I woke in a bed.
After slowly opening my eyes, I looked over and noticed I was alone. I couldn’t remember falling asleep or getting into a bed—a bed that wasn’t mine. I didn’t feel hungover, drugged, or anything like that, so I didn’t understand how I didn’t remember anything except watching a movie on Ethan’s couch.
I lifted the covers, looking down to see that I was still in my clothes except for my shoes. Turning my head, I noticed a piece of paper on the pillow next to me. I sat up and grabbed it.
Buttercup,
You’re still cute when you snore.
Key is by your purse. Lock up when you leave,
and I’ll stop by Judy’s tonight to get it.
-E
I did not snore. Okay, I did, but only when I was really tired. It all made sense why I couldn’t remember falling asleep in Ethan’s bed. I must have fallen asleep during the movie and didn’t wake when he carried me to bed. Did he carry me to bed? He had to have. Working on my feet wore me out and then we were up later than I was used to. Usually after work, I’d go home, take a shower, and be in bed by one, not reminiscing with my high school boyfriend until whatever hour it was that I finally fell asleep.
But I didn’t regret staying.
Ethan’s bed was fucking comfortable.
Every time the front door of Judy’s opened, I looked for Ethan. I really wanted to see him again. He was currently my only friend in Chicago, and honestly, I was okay with that.
The night before had been nice. He didn’t grill me about why I’d broken up with him all those years ago, and I didn’t pry and ask how long he’d been divorced. I wanted it to be a long time so that I wasn’t his rebound—if anything happened. It was as if we were starting over in a sense, putting our childhood in the past and moving forward as adults.
And that excited me.
The door opened again, and I glanced up. Two women entered, and I turned my attention back to the beer I was pouring from the tap. The door opened once more, but again it wasn’t who I wanted to see walk through them.
“Waiting for someone?”
I looked over to see Derrick standing next to me, refilling the limes and lemons. We were the only ones on the floor because Frank was on break and the other barback had left for the night.
“Yeah, my friend’s stopping by to grab something I have.”
“The guy from last night?”
I wrinkled my eyebrows, confused, but then remembered he must have noticed I left with Ethan. “Yeah, him.” I slid the beer in front of the customer and grabbed his money to ring him up.
“Thought you didn’t have a boyfriend?” Derrick asked, moving to stack empty glasses under the bar top.
I huffed. “I don’t.”
“But you left with him last night.” It wasn’t a question.
“Why do you care who I left with?”
“Just making small talk.”
I stopped pressing the buttons on the POS system and turned to face him. “We just met last night,” I waved my hand between him and me, “and I get that we’re going to work together, but I don’t need you questioning my personal life.”
He held up his hands. “Whoa, I’m just trying to make conversation and get to know you.”
“Getting to know me is asking me what my favorite color is. Or my favorite flower. Not grilling me about a guy I left with last night.” I wasn’t sure why I was so put off by his questioning, but I was a forty-one-year-old woman, and if I wanted to go home with a man, that was my decision.
Derrick leaned a hip on the cabinets that held extra bottles of alcohol behind the bar and faced me. “Okay, what’s your favorite color?”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Purple.”
“And your favorite flower?”
I paused. Not because I didn’t know, but because I remembered the note Ethan had left me this morning and it gave me hope that we’d become a ‘we’ again.
“Buttercups.”
Derrick balked as though he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Buttercups? That’s a thing?”
I laughed and returned to the POS system, finishing the transaction and grabbing the customer’s change. “Yes, and specifically the Parisian ones.”
He lifted off the counter and turned to grab the overflowing garbage bag. “I’m going to have to Google that and see what they look like.”
“You do that.”
I hadn’t had time to check my phone after my dinner break for any missed calls from Ethan because it was Friday night and we’d been slammed. Walking to my locker for my purse so I could call it a night, I fished my phone from my back pocket and hoped he had sent a text. He had:
Caught a case. I’ll try to stop by before you get off at 12, but if not, keep the key.
I texted him back as I leaned on the lockers:
Just getting off now. Should I wait?
I removed my purse from my locker as I waited for his reply.
Ethan: Sorry, Buttercup. I’m at the station. Meet for lunch?
As I walked out the back door toward my parked car, I replied:
Sure. Just tell me the place and I’ll meet you there.
“Have a good night, Reagan.”
I started slightly and turned to see Derrick leaning against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. “Thanks, you too.”
“Oh, I will.”
I didn’t know what that meant, exactly, and I wasn’t going to ask and fuel whatever game he was playing. I got the vibe that he had a crush on me or something, and if anything, I wanted to be with a man like Ethan and not a boy like Derrick. Though, I didn’t exactly know his age.