Page 61 of Sin with Me

Today would have been my seventh anniversary with Reid.Just like every anniversary before this, I pack up a picnic basket and spend the day at The Fly. I lie on our blanket, eyes closed, imagining he’s beside me while the wind runs its fingers through my hair. I pair my favorite wine with a customized playlist full of songs that remind me of Reid. I watch new couples walk by, hand in hand, gazing up at each other as if they’re the only ones in the park. I watch old couples walk arm in arm as they look out over the water. And I wonder what people on the outside saw when they looked at me and Reid. I wonder if I will ever find the strength to have that with someone again, or if I’ll spend the rest of my years right here on this blanket, all alone.

I’m about two bottles and half a day into my wallowing when someone tugs the earbuds out of my ears.

“I figured I’d find you here,” Brynn announces as she takes the spot next to me.

“Am I that predictable?” I ask, and she shrugs. “Want some wine?” I offer.

“Well, you certainly don’t need any more,” she replies, taking the bottle from my hands.

“Brynn, I’m fine.”

“Oh, my dear, you are miles away from fine.”

We finish off the bottle then she drives me home, where she lies in bed with me, running her fingers through my hair until I fall asleep.

The next day, I finally start going through Reid’s things, packing some of the less sentimental items away in plastic totes and placing them in the back of a closet in a spare bedroom. Brynn’s right. It’s time. I’ll never be fine as long as I’m surrounded by everything that was so… him. I can’t bring myself to pack his dress blues, his basketball jersey, or some of my favorite T-shirts, though. I also leave the tattoo picture on the nightstand, and one taken of us on the beach in Destin, on the living room wall. But the rest, along with some of his trophies and plaques, I place in another tote next to the one with his clothes. The bottle of cologne I keep on the bathroom counter just so sometimes I can remember his scent is now tucked in a cabinet under the sink. It’s been an emotional day, and I could use a mental break and a great martini.

The familiar scent of garlic and fresh mozzarella immediately whisks me away to a place of comfort and security. Jaxon seems happy to see me, and I’m surprised at how good it makes me feel to see him too. We spend his lunch break catching up over a brownie and some ice cream.

The staff kitchen is a generous-sized room, equipped with a full-size refrigerator, sink, dishwasher, and microwave. In the center of the room there’s a rectangular table for six, and off to one side is a set of lockers for personal belongings. Across the hall from the kitchen is Carlos’s office, where the door is closed as usual.

“Jaxon, I just want to tell you I’m sorry for not really being… present, lately.” I grab two spoons from a drawer then turn to face him.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, “Makenna, you don’t need to apologize. I get it.”

“It’s just that this time of year is hard for me.” I take a seat at the table and hand him a spoon.

He slides his heavy wooden chair closer to mine and lays one hand on top of my thigh. I’m filled with both disappointment and relief when my body doesn’t react like a crazy horny woman when he touches me. Why don’t you behave like this with Cal? I ask the little traitor.

“Well, you brought brownies and ice cream. That definitely earns you bonus points,” Jaxon says, stopping my train of thought before it has a chance to leave the station.

“Thank you.” I smile. “For understanding.”

He nods in silent appreciation, then raises a cream-filled spoon to my mouth and watches as it disappears between my lips and onto my tongue before he carefully slides it out again. His sharp exhale could be heard over the faint music playing in the background, as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time. Instinct and reflex has me licking the remaining ice cream from my lips, and the intimacy of the moment begins to weigh on both of us.

Please don’t kiss me again.

After several seconds of apparent internal conflict, a server I don’t recognize rushes into the room, breathless. “We’re slammed and Allie is a no-show for her shift.”

“Fuck,” Jaxon says, then he withdraws his hand from my thigh and clears his throat.

Thank God.

“I probably should get back to work,” he says, finally, and I don’t offer an argument.

The server guy was right. In the matter of minutes that we were in the back, nearly every table at Suppato’s is full and the staff can barely keep up. After four years of working here, I’m no stranger to a crowd this size, so I strap on an apron and approach a few tables next to the bar until Jaxon gets caught up. It doesn’t take long for me to miss the excitement of it all.

It’s been about a month since the last time I saw Cal. I suppose he’s reverted back to lurking in the shadows. But when he walks down the hallway and turns the corner into the dining room, my feet grow roots and latch onto the floor right where I stand. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and every part of me comes to life. Long gone is the dead girl who was just wishing a man wouldn’t kiss her.

Cal is dressed in his trademark black dress pants and matching button-up shirt, and his hair looks like someone has just had their fingers tangled in it. A twinge of jealousy startles me at the thought that’s actually highly possible. I quickly blow it off and continue serving Jaxon’s tables as if I’d never seen him.

Cal moves from table to table with a quiet confidence that only he can pull off. And when he smiles, the world stops spinning, and I am left breathless. Other women feel it too. I witness it in the way they blush when he looks at them.

When he gets to the table where I’m busy refilling water glasses, my body tenses as his shoulders brush against mine.

“I wasn’t aware you were on staff tonight,” he says.

“Well, we’re very glad to see Makenna back,” the male customer tells him before I can respond.

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