Will turned to finish unloading the fruit and vegetables. I went to follow him out back, to help, like I always did.
“No!” he said, turning around. I took a step back. “I mean, I can unload myself. Just take care of the customers.”
Claire, Will’s niece, who must have accompanied him to work that morning, came bounding into the kitchen, her blond dreads piled on her head in a tight nest. I’d begged her to contain her hair, as too many customers were finding her strands in their omelettes. Finally she relented when her uncle jokingly threatened to send her back to live with her folks in Slidell, something I knew he’d never really do. He was thrilled to have her live with him while she went to art school. And I was becoming as smitten with her as he was.
“Hey, lovebirds, get a room,” she singsonged, shrugging off her jacket.
It was a phrase she’d been overusing over these past few weeks, because we could barely keep our hands off each other. She plucked a fat strawberry from a pile in the strainer and shoved it in her mouth. Our flat expressions, our dense silence must have given off a palpable tension. She glanced at me, then Will.
“O-kay then. I’ll just … go find Dell,” she said, slinking out to the dining room, rightly afraid of the storm brewing over our heads.
I looked into Will’s haunted eyes.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” I whispered. “Everyone tippy-toeing around us. Because if so, I’m happy to hand in my resignation. Today. Now.”
I was astonished at my own resolve. But I meant it. And he knew it. He raked his fingers through his sleep-flattened hair. Was he grayer than yesterday?
“Please don’t do that,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“For what, Will? For everything?”
“No. Not for everything, but definitely for the way I behaved last night. I know I left you feeling bad about yourself. I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”
I took a step toward him as though it were the most natural thing in the world to throw my arms around him, to accept his apology. He put up his hand as a barrier, keeping his voice even, calm, as though talking to a scared animal.
“Wait. No. The thing is, Cassie … I’ve been thinking … I’ve been up all night thinking … and I realize that I probably rushed into things with you. Clearly you still have some loose strings to tie up, maybe with that guy, maybe with that … group you’re in.”
“There are no loose strings, Will. There is no guy. Jesse is a friend. And there is no group. I left that … group once I realized you and I were … that we could—”
“That we could what? Finally be together? Right. As if you were pining away for me.”
Indignation flooded in. “Is that what you wanted me to be doing?”
“No, I mean … I meant … that’s what I was doing.”
“Ha. Wait. You’re telling me you were pining away for me while living with and sleeping with a beautiful young woman who was about to have what you thought was your baby. Meanwhile, I was supposed to stay celibate, not date, not have sex with anyone else, but instead sit around waiting for your relationship to die so that I could finally have you?”
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his face furiously, trying to dig out a better answer. “I’m an asshole.”
“No argument from me on that,” I said. “Because yeah, you’re right, Will, I wasn’t waiting around. And frankly, now that it’s looking like it’s over again between us, I’m still not waiting around.”
We were a foot apart now, both incredulous at the things that were coming out of each other’s mouths. We seemed to be marinating in speechlessness and shock.
“Seriously. Tell me now, Will. Should I hand in my resignation?”
He straightened up, and when he spoke his voice was gentle, insistent.
“Cassie, as I tried to say last night, but couldn’t, you are one of the best employees I’ve ever had. I don’t want that to change. I want you to continue working here and training your replacements at the Café so you can manage the restaurant upstairs. It is going to be named Cassie’s, since that’s the name I registered, that’s the name on the liquor license, that’s the name that’s going to be on all the invoices and menus I’ve printed, and on a sign that’s going to be delivered any minute now,” he said, checking his watch. “I haven’t changed my mind about that.”
I’d been staring at his lips the whole time he spoke, wanting to kiss him, wanting to slap him for the words issuing from them, willing myself not to cry, not to stammer. I placed one hand over my stomach and with the other I braced myself on the counter.
“Will, tell me something.”
“What?” His shoulders dropped. He knew what was coming.
“Did you ever love me?”
He looked down as though the answer were scribbled on a piece of paper balled up in one of his fists.