Leif and I get a table near the back of the café, and once a server comes by with waters, I open my menu to have something to do.
He seems different, now. I’m not sure how, and I’m not sure I like it.
Operative words being not sure.
Because part of me does like it.
I’m not sure why.
I scan the menu and decide on a turkey and avocado sandwich on sourdough.
Except now, if I close my menu, I’ll have to look at Leif, so I continue scanning, reading every entry once, twice, three times.
“Interesting reading?” he says from across the table.
I don’t bother looking up. “Just deciding what I’d like to eat, if that’s all right with you.”
“I like this place,” he says.
“Did I ask you if you like it?”
“Nope.” He peeks over my menu. “What I was going to say is that I like this place, and I always get the same thing. The Reuben sandwich. They have this delicious marble rye. And they make their thousand island dressing in house. It’s more savory than commercial thousand island.”
“Again, did I ask?”
“You didn’t. I don’t care. That’s what I’m having, and I felt like telling you.”
“I hate sauerkraut,” I say.
“Did I ask?” he says dryly.
I almost want to laugh. I almost want to laugh because he’s giving me a taste of my own medicine. While normally I hate that, from him it almost seems…
Endearing?
No, that can’t be.
“They have the best chocolate pie,” Leif continues.
“I don’t eat chocolate.”
“Did I ask?” This time his tone is snide.
And it’s not even slightly endearing. I don’t joke about chocolate.
“Hello,” a woman’s voice says. “I’m Terry and I’ll be your server today. Would you like anything to drink besides your water?”
I look up. Terry is blond and perky and can’t take her eyes off of Leif.
Which, for some reason, bugs the hell out of me.
I decide to order first, if only to draw her gaze away from Leif. “Yes. I’d like a Diet Coke.”
“Absolutely.” She beams as she returns to my companion. “And for you, sir?”
“Bourbon. Basil Hayden’s. Neat. And also a Diet Coke.”
Bourbon? He’s drinking during the day?
A lot of people drink at lunch. I don’t drink much at all, so it seems odd to me.
“Absolutely.” Terry makes a few notes. “I’ll get these up for you right away. Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?”
“I know what I want.” Leif looks at me. “Kelly?”
I close the menu, lamenting that now I’m going to have to talk to Leif. “I’ll have the turkey and avocado on sourdough. A side salad, Italian dressing.”
“And you, sir?” Perky Terry asks.
“The Reuben on marble rye. Side of fries. Extra ketchup.” Leif gives her a wide grin.
Terry’s cheeks redden, and she giggles. “Absolutely, sir.” She turns around and walks away from the table.
I watch Leif.
Leif watches Terry.
I seethe.
“So you’re a day drinker?” I ask.
“No.”
“But you just—”
“I guess you bring it out in me, Kelly.”
My cheeks warm.
Am I truly that difficult?
I already know the answer. Macy and I have talked about it ad nauseum.
Which reminds me. I have a session with Macy this afternoon.
Terry returns momentarily with our drinks, still beaming at Leif.
Which really gnaws at my insides.
Leif thanks her and then takes a drink of his bourbon, followed by a drink of Diet Coke.
“Diet Coke chaser?” I say.
“Yeah. You want to try it?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
So many questions I want to ask Leif. He knows so much about my life—at least those five years I was on the island—but I know absolutely nothing about his.
All I know is that he was a Navy SEAL.
But how do I talk to this man when he so obviously hates me? I can’t even blame him for hating me. I’m not nice to people.
Or, as Macy says… I’m not nice to people who get too close.
I was perfectly cordial to Linda Parker at The Glass House, and I ended up with a job.
But try to get close to me? Get into my inner circle?
My claws come out.
Macy says it’s because of my childhood. Because of my mother. A mother is supposed to love her child more than anyone else, but all mine did was hurt me, so I’m scared to get close to anyone else. I come out fighting instead of letting them in.
She’s right, of course.
I need to try harder.
So I attempt a smile. “Why do you like a Reuben sandwich so much?”
“You’re asking this time?” He raises his eyebrows, which makes him look… I don’t know. “Because I do. Why do you like turkey and avocado?”
I sigh. I suppose I had that coming. I’ve been nothing but nasty to him for the last twenty-four hours.
So I decide to answer his question. “I’ve always loved turkey. I didn’t get it much as a kid. My mom was always working on Thanksgiving, but sometimes I got invited to a friend’s house. They always sent me home with some turkey leftovers.”
Which my mother always threw away, but I leave that part of the story out.
Leif lifts his eyebrows. “Did you truly just answer a question without being snotty or sarcastic?”
I scoff. “First time for everything, right?”
He lets out a breath. “Clearly you’re back to your old self.”
I open my mouth to respond when Terry brings our sandwiches, giving Leif her brightest smile. She slides the Reuben in front of him before she serves me.
“What ever happened to ladies first?” I ask, my tone laced with acid.
“God, Kelly…” Leif shakes his head.
Terry reddens. “Goodness, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be offended. His plate was a little bit heavier so I set it down first.”
