Page 74 of Shortcake
Though, somehow, I doubted that. Self-proclaimed badass hellions who owned and ran their own bars weren’t exactly known for being early birds.
I figured I’d have the house to myself tonight with Harper at her book club and with Addy most likely working at Shortcake tonight. So I decided to treat myself. I had burgers to throw on the grill, a cigar, a few Clint Eastwood movies, and a hot tub calling my name.
I literally couldn’t remember the last time I had a whole place to myself like this. On a night when I wasn’t peeking in to check on my mom in her bedroom to make sure she was still breathing. Or pacing and worried about what kind of trouble Harper was getting into.
Sure, I still felt that a little here. But meeting Mia and the other kids, as well as Mia’s parents had mostly calmed my fears.
I pulled into my driveway, surprised to see Addy’s car still here.She was probably running late for work or something, I thought as I made my way into the house.
As I unloaded the burgers and beer I’d stopped to grab on my way home, my phone taunted me from its position on the counter. The open text thread I had started with Addy last night was the first thing to come up when I opened my texts. The only words it said wereBrawny man. And she’d never responded… namely because we’d been interrupted by her family.
Maybe I should text her? Invite her to join me for burgers tonight before she went into the bar?
My thumbs hovered over the buttons, but I couldn’t bring myself to punch the text in. If she’d wanted to talk with me, wouldn’t she have reached out today? Wasn’t the ball in her court now? I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear that in a perfect world, I would love to be with her. But this was far from a perfect world, and our situation wasn’t even close to perfect.
Sighing, I set the phone down and pushed Addy out of my mind. Tonight was me-time. Self-care as Harper always put it. But hell if I’d be caught dead with a charcoal mask on or whitening strips plastered to my teeth.
Instead, I created my own Zen… by mixing up the ground sirloin and making four burger patties for the grill.
In fifteen minutes, I literally felt more relaxed than I had in years. After washing my hands, I grabbed another beer and went to sit on the couch. Just as I sank into the cushion, beer in hand, my phone buzzed.
I jumped to answer the text, all tension knotting once again in my shoulders. Was it Addy? What if it was Mia’s parents and Harper got caught acting out? Or worse, what if she was hurt? Sick? Or ran away? All things felt oddly likely.
When I picked up my phone, it wasn’t Harper’s name flashing on the text bubble, it was Jim’s. My best friend was good about checking in with me, even after Mom died.
How’s small town Americana treating you? NYC misses you, buddy.
I paused before answering. The real question he was acrobatically jumping around asking:Do you miss NYC?
Maybe it was too early to tell. Hell, we’d only been in town for roughly a week. Barely enough time to get our bearings, let alone determine how much we missed home.
I missed my best friend, that was for sure, even though we didn’t see each other as much as we would have liked. Our schedules were both just too demanding between his firehouse hours and mine at NYPD.
But just knowing he lived a short subway ride away was enough. Knowing that theoretically we could grab that beer was comforting in its own right.
But that wasn’t an option anymore.
So instead of saying any of that, I just responded with,I miss the mile high bodega Boar’s Head sandwiches and Cafe Bustelo coffee something fierce.
You know, they sell Cafe Bustelo that you can brew at home.
Duh. Of course I knew it. But it never tasted the same.Yeah, but it needs to be brewed in a sludgy, old Mr. Coffee that hasn’t been cleaned since 1982. You know that.
LOL. Ur right, ur right.
Most people didn’t mean it when they typed LOL, but Jim wasn’t most people. I could practically hear his booming laugh five hours away in New Hampshire.Working the overnight?I typed, asking him.
Yeah, got stuck on the graveyard shift tonight. Supposed to be the newbie’s job, but I felt bad for the kid.
I pictured Jim at the firehouse, laying on his cot, holding his phone above his head, laughing beside the empty bowl of chili and half-eaten large Ray’s pepperoni pizza.
How’s Bruiser?He asked, using the nickname Harper had earned when she was five and her Uncle Jim was teaching her how to throw a punch. He was too good of a teacher. She left a bruise the size of a pringle chip on his bicep.
Another tricky one to answer. I took a pull from my beer, setting it back down on the table beside me, dragging my fingers down the sweating edge.The last two days have been okay. Better than the weekend, at least. She’s at a book club tonight, so there’s that.
Book club? How much did you have to bribe her to enroll in that?
Comments like that always bothered me. Harper used to be a voracious reader. And still is, to an extent. But at some point in the last couple years, she got it into her head that reading wasn’t cool. So she’d hide in her room to read. Or ask for books only on Christmas so that no one but my Mom or me would see her open them and get excited.
