She leans closer and places her hand on my wringing ones, steadying them. “But what does the other part say? If you got a glimpse into the future and saw there was no more struggle and there was no more guilt over the sacrifices your family—me, that’s me, and kinda my job as your sister—has made, and you saw that Mike wasn’t a part of that future, would you be sad about it?”
Her words immediately make my eyebrows shoot upward, and I fall back against my seat, letting out a whoosh of air. “Wow.” I glance away, not really seeing anything with my eyes but the image that put inside my mind. “Um… well… just off the top of my head… no.” My eyes meet hers once again. “That thought doesn’t spark any kind of sad emotion in me, surprisingly. If I knew for a fact that things will work out good for me without Mike…” I shrug. “I don’t think I’d have any hesitation about letting him go completely.”
I don’t mention that a blip of Winston’s handsome face crosses my mind at the end of that image of my future happiness.
She smiles encouragingly. “And there’s your answer.”
8
Winston
One month later
“…fill the rest with pineapple juice, and garnish with a cherry,” Cece finishes, plopping a cherry on top of the drink she just made as part of her test I’m giving her. Completely comfortable in her role as a waitress for the past six months, she asked about becoming a bartender to help out with the schedule, since the duty was split between me and Steph. And since I needed to be in the kitchen during dinner, that didn’t give Steph much time off in the evenings. We had a bartender temporarily, but he quit after a month or so once he found a job in Nashville.
“That was perfect. Now, the true test. Make me an Old Fashioned,” I tell her and smile as she eyes the ten drinks lining the bar that she’s made flawlessly. Anything Cece tries, she seems to be able to do it effortlessly. The woman is amazing and has no idea.
“This seems kinda… wasteful, doesn’t it, boss?” She winces, the expression adorable on her pretty face.
And is it sick of me to have to fight back a hard-on every time she calls me boss? It’s either that or Win, never Winston, at least not to my face. I overheard her telling Steph that no guy who’s as hot as me should have a geeky name like Winston. I was too busy floating on cloud nine that she thought I was hot to embarrass her that I heard her and point out that Winston is a family name, and my dad, in fact, is totally a geek. Hence why my family was loaded enough for me to have a trust fund large enough to open this restaurant.
Nope, none of that was important.
Just the fact that Cecilia Willimson thinks this dude with the nerdy name is hot.
That is all.
“Normally, we’d give the drinks out free to customers, but seeing as no one came in because of the shitty weather, I guess we’ll just have to toss them… or drink them ourselves,” I suggest, and I hold my breath while I wait for her reaction. It’s just the two of us here this evening. I sent everyone else home when we figured no one would be driving in this awful thunderstorm, and since Cece’s ex has the kids until her sister gets off work, we thought it was the perfect opportunity to finally get her ready for bartending.
She looks up at me wide-eyed. “I… um. I don’t know how wise that would be, trying to make it home in this weather after drinking. I doubt there are many Uber drivers available tonight.”
I shrug. “I could always take you home. I’ll just taste test each one, and you can drink as much as you want. It’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon,” I say, glancing out the window and seeing the rain starting to come in sideways.
Just then, an awful wailing noise comes from inside Cece’s apron, and she practically jumps out of her skin. She drops the soda nozzle she was holding and pulls her phone out of her front pocket, shutting off the alarm. Her eyebrows lower, and she looks up at me. “Tornado warning.”
“How long have you lived here?” I smile, tilting my head.
“Almost eleven years,” she replies.
I chuckle. “And you still keep your inclement weather alarm on? You should know by now these happen all the time.”
She narrows her eyes on me. “I am a mother of three. It is my duty to worry about everything.”
“Do you want to call and check on your girls?” I ask her, and she bites her lip in indecision as she glances back down at her phone. I can see the worry marring her expression, and I know she wants to make sure they’re all right, even if it does require her to call her ex. I feel the same way, but at least I would just be calling my ex’s parents, not the wicked witch herself.