Page 16 of More Trouble
Tori’s final comment brought me back to earth with a bump. The tiny diversion of talking about the business and ghastly exercise almost made me forget why I was really sitting in a diner in the middle of God knew where.
“Me too, Tori. Me too.”
I hung up and finished the cardboard croissant—I really had to eat something if I still had more driving to do—and coffee.
Before I left, I sought out the waitress who has been so kind to me. I slipped her a ten-dollar bill and briefly squeezed her arm. “Thank you for listening earlier. I was exactly what I needed.”
She tried to wave away the money, but I wouldn’t let her. “No problem, love. I hope you’re feeling a little better. Be sure to drive safe now.”
“I will. I hope the rest of your shift isn’t as dramatic.”
“I clock out in fifteen minutes. I think I’ll be okay.” One of the guys, who had been sitting at the counter the whole time I’d been there, shouted over to her he needed more coffee. “So long as Eric gets his refill, there’ll be no drama.” She gave me a smile and walked away.
Out in the parking lot, I checked the remaining distance on my route.
One hour and forty-five minutes to get back to Cali Cross.
I honestly half thought I’d never return.
And now, I was returning for the worst possible reasons.
We were going to bury Wes.
Scarlett was pregnant.
I was kidding myself to think this was going to be a quick trip.
