My Bittersweet Summer (22 page)

“Look, I know you don’t want me here, but your dad thought it was a good idea if I hang out until he and your mom come home. I wasn’t sure earlier today, but Matt’s pretty pissed, and he might try to cause more trouble. Probably not tonight, but it’s better to be safe than be kicking myself later that I didn’t expect the worst from him. You don’t even have to talk to me, all right?”

Disgusted the precaution was even necessary, never mind that I hated Zach being there, I spun on my heel and stalked down the hall, slamming my bedroom door. Cringing at the noise, I instantly regretted it, but locked it before crawling under the covers to wait for the drugs to kick in.

August couldn’t come soon enough.

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Sitting up in bed, I looked at the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. I listened carefully, not hearing water running as my parents got ready for bed, but I definitely heard quiet voices in another room.

Thinking I should at least reassure them I was okay, I unlocked my door and opened it a crack. Light from the TV flickered in the living room, the sounds coming from that direction. Were my parents watching something so late?

I crept into the hall and down towards the living room, the floorboards creaking softly as I went. But when I poked my head in to see, it wasn’t my parents on the couch.

Zach sat with his elbows on his knees, his gaze intent on the screen, something animated putting this strange, soft smile on his face. As much as I hated to admit it, he didn’t look like a big jerk when he watched cartoons.
 

He looked… Nice. He looked safe.

I shook myself. Zach had never been safe. Not ever. Not for me. Zach had trampled me as a kid and thrown me under the Matt bus as an adult. But as I watched him, just sitting there being himself, the person he looked like at that moment felt like the kind of person that might be an okay guy. He wasn’t trying to be anybody. He wasn’t out to get anything. He wasn’t attempting to prove himself.

He was just… Zach.

“You’re welcome to join me.”

I jumped. He knew I was there?

He paused the movie and turned, smiling at me with this amused look. “I can restart it if you want. I’ve seen it a million times, so I don’t mind.”

“Why are you still here?”

He shrugged. “Your dad sent me a text. He said they’re going up to the main house to go over stuff with my parents. Restaurant things. I said I’d stay as long as they need me to. It’ll probably be another hour at least. How’s your head? You said you get migraines so I was trying to be quiet. Did I wake you?”

My hand flew up to my hair, instantly self-conscious about how it must’ve looked between my panic attack and passing out in bed. “I’m fine. And no, you didn’t wake me.”

Zach stood up and walked across the room, stepping past me as I plastered myself to the wall. “Go sit. I’ll make some tea,” he said on his way to the kitchen.

He was so relaxed and completely blasé about the whole situation, I wasn’t sure how to act. No way would I get back to sleep with him in the living room, so I took the far corner of the couch and barricaded myself with a blanket and pillows from the storage box against the wall. I did my best to comb through my hair with my fingers, though I should’ve let it be. Maybe if I looked like a wild animal, he’d keep his distance.

Zach wandered back in a few minutes later and set two mugs on the coffee table in front of the couch. He looked at me for a moment, confused.

“What?”

“Doesn’t watching TV make a migraine worse? You don’t have to if—”

“Two pills and a nap and I’m fine. They’re stress headaches. Just keep the volume low. Unless you were planning on causing me more stress tonight?”

“No.”

I shrugged. “Then start the movie.”

He looked doubtful, but didn’t argue. The way I saw it, a movie would save me from having to talk to him. Staring at the ceiling in my bedroom, knowing he was in the house, would be a sure way to drive me crazy.

As he settled in on the opposite end of the couch, I reached for the mug, moving it to the side table by the armrest. The scent of lemon and honey drifted past my nose as I set it down, soothing my frayed nerves a little more.

Zach started the movie from the beginning, and, oddly enough, I was immediately caught up in the weird story about a cat and his magic bag saving a kingdom in another dimension. I couldn’t say exactly what it was, but something about the nostalgic characters and odd world charmed me.

At some point near the last twenty minutes of the movie, my parents wandered in. They stood there a minute, but didn’t say a word, heading off to bed before I remembered to say goodnight.

