Page 76 of Falling for Them
Finally, the end arrives.I take care of my closing duties.
“Burger to go?”Kevin asks from the kitchen, where he’s cooking tonight because he’s bored.
“Yeah, thanks,” I say.
He makes it and wraps it up for me.I tell him thanks and head outside—and I nearly run into Joel.
I can only stare stupidly up at my ex-boyfriend.It’s just, my worlds have collided.I never expected to see him here at Bartleby’s, much less in the Bellefleur District.
“Hey,” he says.
“Um, hey.What are you doing here?”I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.
He doesn’t even look like he fits in, wearing his designer jeans and a windbreaker that probably costs an entire month’s worth of my rent.
“I was hoping to run into you,” he says.“I thought you mentioned this place before.”
His lip curls as he looks over the dingy brick building.The S at the end ofBartleby’sis hanging off of the sign above the door.
I don’t need this stuck-up asshole standing here, judging my workplace.
“Did you need something?”I ask.
“I really want to talk to you,” he says, moving his focus from the building to my face.His sneer disappears, and a hopeful expression takes its place.
“About what?”
“Everything,” he says.“Please?I’ll take you somewhere for a late dinner…”
Food.I have the burger Kevin made in its little foil package, but I had a burger last night and the night before…the lack of variety in my free meals is starting to make me feel bloated.
“Um, okay,” I say slowly.“There’s an all night-diner the next block over.”
Because I’m not getting in a car and driving somewhere with this guy, no way.Whatever he wants to talk about, I want to be able to make a quick exit.
We don’t speak on the way to the diner.Joel looks all around him, like a freaking tourist at the zoo or some shit.
“Is this your first time in Bellefleur?”I ask as we reach the diner.
He gives me a wry smile.“Is it that obvious?”
I nod and say, “Yep,” for added emphasis.
The interior of the diner is warm and well-lit, and it smells like coffee and pastries.There are a few tables here—the place is doing better business on a Monday night than Bartleby’s is doing.
Joel and I grab menus from the stand next to the door and seat ourselves.A tall man with a mustache hurries over and says, “Can I get you started with drinks?”
“An espresso for me,” Joel says.
“Herbal tea?”I ask.
“I’ll bring you a selection,” the server says.
“Thanks.”
He leaves us alone and Joel leans forward across the table, ignoring his menu.
“Ella, I want you back.”
