He sits across the bar from the drink station and watches me make an order.
I’m thankful we aren’t too busy tonight. A nearby festival has stolen many of our customers with their live music and fried foods on sticks.
Can’t say I blame them. Fried foods? Yum.
The clock has moved slower than ever since I got here. I swear I look at it every ten minutes. I’ve almost picked up my phone and texted Oliver a dozen times, but I really want to talk to him in person.
Things were left awkwardly between us. I’m not sure how he feels about that. I didn’t return his sentiments for good reason. But now that I know I want to, I want it to be special.
“You look happy,” Paige says, slipping by me.
I laugh. “You and Nate. Why do you both say ‘You look happy’ like it’s a death sentence?”
“You’ve caught me at a weird moment in my life,” she says, tying her waist apron. “But that’s a story for another day.”
“Great.” I make a face at her, undeterred from my quest toward being happy. Forever.
My hand stills over a glass of Coke as I replay my last thought.
Forever.
The thought of forever scares the shit out of me.
I wasn’t sold on the concept when I married Luca, but he was a good salesperson. Even if I didn’t go all-in on the idea of being with him for eternity, I took out a lease. I hoped I’d emotionally upgrade at some point. After all, it was the best thing that had happened to me.
And maybe it would’ve been that way for the rest of my life if Luca hadn’t changed.
But he did. So there’s that.
I place the glasses on a tray.
“Do you know about this mystery boyfriend of hers?” Paige asks Nate.
Nate scowls. “I’ve heard. Not sure I like him.”
“Well, he’s not sure he likes you either,” I say, laughing.
“Really?” Nate furrows his brow. “What’s not to like?”
“Oh, the fact that she works here with you and that you’re great friends—if I were a guessing girl,” Paige says.
I wrinkle my nose at Nate. “Accurate.”
“Well, fuck him. If he has something to say about it, he can say it to my face.”
Paige’s eyes go wide as she looks toward the dining room. “He might just be here to do that.”
“What?” I spin around.
My jaw tumbles to the floor.
I scramble to compose myself—to quiet the thundering of my heart in my ears. But there’s no way to play this off.
He’s here to see me.
Marius’s eyes lock with mine. A slow smile graces his lips.
“Holy shit, Shaye. He’s gorgeous,” Paige whispers, jabbing me with her elbow.
I unwind my gaze with his and turn to Nate. He’s watching me with a careful, knowing eye.
“Need help?” Nate asks, his voice calculated.
“That’s … that’s not Oliver.”
“My question remains.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, to run or attempt to defuse the situation that feels more and more like a ticking bomb.
Why is he here? Is he freaking serious?
Nate starts to get up.
“I got this,” I say, motioning for him to sit.
“Who is he?” Nate asks.
“Marius … something or other. I met him at the gala.”
“Oh.” Nate glances at Marius over his shoulder. “Nope. Don’t like him.”
“You don’t even know him.”
Paige giggles. “I like him. I mean, I don’t know what y’all are looking at, but if you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”
Nate glares at her.
She winces. “I’ll just go check on my tables.”
I give her an apologetic smile and turn back to Nate. “I’m going to go talk to him. He sent me thirty roses.”
His eyes shoot to the ceiling.
“I know.” I groan. “I gave them to Paige.”
“How’d Mason take that?”
I hem-haw around the question. Nate doesn’t miss a beat.
“You didn’t tell him?” He pauses, giving me a chance to answer. “Shaye.”
“No, I didn’t tell him. I was going to tell him tonight. I am going to tell him tonight. Right after I apparently tell him Marius came to see me.” I groan again. “I’m going to tell him to leave me alone. Get my point across.”
Nate grins. “I can get that point across.”
I smack his arm. “No. You aren’t hitting him.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Ignoring him, I walk around the corner. “Murray! Can you take these drinks to table sixteen?”
“Sure thing,” he yells back.
I wipe my hands on a towel and then toss it at Nate. He ducks the throw easily, snapping it out of the air and placing it in front of him.
My anxiety creeps up my spine as I get closer to Marius. I have no idea what I could’ve done, or said, to lead him into believing that I wanted flowers or a date. Regardless, he needs to stop this.
“There you are,” he says, his voice smooth. “How are you, Shaye?”
I smile as politely as I can through my nerves. “I’m good.”