Page 42 of The Finish Line

“You didn’t have to help, you know.”

He cocks his head. “You know damn well I’m not irritated because I’m helping. I wanted to.”

“Well, you don’t have to play dirty to talk to me.”

“You sure about that? Because we haven’t had a real conversation since I got here.”

“And now is not the time.”

“When would be a good time?”

My silence only angers him further as he grabs a plastic bag and shoves the box inside.

“I’m adjusting, Tobias, and I’m thankful for the help, but need I remind you, you’re a billionaire, not a busboy.”

“And you’re a millionaire, not a waitress. What the hell does that matter? I’m whatever you need me to be.” He studies me for a second before closing his eyes and placing his hands on the metal countertop, seeming to muster up some patience. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, full of disappointment. “I’ll be out of your way when I finish up with the tables.” He gathers the bag, and without another word, walks through the double doors.

“Condom or knife?” Marissa nudges me, sidling up to me at the counter, my focus on Tobias, who’s drawing with a little girl in the reading nook while he chats with her grandmother. We got a secondary rush after the kids left, a rarity. Despite our conversation, Tobias stayed to help us out, bussing tables without a word while running circles around Marissa and me.

“What?”

“Condom or knife. The ex-dilemma. When they first come back, you don’t know whether to fuck them or kill them, am I right?”

“Nailed it,” I chuckle, clearing the counter of some plates. “If you only knew.” Which she doesn’t and most definitely never will. That’s the crux of being in a relationship with a man like Tobias.

Restless, I spent last night in my garden planting spring bulbs as he typed away on his keyboard in one of my patio chairs. Every so often, I would catch him staring at me, and I would return it. After I showered and dressed for bed, I found him waiting there for me. When I clicked off the light, he wordlessly pulled me into his chest. I knew he was there to help me combat whatever dream my imagination would muster up. I hadn’t dreamlessly slept since he’d arrived.

“I’ve never seen a man that pretty in real life. It’s like he’s not even human.”

“Trust me, he bleeds.” I’m one of the rare few who knows where his scars are.

“So, are you glad he’s back?”

“I want to be, but we’re beyond complicated.”

“Scared of getting hurt again?”

Tobias doesn’t hurt. He murders hurt; he makes hurt seem like a trip on a merry-go-round, and I got off his ride eight months ago.

Latching a newly loaded napkin dispenser shut, I look to see him keeping rapid conversation with the older woman. “I gave him an ultimatum almost a year ago, and he’s just now coming around.”

“It’s always like that, right?” Opening the register, she exchanges some of her tips for larger bills and pockets the money in her apron. That one simple act brings me back to a different time and place. Triple Falls, smiling Selma and her tortillas. A lifetime ago.

“It’s always like what?”

“You finally get it together enough to get over them—live without them—and bam, they show up on your doorstep expecting you to feel the same way. My momma always said, ‘Don’t ever count on a man to realize his wrongs on your emotional timeline ’cause men always take way longer to come around and deal with their feelings. They’re emotionally stunted.’”

“Never have more truer words been spoken.” It’s taken my stunted Frenchman too many unforgivable years to come around. That’s what I’m having the hardest time with. More than that, I’m not sure my heart can handle another spin on his merry-go-round.

“Well, better late than never, right? I swear I’ve never seen eyes like that in my life. I don’t know how you’re handling this.”

“Stop staring, or he’ll know we’re talking about him.”

Not even a second later, his eyes lift, and he smirks.

Bastard.

We both burst back into motion, which makes us look even more ridiculous. “So, you’re playing mouse with that lion? No offense, but it looks like he could swallow you whole.”

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