Is she telling me the truth? I want to disbelieve her. Assume she was flirting with Leif and treating me with disdain.
But in my heart I know she wasn’t. As Macy is fond of saying, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” She doesn’t quote Sigmund Freud a lot, but that’s one of her favorites.
Leif is glaring at me as Terry turns and walks away.
“You owe her an apology,” he says.
“I don’t apologize.”
“Maybe you should. You just hurt her feelings for no reason. She set our plates down within a microsecond of each other. And she said herself that my plate was heavier, which it is. My sandwich is twice the size of yours, and I have fries.”
I open my mouth, but again, nothing comes out.
Until— “I apologize,” I squeak out.
“Don’t bother apologizing to me. I’m used to you. You should apologize to Terry when she returns.”
He’s right. I absolutely should.
I also know that I absolutely won’t.
I’ll just never come back here again. I’ll never see Terry again.
So why do I have this nagging feeling in my gut? Will apologizing to Terry help it go away?
I’m tired of always feeling this way. I wonder if this is how drug addicts or cigarette smokers feel, when they’re cut off and need that next hit.
Like something pecking at the back of your neck.
Because that’s what it is for me.
Something pecks at me, and it just never stops. Like an addiction.
I take a bite of my salad and then wipe the drip of dressing from my lips with my napkin.
The Italian dressing is too sweet, which drives me crazy. Why do restaurants like to put sugar in everything? Italian dressing is supposed to be savory, not sweet. I bet Buck would hate this.
Of course, the Tollhouse Café is not a tiny restaurant. It’s a brewpub, and it caters to the masses.
Leif takes a big bite of his sandwich, and one strand of sauerkraut hangs out over his lower lip. He slurps it up quickly and then dabs at his lips with his napkin.
“How’s your sandwich?” he asks.
“I haven’t tried it yet.”
If he cared, he would know that. He would’ve seen that I only took a bite of my salad.
Funny, after that kiss last night, I thought he was attracted to me.
I must’ve completely misread that. Why else would he kiss me? Because he’s a man and he was horny and I was there. It’s what men do.
I finish my salad, all the while lamenting over the sweetness of the dressing, and I finally take a bite of my sandwich.
Unlike the salad, the sandwich is delicious. Turkey and avocado is always an intoxicating combination for me and it’s dressed with some kind of garlic aioli.
I swallow. “Delicious.”
“The sandwich?” he asks.
“Yeah, you asked if I liked it. It’s delicious.”
He nods. “Good.” Then he takes another bite of his own sandwich, which is already half gone. As are his fries.
Terry has come by to refill his Diet Coke twice.
Each time she swings by, I think about apologizing to her.
And each time, I don’t.
Once we’re done, Leif signals for the check, which Terry brings quickly. He gives her his credit card before she leaves, and within thirty seconds she’s back.
Buck signs the receipt and stands. “Let’s go.”
He’s clearly angry at me. Glaring, actually.
But always a gentleman—despite what he says—he allows me to go first.
When I get to the exit, I turn. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to use the restroom.”
“Fine. I’ll be outside.”
I turn back into the restaurant, but I bypass the restroom, looking for Terry.
I find her on the way to a table to deliver an order. I don’t interrupt her, but once she’s done with the order, I waylay her in her path.
“Terry?”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to apologize for being rude to you. You didn’t deserve that. I just had a…”
“Don’t worry about it. We all have bad days.” She smiles. “I enjoyed serving you and your companion.”
“Leif. His name is Leif.”
“How long have you two been together?”
“We’re not together.” The words come out automatically. They’re true, after all. Except…something inside me kind of saddens.
“You’re not?” Her demeanor brightens.
“No.”
Terry fishes a pen out of her apron pocket. “Would you mind giving him my number then?”
Something surges into my gut. A feeling I don’t like. That need to lash out.
But I came in here to apologize to this woman. She clearly deserves an apology from me. However, that doesn’t mean I want to give Leif her number.
“Sure.” I say.
“Really? Great.” She writes her name and number on her pad, rips off the page, and hands it to me. “I appreciate that.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“You guys have a great rest of your day.” She smiles. A big wide smile on her ridiculously pretty face.
“Thank you. You too.” I leave the restaurant, shoving the piece of paper into my purse.
“Did you apologize?” Leif asks when I meet him on the sidewalk.
“Apologize? I went to the bathroom.”
“Nice try. I watched you. You walked right past the bathroom.”
“Maybe I went to the back.”
“Did I not tell you this is one of my favorite places? I come here a lot. I know exactly where the restrooms are, and there isn’t one in the back.”
“Fine. So I apologized.”
“Good. I’m proud of you.”
I scoff. “Proud of me? Just who are you to be proud of me?”
“God damn. You know what? I take it back. I take it all fucking back.” He stands out toward the street to hail a cab.
When a taxi slides across the lanes stops for us, Leif doesn’t wait for the cabbie. He opens the back door, and I get in. He gives the cabbie my address, and then he closes the door without getting inside the cab.
“Wait!” I yell.
But the cabbie drives off, leaving Leif standing on the sidewalk.