Page 100 of Simmer Down
“I know, but it was amazing. Seriously. I thrive in fast-paced environments.”
It’s true. Penelope was a natural, balancing orders, helping me with the food prep, and cleaning up like she’s been doing it for years. I don’t know if I’ve ever worked with anyone who caught on that quickly.
It’s been two days since upchucking my tea on the open road, and I’m on the path back to normal. No more annoying vloggers asking me invasive personal questions. They still show up, but to order the food and film themselves chowing down for their websites like they used to do.
“You were amazing on the live video,” Penelope says as we make our way to the front of the truck. “I know I’ve said that a million times, but I mean it. You were so bold to do it.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t really work out.” I wince at what a sad sack I sound like.
She stops in front of the driver’s side door. “Don’t say that. You put yourself out there. That took major balls.”
I smile softly at her phrasing.
“You ready to head home?” She opens the door.
I reach for the bag I packed under the front seat. “Actually, I think I want to go for a swim at Little Beach tonight.”
It’s been ages since I’ve seriously entertained the thought of swimming there. It used to be my go-to place to decompress when life and work got to be too much. But ever since the falling-out with Callum, I haven’t dared to set foot there. The thought of running into him sends me into near hives, even more so now that he has someone new and I could possibly see them together.
But it’s eight thirty on a weeknight in the middle of the summer, meaning the beach will be crowded. He probably won’t be there since he prefers early-morning swims. But if he is, it’s unlikely he would see me through the crowd.
“You sure?” Penelope asks.
“Positive.”
“But what if you run into... you know...” She frowns, her worry radiating all the way from her furrowed brow to her scrunched lips.
Since becoming friends, I’ve filled her in on why Little Beach is such a hot-button topic for me: how early-morning swims there used to be my lifeblood and that first off-the-charts awkward run-in with a naked Callum.
I grab her hand in a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Penelope. You can say his name.”
“I just don’t want to bring up sad memories.”
“I know,” I say softly. I’m lucky to have a friend like Penelope who cares about how I feel, who goes out of her way to make sure I’m doing well.
“It’s just...” Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow in concern. “I know things are still raw, and I don’t want to make it worse by saying the wrong thing.”
“That means so much. But I’m moving on. And part of moving on is normalizing things that used to set me off. So you can say his name. I’m totally fine with it. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, okay?”
“Totally fine?” She raises an eyebrow.
I purse my lips at how easily she calls my bluff. I am light-years away from “totally fine.” Every day I still think of Callum. Because every day something happens to remind me of him. All it takes is a flash of golden hair in my peripheral vision or someone with anEnglish accent ordering from the truck. I think of him cradling me into his chest when we slept, his perfect smile, his sandalwood cologne that always gave me goose bumps every time I took a breath. Of how I always, always felt at home in his presence.
In these moments, it’s a battle to get myself back on track. I try everything and anything. I breathe extra deep, take an extra long pause if I’m speaking, or close my eyes to collect myself for a moment.
But every day I do it because I have to. It’s the only way to move on.
One day I won’t have to silently tell myself to breathe until the pain passes. One day I’ll just instinctively do it. One day my chest won’t tighten, my eyes won’t water, my breath won’t catch. One day it won’t hurt anymore.
“Okay, not one hundred percent fine,” I say with a sigh. “But I’m managing. Every day is easier. Callum is a hell of a guy to get over, but I’ll get there. Eventually.”
She gives me another hug. “I’m so proud of you for how you’re moving on. Want me to wait here in the truck until you’re finished swimming so I can give you a ride home?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll get an Uber. You should go home and rest. You worked so hard.”
I head to the back of the food truck to change, taking in the new look of the exterior. Penelope even helped me apply a fresh coat of paint on the food truck the other day, then touched up the images and lettering.
I pop out and pull her into a hug. “Thank you. For everything. I’m beyond lucky to have you as a friend.”
