Page 46 of Not in My Book

They were arguing now. Aiden spoke in quick, quiet words, but his father spoke in sharp angles, spit flying out with every word. It was so sad to watch someone you viewed as larger than life shrink into themselves under someone else’s thumb. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure,” Alexa sang. “You know, you’re free to go.”

I looked at her nervously from the corner of my eye. “Oh. Yeah, for sure. I think I’ll just finish this last table—”

“Aiden’s table?”

“I’m just worried,” I said defensively. “He’s casually mentioned his relationship with his father a few times and it doesn’t seem great.” I nodded over at their table. “Obviously.”

Alexa nodded thoughtfully. “That’s really nice, Rosie, but what can you do? Luke’s been singing your praises all night, but you know if we get a bad review because you’re mean to Aiden’s dad, he’ll blow his top off.”

I bit my lip. “I’m just going to keep an eye on them.”

I spent the next half hour dawdling by their table, refilling bread baskets and waters. Lisa eventually took over the other tables because she needed the hours, but I insisted on finishing off Aiden’s table.

I was standing by our ticket system as Alexa was telling me a story from earlier tonight about some hot girl she waited on. I was biting the nail on my thumb when Aiden’s shoulders tensed. They went straight back, and his hands found their way to the table, folded.

“Do you have Aiden’s ticket?” I interrupted her.

“Are they done?”

“Can you print it?” I looked back at them, and his father was leaning across the table now, slowly getting redder in the face. I couldn’t help but think about the way Aiden had said his mom needed saving from his dad. Maybe Aiden needed saving, too. “Quickly.”

I snatched the ticket from the printer, almost ripping it in half in the process. I rushed over to their table and plastered a smile on my face. Almost instantly, Aiden’s father stopped speaking.

“Hi, I just thought I’d bring your check over.”

Mr. Huntington frowned. “We didn’t ask for it.”

“Oh,” I said, gripping the black book tightly in my hand. “We have a reservation for this table in thirty minutes, and we need to get it prepared.”

Mr. Huntington made a point to look at the empty tables surrounding him as the night died down. “Just leave it there, we’ll get to it soon.”

I gave an apologetic smile. “I was actually hoping to go ahead and get your payment now, so we can begin the process of setting up for our reservation. We have a time limit for each table because of this.”

His face hardened, like he wanted me to back down. I held his gaze, not letting up. For a second, I thought he’d say no—or worse, ask for Luke. Instead, he shook his head and placed his card in the book. He spared Aiden a glance. “You’re welcome for the meal.”

I snatched the book up and hurried through his payment process. While I was away from the table, Mr. Huntington looked like he was picking up where he left off.

“Come on,” I urged our machine.

“You know”—Alexa peered over my shoulder—“you’re doing a lot for someone you claim to hate.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh huh.” She smiled and walked away, balancing her tray on her arms.

I snatched the receipt and rushed off. When I returned with the black book, I handed it to Mr. Huntington.

“Thank you guys again for coming in.”

As Mr. Huntington hastily signed the receipt, probably ignoring the tip line, he said, “Well, son, we can continue this conversation over a cup of coffee.”

My gaze flew to Aiden’s. He didn’t react, just gave a terse nod. And I couldn’t help it, I wanted to save him. I hated the hurt look he was trying so desperately to hide but that showed in the wrinkle in between his eyebrows and the way his hands curled into fists. It broke my heartinto tiny pieces, knowing that this man was making the terror of my Wednesdays feel so small.

“Actually.” I laughed softly, cocking out my hip, trying to seem as casual as I didn’t feel. “I absolutelyhateto interrupt this little father–son date, but I was wondering if I could borrow Aiden for an hour or two? I need help with something for class—midterms are coming up and all that.”

His father narrowed his eyes at me. “Isn’t it just writing? What could you possibly need Aiden for?”

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