Page 45 of Not Made to Last

20

Olivia

I shouldn’t be surprised that Rhys has uncovered as much as he has. If money can make what happened to my grandparents disappear, then money sure as hell can make it resurface. And I’m not saying that Rhys is crazy enough to spend money just to uncover it, but I have a feeling he might already have the resources in place to do so.

“But that’s not all of it, is it?”His question weighs heavily on my chest as I sit in his car for the first time. Or,oneof his cars, if he still has the bright yellow Lambo he paraded around last year.

What was I saying?

Oh, right. The stories I’ve told him, and the feelings involved, are far fromall of it, but I don’t know where I should make the truth end and the lies start.

Luckily for me, his phone rang before I needed to answer him. I couldn’t hear who was on the other end, but their exchange was brief. Rhys hung up after a few seconds, and with his eyes still lingering on the posters on my ceiling, asked, “Are you coming?”

I didn’t even think. Didn’t hesitate. I simply changed out of my work clothes and into an old dress before I let him lead me out of my house and toward his car. He’s been driving for a good five minutes now, and neither of us has spoken. I don’t know where his head’s at, but I’m confused. As I should be. “Where are we going?”

Without taking his eyes off the road, he answers, “Pino’s.”

Oh.

Oh,no.

I probably should have paid more attention when I was looking over the menu on Rhys’s phone because Pino’s is, by far, the fanciest and most expensive restaurant in town, and I was wearing the mostunfanciest, most inexpensive clothes I own. Not only that, but?—

“Don’t worry,” he says, cutting through my thoughts. “I’m just picking it up.” He glances over at me, a smile tugging at his lips. “As much as I’d love to piss off your brother by publicly claiming you as mine, I’m assuming you’re not up for such chaos.”

“Your assumption is correct,” I tell him and leave it at that. There’s no way I’m adding fuel to that fire. “I thought Pino’s only did dine in.”

His eyes snap to mine. “Is that bad?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been there,” I rush out. “Why are you, so…” I trail off, unsure how to finish.

“My parents own Pino’s,” he says, and I don’t respond because I already knew that.

I’d just…forgottenthat I knew that.

He adds, “I’ve kind of been running it the past year?—”

“Weren’t you a high school senior the past year?”

“Yes.”

“And co-captain of the basketball team?”

“Stalk much?”

I roll my eyes “Pot meet kettle, and guess what?”

“What?”

“We’re both black.”

His shoulders bounce with his chuckle. “See?” he says, placing his hand on my thigh and squeezing once. “We’re perfect for each other.”

The rest of the drive to Pino’s is spent with Rhys telling me the history of the restaurant, which also included the history of his parents.

When I first found out about Rhys and his family, I did as much online research as I could. From what I could gather, Rhys’s parents were born and raised a couple towns over and were high school sweethearts. They both skipped college, and instead, worked full-time so they could move in together, get married, have kids, and live happily ever after.

That’s how Rhys’s dad—Troy Garrett—found himself bussing tables at Pino’s when, one day, the owner called a meeting to let staff know they were financially struggling to stay open. From the stories they’ve told to those rich people magazines, Mr. Garrett begged the owner to give him six months to turn things around, and if he could make that happen, then he asked for shares in the business. Back then, Mr. Garrett knew nothing about marketing, let alone running a restaurant. But he did his research, worked his ass off while his kids were still in diapers, and hustled hard to made the dream work. Within six months, Pino’s was booming again, and within a year, the owner offered to sell the whole thing to Rhys’s Dad. Within two years, his parents had paid off the loan they took out to buy the restaurant and used their extra earnings to start another business.

---