Page 87 of Simmer Down
I grip the counter to steady myself. Even after our fight, even after our very ugly and very public demise, Callum somehow found it in him to congratulate me with the Instagram account he never uses—and it’s thrown me for one hell of a loop.
Chapter 20
Everything okay,anak? You seem a little off.” Mom sets a glass of water on the kitchen table for me.
“I’m fine.” I take a long sip. It’s a lie, but I’ve got no energy for the truth.
Because the truth is too painful to talk about. I’d have to admit, like I almost did the other day right before Penelope swooped in and saved us, that I had a secret relationship with our rival, broke up on the worst possible terms, and reeled about it in silence until he left a sweet comment for me out of the blue on social media that had me questioning everything. I’d come off like a traitoranda basket case.
She plops down in the chair to my left, her focused stare fixed on me. “You don’t seem fine. In fact, you haven’t seemed like yourself lately. Want to tell me why?”
I let out a long exhale, saying nothing. It does little to ease the concern painted so clearly on her face. She stares with a furrowed brow, her dark eyes boring into me like lasers.
“Just tired, that’s all,” I say. “It’s just a lot dealing with all those bloggers constantly hanging out at our truck.”
This time when I speak, it’s the truth. This first week of having our food truck spot on Makena Road back to ourselves has been like navigating a paparazzi press line. Every day a dozen bloggers visit our truck to ask me two things. The first is how I feel about being dropped by the Flavor Network only to be picked up minutes later by Chic TV. Penelope was kind enough to give me a heads-up on that one. When we met for drinks, she warned that social media influencer wannabes may pester me in the hopes of getting their fifteen minutes of fame by latching onto the food truck that will soon be in a commercial for a popular network.
The second most common thing they ask about is Callum, our relationship, our fallout, how I feel now that he’s vacated our spot. And every day I serve customers while pretending that I don’t hear their invasive questions float within earshot as they crowd our truck. I never knew ignoring people could be so exhausting.
But it’s even more than that. It’s the fact that every day I park our truck in that spot, I hope against hope that the Hungry Chaps food truck will be parked there. Even though it will never, ever happen. When they didn’t show up that first day back, it was expected. It didn’t ease the knot in my chest at all though.
And every day since, the knot has grown bigger and tighter. Today I can barely breathe when I think of Callum and me sharing that spot, how for weeks we worked less than ten feet from each other during the day, then ravaged each other at night.
Yes, we’re done. Yes, we fought. Yes, we both said terrible things to each other. But that doesn’t erase our passion, our feelings, how he made me happier than anyone I’ve ever been with. How he was the only person other than my mom who I could talk to about my dad.
Another labored breath and my chest feels as though it will collapse under the weight of this invisible agony.
It’s all crystal clear now: I love Callum.
I would happily endure a million nosy vloggers all day, every day, if I had Callum in my line of view. If I could look up and see him flashing a half smile at me from the window of his food truck.
Mom’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Those bloggers or vloggers or whatever they’re called are certainly irritating. But I don’t think that’s the only reason why you’re so sad.”
When she inquired on the first day why everyone kept asking me about Callum, I froze. I never wanted to tell her about us, even when I thought we had lost our festival prize and I was about to force myself to come clean. I brushed off her question, saying the vloggers were desperate for a story and making things up about us. She nodded and didn’t mention it again. But for a split second there was that knowing look in her eyes, like she could tell I was hiding something. She gives me that same look right now.
“I’m not sad, Mom. I just miss Lemon.”
An eyebrow raise is all my explanation gets. It was the same eyebrow raise she gave me when she asked about Lemon not being at the condo anymore and I mumbled some half-assed excused about Penelope wanting to take her for a while. In actuality, Lemon is still with Callum because she just happened to be staying with him when we ended everything between us. I haven’t had the nerve to reach out to him and ask if I can see her or if we could somehow resume some sort of fair visitation schedule. The pain from our split is still too raw.
“I’m your mom. I know when you’re sad. And I also know that it’s because of a very tall, very handsome English boy.”
My eyes go wide, but I rein them back in after a blink. “Mom, I told you, that’s not...”
She flashes her best deadpan stare. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. Not since I was seventeen and she walked in on me curled up in aball on the floor of my bedroom, thoroughly hungover after a night of sneaking alcohol at my best friend’s house.
“Nicole Elise DiMarco, I may be from a different generation, but I’m no fool. I know when my daughter’s in love, just like I know when she’s not telling me the truth.”
There’s a pop in my jaw as it falls open. I snap my mouth shut.
Her hand falls over mine. Both her eyes and her tone turn tender. “Did you really think I didn’t notice what you were doing all those nights you went out? Did you think I didn’t notice all those times at work when I caught you smiling to yourself for no reason at all?”
“But... how?”
“I caught you two looking at each other a few times at the food truck. Whenever you saw each other in those moments, you just looked so happy. I knew something was going on.” Her burnt umber eyes fall to her lap. “And then the other day Mrs. Tokushige sent me all these links to videos about what happened at the festival between you and Callum. She was so worried about you, how you were dealing with all this.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Oh.”
Patting my hand, she flashes a small smile. “The way he looked at you those times I noticed, it’s the same way your dad would look at me. You can’t fake that sort of feeling, that love. And you can’t hide it for very long either.”
