Page 49 of Not Another Yesterday
“Talking.”
I shove my phone back into my pocket, thinking about how only Miranda finds a way through my armor. And how that might be the whole problem.
***
At ten minutes until three in the morning, Vada is passed out with her head resting on her arms on the table, while Summer’s asleep with her head in Zack’s lap, her legs tucked onto the leather seat of the booth.Shane locks the front doors behind Jack, closing Murphy’s for the night.
I groan when I pull a chair up next to Cat’s seat in the booth, then fall gratefully onto it. Holy hell, my entire body aches. I better not allow my eyes to shut or I’ll pass out like Vada and Summer.
“Damn good night.” Shane pulls up his own chair next to Steve, whose expression is sleepy, body relaxed. Shane is amped, even hyper, but that’s nothing new. He’s always like this. Crowds and noise don’t wear him down like they do me—they invigorate him, which is probably why he misses throwing parties so much. I grin at his exuberance while draping my arm over Cat’s shoulder to pull her toward me.
Even though she leans into me, her body feels stiff, unconforming. I angle my face to look into her eyes. “Everything okay, baby?”
“I’m fine,” she says, her words cool. My eyes bounce between hers. I haven’t had a chance to stop by her table again after the ball drop, after I got off the phone with Miranda and went back to work. She was fine when I kissed her at midnight. What the hell happened in the last three hours to cause her to be this short with me?
“How much did you make in cash tips?” Shane asks, pulling a long, rolled-up receipt from the pocket of his apron.
“For the entire day?” I ask.
Shane just nods, his eyes on the receipts.
“Seven hundred and forty-seven,” I say, suddenly aware of the thick wad of bills in my jeans pocket. “Brunch was kind of slow today.”
Shane grumbles, “Damn.”
“You?”
“Six hundred and ninety-six,” he says with a note of defeat.
“At least it’s a sexy number, baby,” Tori says, her eyes bloodshot and glossy. I’m surprised she’s not asleep, too.
Shane grins at her. “Very sexy. Okay, well, Jack made nine hundred and fourteen in cash tips.”
“Holy shit,” Steve says, his eyes wide. “You guys makethatmuch in tips? Why didn’t I know about this?”
“And that’s only the cash,” Shane says with a nod at the paper in front of him. “Alright, so Ran, you got an additional eight hundred and eighty-seven in electronic tips. I got nine hundred and one. And Jack got…” Shane’s face falls. “Eight hundred and thirteen. Without doing the exact math, I think Jack won this one.”
I shut my eyes and crack my neck. God, I need sleep. “Yep. But to be fair, he ran the bar. On New Year’s Eve. Drunk people tip more than sober people. It’s all good. It’s still a great fucking night.”
“Yep, that’s rent right here.” Shane nods and taps his index finger on the paper receipt on the table.
I kiss Cat’s temple, inhaling her. She hasn’t moved out of my arms, but she still feels rigid. Like I’m holding a statue instead of a person. I tell myself it’s just fatigue, but I’ve known Cat long enough to know the difference between tired and tense.
I kiss her temple again, trying to smooth whatever tension there is, but she stays still. And I start counting the seconds of silence between us.
Cat
Yes, I’m aware. I’m aware that I should tell Ronan how much it bothers me that he walks away whenever Miranda calls him, how much it bothers me that he obviously doesn’t want me to hear what they talk about. Heck, that it bothers me that she calls him in the first place—after trying to convince him to cheat on me, then abandoning him while he was at his most vulnerable. But the words feel petty in my mouth. So I swallow them. Again.
The rational, unemotional part of my brain constantly reminds me that I don’t have anything to worry about. Each time Miranda called Ronan it was noisy, and I’m sure the only reason Ronan walkedaway was to be able to hear her. I also just don’t want to get into it with him right now. I will tell him eventually, but not tonight, not when we’re surrounded by our friends, when this is a night to celebrate.
“Is something wrong?” Ronan asks me for the second time since sitting down with me.
I look into his beautiful green eyes and force my body to relax against him. I love him. I’ve always loved him. But I’m also irritated.
“Nothing’s wrong. Just getting sleepy.” I force a smile.
“Ran, I wanted to ask you something,” Zack says, hesitation prominent on his face as he leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, careful not to jostle Summer in her slumber.
