Page 100 of The Promise Of You

Justin doesn’t comment on my somewhat lengthy description of the restaurant staff, and I think I know what he’s thinking.

That I owe him three months’ worth of rent.

I still wonder why Lynn said what she said to me at dinner the other night. All those questions about closing down. There’s no smoke without a fire. And her questions were super specific. These types of questions don’t pop up without something to fuel them.

“About the rent…” I start. We need to have this conversation. “We really need to talk about it.”

He flips his blinker and pulls into a parking lot next to a warehouse. Ignores my question, opens his door, opens Moose’s door. A guy comes out of nowhere, they do the backslapping thing and move to the bed of his truck.

Oh well. I slide out of my seat and stretch my legs. It’s getting very dark now, not quite night yet. The sky is a deep blue, the new moon a slim sliver casting no light. Its delicate shape reminds me of a print in my childhood bedroom, of a girl sitting on the moon, the stars all around her. I wonder what became of that print, and stupidly my heart clenches. What became of all the dreams I had, growing up?

Time to be adulting, Chloe. Life is tough, and then you die. Deal with it.

“Ready?” Justin asks after he’s dealt with the guy and the equipment, and I’ve had my little dreaming awake session. “Let’s have a burger before we head back. I know the best place in the state.”

“Best burgers in the state? Coming from you, must mean something.”

We drive down a small road and park next to a red barn-like building. The Mighty Burger—that’s the name of the place—delivers on all fronts. Rustic, mismatched tables and chairs, menus in neat handwriting on massive blackboards above the ordering station, a huge selection of draft beers—mostly local—and merchandise. And the burgers! My god the burgers. Now that’s a brand. “Wish I could do something like that with the restaurant,” I mumble between two bites, really talking to myself.

“You want to turn Kevin’s Fine Dining into a burger joint?” Justin teases.

“Branding. Everything here is on point.” I take another bite and wipe the sauce dripping down my chin. “Need to entirely rethink the restaurant placement in the market.” Justin is not saying anything. He’s glancing at me like he’s waiting for me to say more. Almost like he’s afraid of what he’s going to hear.

I really do need to get to the bottom of what his mom said. I interrupted him earlier, when he brought up what Lynn asked me, because I was afraid of what he was going to say. Afraid to hear something I wasn’t ready to hear.

I’d been let go almost two months ago. And yeah, I took this job to help my family but not without the understanding that success here would help my resume.

Then the chef gave me a tough time from the beginning.

And now I have to convince my own family to trust me.

Last thing I need is the landlord telling me he’s pulling the plug.

But if that’s what he’s going to do, then I do need to know.

The sooner the better.

“About the late rent. And what your mom said. We need to talk.”

He plops a French fry in his mouth and says, “Why?”

Um. Why? “I need to know what… your intentions are. If you’re willing to work with us. And if you would—”

“Us?”

“Yeah. The restaurant.”

He wipes his hands on a paper napkin, tosses it in his empty French fries container, moves the container to the side. “Us.” His gaze bores into mine, then drips down to my lips. Us. We’d played with that word, with that idea, during our time away from time. He remembers. He knows I’m thinking about that too. Yeah, we should talk about that too.

“I’m willing to work with you, Chloe.”

“Okay, yeah. Um.” What’s the difference, at the end of the day?

“I don’t trust Samuel. I certainly didn’t trust Murphy. And I do not trust his widow or his family. Only person I trust is you.”

“Why?”

His only answer is a frown.

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