Page 16 of Those Two Words

“I’m…” I stop myself from defaulting to old ways.

I never knew how to truthfully answer that question, and my auto-response was always “I’m okay.” What does it even mean?

Compared to a few years ago, I’m more than okay. It wasn’t an upward battle, and the one thing I’ve learned is that you might take a few stumbles back to move forward again. Being honest with myself was the biggest step. Knowing how to be kind to my mind, my body, and not bottling it all up inside was both difficult and necessary in being okay.

“I think I’m a little different too.” It’s a genuine response, but I poke him in the ribs to shift the attention from myself. “What about you? Harriet says you’re quite the ladies’ man now.”

His chest puffs and shoulders pop back like some alpha male. “Pssht, YoYo,” he teases. “You have so much to catch up on. I’m the town’s hottest bachelor, I’ll have you know. Tourists’ panties are dropping?—”

“Ugh, gross. You’re like my little brother; please keep a lid on those sordid details. I’m sure you were a virgin when I left.”

Chuckling, he stands and offers me his hand, hauling me to my feet. He grabs me by the shoulders and looks me dead in the eyes.

“I want you to know that I saw you during one of the most difficult times in your life. Seeing how you handled the loss of your mom with such grace—” His voice breaks a little and I appreciate that he doesn’t try to hide his vulnerability. “It helped me a lot when we lost Dad. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

He places a kiss on the crown of my head, squeezes my shoulders, and walks out the door. Fresh tears spring to my eyes for a different reason now. On the outside it might have appeared I handled the passing of my mom well, but behind that façade I was drowning, with no idea how to come up for air.

What no one knows, is that it took over a decade for me to break through the surface.

After Booth left me in the stockroom, I took a few more minutes to collect myself, plastered on a smile, and headed to the front of the restaurant to meet Jules, the assistant manager.

We’ve spent the last couple of hours together, going over what you would for a typical new employee, though there wasn’t much to teach me I didn’t already know. Bless her heart, she even tried to explain that FOH stood for Front of House, until she remembered I was practically raised in this building. What I have learned is the menu is still the same as it was over twenty years ago. Even the customers are the same, just aged with time.We still don’t have a point of sale system, taking customers’ orders the old-school way, which I’m hoping is something I can help with.

She didn’t see it taking long for me to pick things back up, and I couldn’t disagree with her. I know this place inside and out, and it helps that nothing has changed, though, maybe one of the reasons it’s in its current state.

Now, I’m sitting at one of the tables in the restaurant and observing the team at work during the lunch rush. Only it isn’t much of a rush at all. Sure, Mondays are slow, but we’ve only had three tables in since noon. I watch the team stand around, trying to stay busy with odd jobs, and I’m sure one of them has wiped the same table five times.

It’s painful, and I now know exactly what my dad meant when he said they’re struggling.

Movement on my left catches my eye, and I watch Patrick as he carries in a crate of beer from the stockroom. There is one change around here, and I am in full favor of it; it’s the muscles Patrick is now packing. His biceps flex and ripple against his long sleeve shirt, and I am not ashamed of my unabashed perusal. He was always lean, but he’s now filled out in all the right places. His expression is also different. Unless he’s speaking to a customer or a member of the team, it’s solemn. The skin between his brows is permanently creased, and years ago, I would have rubbed that spot away with my thumb.

My ogling is interrupted when a woman and a young girl walk in. I think nothing of it at first. Watching them chat back and forth is quite sweet, reminding me of days out with my own mom. When the little girl makes a beeline for Patrick, my heart sinks.

The slapping of her feet across the floor catches his attention, and the moment he spots her, he crouches down and spreads his arms wide just in time to catch her. His expression lights up when she wraps her little arms around his neck, and they hug each other tightly. She might not have the same hair color as Patrick or the woman standing and laughing next to them, but there’s no doubt in my mind who they are.

I’m so absorbed in watching them I almost don’t notice when Patrick’s gaze flicks to mine as he talks to the woman. Girlfriend? Partner? Wife? No. I would know if he was married. Wouldn’t I?

I avert my eyes, needing to look anywhere else but at the happy little family on the other side of the room. I keep myself distracted and check the delivery updates for my new throw cushions when a small hand creeps into my peripheral and taps me on the arm. When I look up, the shade of green in the little girl’s eyes would be a dead giveaway as to who she is, if I didn’t know already.

“I’m Lottie! How is your food today?”

At first, I’m startled by her question, but I have to suppress the laughter bubbling in my throat when she stares at me with such seriousness. Her lines are clearly rehearsed, because I don’t even have any food in front of me. My heart might be aching in the knowledge of who she is, but when she flashes me a toothy grin, I can’t help but be charmed by her.

“Do you know what?” I reply with my own grin to match hers, because how could I not? “This is the best iced coffee I’ve had in a long time.”

“Iced? It’s so brrrrrr outside,” she says, shaking her arms and looking outside. “Don’t you want some hot cocoa?”

“Your daddy would say the exact same thing.”

Her eyes go comically wide, and I regret my response immediately.

“You know my daddy?!” she asks excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “He works here with my uncle Boo. Do you know him too? Sometimes I play waitress and I check on the customers. Did you know the customer is always right?”

I have no idea how to reply to her rambling of words, but god, if she isn’t the cutest. I’m so distracted by her chatter I don’t see Patrick approach us until he’s standing directly behind her.

“Spud, don’t forget, only a quick question and we move along. Don’t bother people too much,” he says, resting a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him with a cheeky smile, and I wish seeing the affection warm his eyes didn’t make him even more handsome.

“She’s really not bothering me at all,” I supply.

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