Page 66 of Mine

“Where are you?” I ask her, pulling my phone away from my ear.

“Oh,” she breathes. “I was lifting some boxes at my office, moving them to the storage room.”

“Nice.” I click the button on my key fob, unlocking my car. “So, I’m guessing you’re almost ready for the opening?”

“Actually, that’s what I’m calling you about.” Her voice raises an octave, excitement building behind it. “I was hoping you could come by tomorrow around noon and come see it.”

“Oh.” I sit in my car, holding my key between my fingers. “I would love to.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so excited. This has been a long time coming and I can’t wait to share it with you.”

I close my eyes, picturing the way she looks standing in her newly remodeled office space. I picture the freshly painted walls and hardwood floors. I picture the way she looks proudly standing in front of the sign I’d designed for her. Her lies prick me in my chest from the inside out. Is this how she felt when I’d kept my secret of Julian’s return? Is this how she felt when I had left her behind in Providence without so much as a goodbye?

Guilt and regret seep its way into my bones, penetrating my flesh. I couldn’t talk to Abby like this on the phone. She deserved more.

Biting back my line of questioning, I tell Abby I’m excited for her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Awesome.” she beams. “Meet me at my office at noontomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Abby hangs up and I start my car wondering how in the hell I was going to ask my friend is she was in a secret relationship with the same man who was stalking me.

Twenty-Five

Logan

The first time I met Lena she left me breathless.

The circumstances in which we met weren’t the kind written in romance novels. They weren’t the stuff of fairy tales. In fact, our whole relationship and marriage has been surrounded by the complete opposite.

I had spent nearly two years working at Bar Americano, paying my way through community college. It wasn’t until I’d worked at Bar Americano that my love and appreciation for the culinary arts had manifested. My dreams were far off at that point, hoping one day I’d catch a break, find my new path to the career I’d wanted.

Instead of finding my career, I’d found Lena.

She was the woman who would come in every Friday night, dressed like she had walked off the set of a high society photo shoot. Her hair was perfectly waved, resting on her petite shoulders, the ends touching the top of her chest. Her dresses were always seamless, molding to her body like they had been tailored just for her.

After the first few times I’d seen her, I noticed she would always dine with the same man. He was the complete opposite of the man I was. Where he wore expensive suits, I wore black serving aprons. Where he had perfectly styled blond hair, mine was a deep shade of brown, my long unruly hair tied back.

The amount of money he had was evident in the way he walked. He’d tip his chin up as he entered the dining room like he knew he was better than anyone else at the restaurant.

Despite the hours I’d work and the number of tables I would serve, I’d spend my time staring at Lena. She never expressed the same interest the man had. He was always animated in his movements. Lena was always stiff and quiet. Her shoulders and back rigid. I’d watch as she would reluctantly lift her wine glass to her mouth, glancing around the dining room for a way out. Her eyes were sad, forever locked in a cage.

After some time, my examinations of Lena and Julian grew bolder. I’d find any reason to work closer to her table, offering to relieve the other servers so I could bring out their food, just to catch a snippet of their conversations. It didn’t take me long to learn they both studied art. Both went to Brown University, steps above the college I attended. She was out of my league and I knew it.

Julian never caught on to me studying him, but after the first few times, Lena had.

At first, she would watch me with her eyes, never turning her head in my direction. I could feel her eyes following me and burning into my back, reaching for an answer to why I was more present the more she came into the restaurant. She didn’t speak to me until one night when I was leaving work after the restaurant had closed.

I found her standing by the front door, leaning against the brick wall. I stopped, staring at Lena. She looked different than all the other times I had seen her. She was wearing high-waisted tight light washed jeans, hugging her curves. A small black tank top was tucked into her jeans, three buttons dipping between her breasts.

She pushed off the wall, walking toward me. She stopped two feet in front of me. “Why do you always watch me?”, she asked.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and her skin was glistening under the yellow lamp posted above the restaurant door.

I opened my mouth, stunned she was standing in front of me. Stunned she was asking me such a bold question. It was the first time I had heard her speak. Her voice sent a shockwave through me, jolting me.

I’d looked around, checking if she was with the same man I’d always seen her come into the restaurant with. She was alone.

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