go ahead and take off.”
“Okay. Just remember…”
“Yeah?”
A lump formed in my throat. “Just remember you’re taking my shift tomorrow.”
“Will do. Remember you’re taking mine on Saturday,” she sang melodically.
Damn. Saturdays sucked. The store was like a zoo because we were located near a pizza shop, not to mention the movie theater was just a short walk up the street. Parents often dropped their kids off in herds, and telling a bunch of rowdy eleven-year-olds to behave when their moms weren’t around was an exercise in futility.
“I won’t forget,” I replied with a sarcastic smile. “Can’t wait.”
“Liar.”
The silver bell at the entrance jingled as the door closed behind me.
Then the sight of my own damn car made me want to start crying all over again. “What the hell is wrong with you, Lexi? Can’t you keep it together for one day? It’s not eventheday and you’re already a hot mess,” I muttered.
“Alexia!” April yelled out. Only my close friends and family called me Lexi, but at work and otherwise, I went by my full name.
April held her thumb and pinky finger up to her face in that universal “you’ve got a phone call” gesture.
“Now what?” I murmured. My stomach knotted because nobody called me this late. It was well known I was probably the only twenty-something living in Austin without a cell phone. But hey, I never liked being accessible.
“Who is it?” I asked, walking past her to the counter. We had one of those ancient rotary phones, except ours had push buttons. Charlie, our boss, liked the retro look. There were small touches throughout the store and customers often shared memories of things they remembered from their own childhoods.
April eased up to the counter, blatantly eavesdropping to her heart’s content.
“Hello?”
“Lexi, it’s me. Let’s talk.”
The asshole.
“We don’t talk anymore, remember?” I bit out. Not since Beckett had cheated on me with another woman, in my car.
Mycar.
I’d put the car up for sale two days ago and hadn’t received a single inquiry. The thought of driving it made my stomach boil, and the memory of catching them having sex in it was unbearable. The whole thing was still fresh in my mind. Beckett’s Mustang had been in the shop, so I’d lent him my car. One night, a friend of mine swung by Sweet Treats and I asked her if she could give me a lift to the bar where Beckett worked. I wanted to surprise him and play a little air hockey until his shift ended.
We pulled into the parking lot of Ducky’s Dive, and as we passed my car, I yelled out for her to hit the brakes. It looked like a shadow was moving around inside, so I stuck my face up to the window. I saw Beckett stretched against the back seat with a brunette straddling him and riding him like a pony.
Oh yeah, it wasover.
