Page 160 of Holding On

"Okay. Just wait here. I'll handle your tables until you feel better."

She nods and I go in the kitchen to get the order. It's a plate of fried chicken with a side of fries. "Tina isn't feeling well."

Max just nods, a slight smile creeping up his chubby red cheeks. He's acting strange. Usually he'd sing something as I take the food, but instead he just watches me.

Weird.

When I get to the dining room, I abruptly stop, my breath catching when I see who's at table seven. It's Ethan, looking hotter than ever, wearing a white polo shirt, his skin tinted a dark golden brown from the sun. His shirt is fitted, outlining his muscular shoulders and chest. I love his body. It's one of the many things I miss about him. And his face. Those deep brown eyes and that chiseled jaw, covered in a light layer of stubble.

I can't do this. I can't go over there.

He's looking at his phone. He hasn't seen me. I could sneak back in the kitchen and hide there until he's gone.

Just as I'm about to turn back, he glances up from his phone and sees me. He doesn't smile, but instead just looks at me, our eyes connecting in a heated stare. I already feel a tingle between my legs, remembering what it was like to be with him.

Maybe that's why I can't get over him. The sex was too damn good.

I quickly walk over to his table and set his plate down. "Do you need anything else?"

I assume he'll beg me to sit down and talk to him, but instead he says, "No, I'm good. Thanks."

That's it? That's all he's going to say? He hasn't seen me in weeks and that's all he says?

Maybe he's moved on. Maybe that's why he's been calling me. To let me know he has someone else. If so, that's really rude. I don't need to know he has someone else. He should keep that to himself.

"Becca?" I hear his voice as I'm walking away.

I turn back. "Yes?"

"Could I have some hot sauce?" He holds up the empty bottle on the table. "This one's out."

"Um, yeah, okay." I go over and take the bottle from him and my hand brushes against his, making me almost drop the bottle.

"Got it?" he asks, smiling. Damn, that smile. More tingling. Shit.

"Yeah. I'll be right back."

I hurry to the kitchen, feeling breathless and completely flustered. Why am I acting this way? I didn't act this way when we dated, but now I'm all nervous around him. Is it because he didn't react the way I thought he would?

"Becca, Becca, your cheeks are red," Max sings. "What's going on in that cute little head?"

"Max, not now. I'm not in the mood." I reach under the counter and find the jug of hot sauce we use to refill the bottles.

Max continues to sing. "Something's up at table seven. Becca's little slice of heaven." And then he laughs.

"Seriously?" I glare at him, annoyed. "Slice of heaven? I thought you hated him."

"I didn't say I hated him." He puts a basket of chicken in the fryer and sets the timer. "In fact, we've been hanging out."

"What?" I almost drop the now-full bottle of hot sauce. "You've been hanging out with Ethan?"

He feigns shock, rearing back as he points at me. "You're not supposed to say his name!"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I can break my own rule. Now are you joking or have you really been hanging out with Ethan?"

"He came to a cookout at my house a few weeks ago. Then I went to his house. Gave him a cooking lesson. Taught him to use the grill. Then I went to one of his parties and—"

"Wait." I set the bottle down. "Let me get this straight. This whole time, you've been talking to Ethan, hanging out with him, and you never even thought to mention this to me?"

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