Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I stopped at my first table where a middle-aged woman was scanning the menu with rectangular glasses low on the bridge of her nose. She requested a water with lemon to start and after I prepared it and set it down on her table, I gave her a few more minutes to peruse the menu. I made my way to the next table. Two men sat there, one of whom had his back to me.
“Hello. Welcome to Franco’s,” I said, focusing on the man I could see. He was older with pasty, greasy-looking skin. He was balding at the crown of his head, and his nose was bulbous and red at the tip as he sniffled a bit. Definitely wasn’t a looker, but it was clear he had money by the way he was dressed in his crisp suit and the gleaming watch on his wrist. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too soon about him leaving a generous tip, though. It was always the rich people who stiffed me on gratuity. “I’m Brynn and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?” My eyes turned to the other man to level the attention and I instantly hitched a breath when familiar light-brown eyes locked with mine.
Oh, God.
I couldn’t believe it.
It was him.
Dominic Baker, my high school sweetheart. We’d dated when I was a sophomore, and he was a senior. He took me to prom, and shockingly, we won as prom king and queen. We were so young, so popular. Life felt unreal back then, like we were a famous couple. My chin was practically on the floor and my heart pumped twice as hard as I gawked at him.
Dominic appeared equally surprised to see me and I cursed internally for not putting on more makeup and at least attempting to look prettier that day.
“Brynn Wallace,” Dominic said, and his voice was like brown-sugared honey. It stuck to my insides, hot and sticky, as I got lost in his eyes. “Wow. Look at you. I never thought I’d see your beautiful face again.”
Beautiful face? He still found me beautiful? I’d put on a few pounds since high school—who hadn’t—and my skin was worse, thanks to the terrible fast food I ate. My hair was pulled into a low ponytail and needed a relaxer badly. But that was beside the point. Dominic Baker was sitting in front of me, and I’d never really gotten over this man. I’d tried, even after we drifted apart when he went to college. He’d stayed in North Carolina and attended Duke University with a full-ride academic scholarship, and though it was only a few hours away, the distance was unbearable. It was silly of us to think it would work—that our relationship would last despite it. Our relationship ended because of a slow pull away. Sometimes Dominic would go days without texting or calling me back, then other days we’d be on the phone at night for hours catching up. Eventually, that tapered off too. I can still remember the conversation we had that tore my heart to pieces.
“This isn’t working, is it?” he’d asked with a voice full of sorrow.
“No, it isn’t,” I answered.
I regretted those words, even more so now. I should’ve made it work. I should’ve gotten a damn car sooner than my junior year so I could drive to Duke and visit him. I was so proud to know he was going to that college. He was always so damn smart, so wise beyond his years. And sexy. God, was he sexy. We kept in touch every few weeks after the breakup, but that only lasted a few months.
Now, he looked good, dressed in an expensive gray suit, shiny shoes, with an expensive watch on his right wrist. The man sitting across from him looked between us with a critical eye, waiting for an explanation, or an introduction at the least.
Dominic, realizing his impoliteness, pulled his eyes away from mine and provided one. “John, this is my good friend from high school, Brynn. She was top cheerleader of her class. Went to Loyola University with a full-ride scholarship because she was so good.”
I blushed, and also wanted to throw up a bit. How could he brag about me when I looked like this? Dressed in pants too tight, a white button-down shirt with a monogrammed F on the chest, and a freaking waist apron over it stuffed with straws, loose papers, and pens. I was nothing now—a meager waitress in comparison to . . . whatever he was doing with his life. How could he not see that?
“Nice to meet you, Brynn,” John said. John’s eyes scanned me from head to toe. His tongue ran over his dry lips and there was something about him that made me feel gross beneath his stare. I let the thought go when his head dipped, and he focused on the menu. “Can I get a whiskey, neat? And I’ll start with the crawfish,” John said.