Page 64 of Coincidentally Kismet

Daveed was not lying! This is unquestionably the best burger I’ve ever had, and the truffle fries elevate the otherwise basic french fries to near perfection. Rhonda returns, sliding the milkshake across the bar to me at the perfect moment. The chocolate mixed with peanut butter in the milkshake cuts the grease perfectly. I’m quickly approaching food coma status, so I toss my napkin on my plate and drizzle some milkshake on it to stop the temptation of going back in for more.

It’s been a while since I took myself on a date, so to speak. I generally don’t love eating at restaurants alone. Soaking in this atmosphere, though, is enough to make up for any lack of conversation or awkwardness.

Peering around, I see there is a mix of business people grabbing a quick bite for lunch, couples sharing milkshakes in the most swoon-worthy way possible, and a couple of families. Rhonda and her fellow employees bounce from table to table carrying armfuls of plates, shakes, and baskets. Listening to the hum of the music, the clanging of silverware, and the sizzle of the grill mimics a live-action play evolving around me.

Every time the door jingles with the sound of a new guest coming or going, I’m swept up wondering who will enter next, why they are coming here, what’s their story. This particular guest entering is breathtaking. Flowing chestnut-brown hair that’s perfectly coiffed with tendrils falling effortlessly down her back. An emerald-green sundress that hits just above her knees paired with strappy chestnut-colored sandals. She’s petite but has killer curves, the kind of woman every other woman wants to hate because she’s simply stunning.

I realize I’m approaching creepy stalker status, but I’m drawn to watch her as she talks quietly to the host and follows effortlessly to a booth on the opposite side of the restaurant. Noticing the host has placed down two menus, I can’t stop myself from fixating on the door in anticipation of who is meeting her. Will it be her lover or a friend for lunch? Perhaps a business meeting or a first date.

I steal another glance at this mystery bombshell when the jingle of the door chimes again. In walks Will, all svelte and macho looking in his uniform. He’s beautiful and breathtaking, but what the hell is he doing here? I sit up a little straighter preparing to wave when he turns away and heads toward the gorgeous girl I’ve been obsessing over for the last five minutes.

What in the actual fuck?

She slides from the booth with ease, wrapping her arms around his waist in a hug. He hugs her back and smiles at her with that dazzlingly sexy smirk that I thought was reservedfor me at this point. They sit down and chat comfortably while looking at their menus. It’s obvious they know each other as neither seems tense or awkward like they would be on a first date.

This isn’t happening—I’m the other woman. How did I not know he was seeing other people? I mean, we haven’t discussed being exclusive, but I assumed when he said he was “all in” to see where this goes that he wasn’t dating anyone else. I wonder if Smith knows—wait, does everyone know but me? How stupid am I to think a man like him wouldn’t be playing the field? I need to get out of here,now.

Cautiously slipping a twenty on the counter to cover my milkshake and tip, since I prepaid for the carry-out order, I slink off my stool. I head toward the door walking as quickly and quietly as possible to go unnoticed. Damn it, I can’t help but steal one more look. Hand on the door handle, I peer over at the table and immediately lock eyes with Will.

He looks confused and a little stunned. The milkshake, burger, and fries are rioting in my stomach, like a brick sloshing around and battering my insides. My heart is pounding against my rib cage, and yet it feels like it might stop beating all together.

I push my way out into the fresh air and sprint to my car, quickly unlocking it and ducking inside with a slam of my door. I need to move, get out of this parking lot, go home, bury myself in bed for the foreseeable future, but all I can do is put my face in my hands and cry. The sobs sound more like screams from a wounded animal, but I guess that’s kind of what I am.

I fucking love him and he’s seeing other people. I knew better, dammit, this is why I didn’t want to get involved. How could I be so stupid and reckless?

A knock on the car window startles me, and I peer up to see who it could be. Freakin’, Will.

“Cam, it’s not what you think,” he says through the glass.

Deep breath, keep it together, don’t show him you’re in pain.

“I’m fine, Rambo. Just leaving now, have a nice day!” I shout back through the window.

“Wright, seriously, dammit. Let me explain,” he pleads.

“It’s all good, Rambo. Have the chocolate peanut butter shake, it’s great. Please move so I don’t run you over,” I respond, trying to sound normal despite wanting to throw my lunch all over my lap.

He steps aside looking defeated and sad. I flip it in reverse, peeling out of the parking lot. Time to go start over . . .again!

CHAPTER 29

WILL

“HIGH ROAD” – KOE WETZEL & JESSIE MURPH

That did not go well. The knowledge of it is slinking its way through my body like venom, easing into every pore, vein, and muscle. Guilt is rioting in my stomach, and yet my mind is protesting that I did nothing wrong.

“Sorry about that, I just, I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression about...well, you know, about us,” I say, stumbling over my words to Bri while sinking back down into my side of the booth.

Bri and I had agreed to meet for lunch today. I’ve wanted to catch her up on how things have been going with Cam since seeing Bri at the cemetery. Cam had mentioned this place was close to base, and it seemed like the perfect spot to meet since it’s halfway between there and Bri’s office.

“It’s okay, Will. How’d it go out there?” she asks, looking concerned but also not having a problem scarfing down her burger.

“It didn’t. She just told me to have a nice day and said it’s fine.”

“Like a realfineor a disgruntled girlfriendfine?” Bri inquires while dipping a fry in an alarming amount of ketchup.

“Pretty sure she’s pissed. It looked like she was crying.”

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