As the credits rolled, I set my empty mug aside, opening my mouth to say something, but immediately forgetting what it was when I looked over at Zach.

He was staring at me, smiling.

“What?” My cheeks heated.

He grinned at me, shaking his head. “Nothing. So what did you think?”

“It was cute. The voices were a little weird, and it’s sort of dated, but it wasn’t terrible.”

Zach chuckled and leaned back, his arm stretched out along the top of the couch. “That’s some pretty high praise there. Don’t get too excited, Margie.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s an animated movie about a cartoon cat. It’s not exactly the kind of stuff I normally watch.”

The conversation sank into silence, but talking to Zach Robinson wasn’t really high on my list of things I wanted to do. Still, it was kind of nice that he sat up waiting for my parents to come home so I wouldn’t be alone, and I wasn’t going to be a jerk and kick him out.

“So, the truth,” he said, watching me. “Are you really okay? I mean, your mom and dad are back, but I’ll stay if you want. I’ve got more movies in my backpack.”

My brows bunched together. “Why do you have movies in your backpack?”

He looked away, shrugging. “Wishful thinking, maybe.”

“Wishful thinking?”

His lips fluttered as he blew out a sigh. “Hoping you’d change your mind, I guess.”

That again? “Look, Zach, I appreciate you doing… whatever it was you did tonight, but—”

He stood up and waved me off. “It’s okay. I… I get it now, for what it’s worth. I thought I understood before what you meant when you talked about, you know, the panic attacks and things, but seeing it tonight…” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I’m sorry, Margie. I mean it. I know now. I get it. I won’t push you any more, I promise. Before, I guess I thought it would just be like getting to know each other, like regular people do, but that’s not how it is with us. I get that now, and I want you to understand that I get it.”

Not really knowing how to respond, I sat there, picking at the little fuzzballs piled on the blanket.

“You didn’t answer my question, though.”

I glanced up at him. “What question?”

“Are you okay?”

I flicked a fuzzball off of my knee and nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay. Good.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, another awkward silence invading the living room.

“So… I guess I’ll go then.”

As he crossed to the DVD player, I watched him, battling internally with my need to be nice and my need to keep myself safe. Maybe he was just spouting more pretty words at me, but it felt different this time. I’d actually
seen
him do something decent for me, and in front of other people, at that. I certainly wasn’t about to get all cozy with him again, not after last time, but maybe he deserved a little more than total loathing and apathy.

The movie case clicked closed and he straightened as he stuffed it in his black backpack, heading for the front door.

Three in, six out.

“Hey, Zach…”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

I flinched a smile. “Maybe… maybe one more movie would be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

I grimaced. “No, so don’t screw it up, okay?”

The backpack settled in front of the couch as he slowly lowered himself back down to the cushion. “If you want me to leave, it’s fine, you know. It is late.”

“Are you trying to talk sense into me?”

Zach sat up straight and immediately dug into his bag. “Nope. Not at all. So, what will it be, sappy Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock time travel, or campy space superheroes with one of the greatest scores of all time?”

Unable to fight it, I smiled and shook my head. “Flip a coin. Then you’ve all got a fifty-fifty chance with me.”

After a full day of rest on Wednesday, I was ready to tackle the insanity of the Fourth of July on Carrinaw Island. People from all over the area flocked to the beach every year to get the best view of the fireworks. The entire town smelled like a barbecue from about ten in the morning until well into the wee hours of the fifth. It was a tradition I remembered well from when I was a kid, and it hadn’t changed much in the years I’d been away.

I was stuck in the front of the house that afternoon, but I kept my chin up knowing that at dinner I’d be back in the kitchen and away from the ever-drunker clientele for the evening shift. The lunch rush was winding down around one-thirty, and I felt pretty good about how I’d managed the crush of people wanting in the door. Honestly, it was one of those days where I was completely on top of my game in all respects. I kept people smiling as they waited, I seated tables and got drink orders, and I booked no fewer than twenty reservations for the end of the month over the phone. Basically, I was a hostessing machine.

