Page 10 of Broken Romeo

“It’s hard to believe you two didn’t know each other back in college,” Simon says as I enter the theater.

I freeze and hold my breath before creeping forward. It’s a bad idea to eavesdrop, no matter how badly I want to.

“Nope. We met a few times, but we weren’t friends.”

That liar. That fucking liar. Am I that embarrassing that he can’t even admit to knowing me in college?

No one notices my presence. I bend, silently retrieving my purse, and hitch it over my shoulder as I spin to rush out of the theater before anyone becomes the wiser.

The door shuts behind me, but not before I hear his final parting thoughts about me to the production team.

“She wasn’t exactly memorable back then either.”

His words spear into my back… right beside the hatchet he buried there years ago.

CHAPTER FOUR

Being a barista is the perfect job for me when I’m in a pissy mood. I get to drown out all the cheerful people around me by steaming and frothing milk. I can bang the portafilters as loud as I want to clean out the espresso grounds. And I can fuel my anger with as much free caffeine as I can drink.

If only the pay wasn’t shit.

But the real problem with my day job is that even on my best day as a barista, I wish I was doing something else. My passion and my heart lie elsewhere.

It’s not enough anymore. Emotionally, physically, or financially.

Jill folds her arms and levels me with a petulant look. “Absolutely not. I’m not meeting this potential new roommate.”

With a sigh, I pass her a London Fog latte—her favorite. “Oh, really? Then what the hell are you doing here on your morning off?”

She gently takes the London Fog from the counter and tilts her chin higher, sliding a Post-it covered in her chicken scratch handwriting across the counter. “I found you a job.”

“You what?”

She clicks her tongue with a roll of her eyes. “Well, I found you a job interview. My editor at the magazine is looking for an after-school nanny for her two kids. She pays well and the hours are flexible. You can still work here and even audition from time to time.”

My sharp inhale lodges in my lungs. “I’m exhausted as it is, Jill. Adding another job is just prolonging the inevitable—”

“We’re all exhausted, Kate,” Jill snaps, and her mouth settles into a firm line.

Uh-oh. She’s pissed. Pissed Jill isn’t a pretty sight.

She continues, her voice getting louder with every word. “Newsflash: every single person in this city who’s trying to make something of themselves is overworked and underpaid. Following your dreams is exhausting. But you don’t see me giving up, do you?”

She’s not wrong. Am I just being lazy? Defeatist? I glance at the phone number and address above Monday - 2pm scribbled at the bottom of the Post-it.

“It’s not a sure thing yet. She wants to interview you Monday. But if you get the job, she’s willing to pay you for the month up front.” Jill taps her finger to the yellow square pinched between my fingers. “This is the answer you’ve been looking for.”

I gulp. The answer I was looking for evaporated with that audition two days ago. More than anything, I want to stay here in New York with Jill. I don’t want to give up.

But I know Jill will drown herself trying to save both of us on one life preserver. And if I love her, at some point, I need to let go so she can survive.

But not yet. I have more fight left in me, as long as I don’t drag Jill down with me.

I force a smile on my face. “Thanks, Jill. I’ll be there on Monday. I promise.”

Jill nods, her frown softening. “Good. I was afraid I was going to have to drag your stubborn ass to the Upper East Side myself.”

Despite my doubts, I’m still so grateful for Jill. I don’t know where I’d be without this girl. Probably back in Indiana.

---