It was around the time I was congratulating myself on a job really well done when it the day shattered into teeny tiny pieces.

Because of course it would.

At a quarter to three, the front door opened, and I looked up with a smile. A waif-like woman with long brown hair and a patronizing look floated in as her date held the door. Right behind her, Matt freaking Rosenberg strode through the entryway. My mask of pleasantry froze on my face. Keeping it together was absolutely crucial. I wouldn’t be the cause of an incident in the restaurant just when it was finally starting to take off.

“Welcome to Le Beau Tournée,” I said mechanically. “Two?”

“The mouse can count.” Matt smirked. “Yeah, two.”

Ignoring him, I checked over the seating chart to see who was due a table next, as all of the lunch reservations had shown or cancelled. I tried not to wince when I saw Lindy’s two top was free. Matt would walk all over that poor girl. I checked over my shoulder. Everyone else was swamped.

“A table just opened up,” I said, gathering two menus and motioning them to my right. “This way, please.”

I led them through the main floor to the far corner, to a table overlooking the water. As they sat, I stood the brown leather menus up in front of them. “Your waitress will be along shortly to take your order, but today’s chef’s selection is the chateaubriand au poivre crème, accompanied by grilled asparagus, all on a bed of garlic mashed potatoes. Our soup of the day is a lobster bisque, accompanied by a leafy green salad with our house vinaigrette. Enjoy your meal, and Lindy will be by in just a moment to—”

“I’d rather you take our order, actually.” He flashed me an evil grin.

I met his look with a tight smile of my own. “In case you’re unfamiliar with fine dining, that’s typically the waiter’s job. I’m the hostess. I seat you. There’s also a chef in the back that cooks your food, and other people that take care of the things in the kitchen, like washing dishes. I’m sure your date can explain it to you further if you need more clarification.”

Not waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away, heading straight for the bar where Lindy was collecting drinks for another table.

“Heads up,” I said to her quietly. “I just sat a guy at your two top that’s guaranteed to be your biggest headache this week. Don’t take his crap, and let someone know if you’re having problems, okay? He’s also underage, so no alcohol.”

Her blonde eyebrows lifted and she glanced over my shoulder. “Oh… okay. Thanks for the warning.”

My message delivered, I glanced at the front to make sure no one else had come in before heading for the back office. A quick knock, and I poked my head in the door. “Hey, Dad?”

He looked up from the computer. “Yes?”

My face puckered as the news came out of my mouth. “Just thought I should let you know that Matt Rosenberg is out here. I don’t want there to be any trouble, but…”

His expression darkened, and he turned to the security monitor behind him, scanning the dining room for the customer in question. “Thanks, Margie. I’ll keep an eye on him. Let me know if you have any problems, all right?”

“Sure thing.” I ducked out again and headed for the hostess station.

“No, you listen.” Matt’s voice carried across the room, and I cringed. “I told you, I don’t want
you
to take our order, I want
her
to do it.”

Without looking, I could picture his face— his smug, entitled expression doing that thing where it looked like it was puffed up and swollen as he gestures wildly. I closed my eyes and counted.

Four in, eight out.

Nailing my polite smile in place, I met Lindy halfway across the dining room on my way to his table. She was pale and twitchy, and I knew she wasn’t equipped to handle the sort of abuse Matt was capable of dealing out.

“Margie, I’m so sorry, but—”

“It’s okay,” I said, touching her elbow. “I’ll take care of it.”

Sliding past her, I kept my breathing steady and my work face on. I wasn’t about to let him ruin the one place I felt needed and useful on the whole stupid island.

“Were you ready to order?” I looked at his date, keeping my focus on her so I didn’t slug him where he sat.

She gave me an apologetic shrug. “I… guess so.”

“What’s this beef thing?” Matt said, shoving his menu at me so violently, that I had to step back to dodge it.

I glanced at where he was pointing. “Beef bourguignon. It’s beef braised in Burgundy wine and broth, with garlic, onions, and mushrooms. One of our specialties.”