Page 14 of Chasing Infinity

“I did,” Jack replies warily. “I hope he’s planning to pay you.”

I look up at him and raise my eyebrows. “Oh shit, I didn’t even think to discuss payment.”

“I’m sure that’s what he was banking on.”

I groan and scribble a few notes down on the pad. “I’ll just send the bill to his office and keep sending it until I get a check.”

“Have you ever done catering before, Addie?”

“Nope,” I say, my lips popping over the word. I shoot Jack a fake smile. “But there is a first for everything, isn’t there? Now let’s get to work. We have a lot to do.”

The rest of the day passes like organized chaos and moves into Sunday. Sundays are usually busy for the diner anyway, as many of the townsfolk like to come in for brunch after church. Add planning the meal for tomorrow on top of that?

Organized Chaos.

Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I didn’t have Jack there to help me run the place. My life would be infinitely more chaotic without him. I’m hoping that Grace can pick up some slack tomorrow since she’ll be home this evening. I’m overly thankful that I have my dream team to help keep everything afloat.

As night falls, the diner traffic slows by the hour. By eight o’clock, the place looks like a ghost town, and I’ve sent everyone home for the evening. I don’t usually lock the door until nine. Still, I’ll take the quiet as an opportunity to finish organizing everything for tomorrow.

Grabbing my notepad, a menu, and a cup of coffee, I sit at one of the tables by the window so I can work and spread out all that I need. I have the majority of the menu for the repast all planned out. I aim to keep things as simple as possible so I don’t work myself into the ground, ensuring all the guests are fed and content. I dive into my work for an hour or two, crossing items off my to-do list as I go in hopes of polishing my plan for tomorrow.

The night drags on, and I work until my upper back and neck cramp up. I try to massage a knot in my shoulder, but when that doesn’t work, I put my pen down on the table and raise my arms above my head. My middle back bends over the back edge of the chair as I stretch out my spine. The movement is a relief, and I take a deep breath in and out, allowing the extra oxygen to help my muscles relax. I am not used to being hunched at a table for so long, and I am paying the price with my protesting body.

In the middle of my stretch, I catch movement outside in my peripheral vision, and I turn my head to see Noah trekking down the sidewalk. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his gaze straight on the pavement in front of him. My heart rate picks up, and part of me hopes he’ll come in and say hi. But disappointment sets in when he walks by without even looking up.

Noah continues to stroll down the sidewalk, unaware I’m sitting a few measly yards from him. With his head bowed and slow pace, I wonder if he is troubled by something—I mean, the man haslotsgoing on in his life right now. I wish I could talk to him to see if I could help, but I’m not confident he would welcome that. Before, I wouldn’t have hesitated. We were always that person for each other. Looking back, Noah’s troubles ultimately changed the tides between us in the first place. I happened to be in the right place at the right time, and he accepted my help. Noah let his guard down, allowing himself to be vulnerable, trusting that I wouldn’t take advantage of him when he couldn’t fight back.

Up to that point, we had consistently been each other’s rivals, taking turns on who would have the last word. It was him versus me, no questions asked—until that day. After that, there was an unspoken treaty between us, and we quietly and quickly became each other’s confidants. I had no doubt that I could turn to Noah for anything and everything and that he could do the same. The tides changed from that moment on, and our friendship developed, gradually taking on a more romantic air as the years passed. Still, the foundation of our relationship remained the same.

The way Noah and I are skirting around each other now is a stark contrast to how close we were at one point. I secretly wonder if those versions of ourselves are lost forever or if we can find them again. From my perch inside the diner, I can see his set expression and furrowed eyebrows illuminated by the street lamps. He meanders until he stops in front of Monty’s market and pulls out a set of keys from his pocket.

Noah unlocks his car and opens the back door, crawling in the rear seat. I watch him close the door again, disappearing into his makeshift bed. I grip my coffee cup in both hands, still staring at where he was last standing, and frown into my drink. I don’t like that he’s sleeping in there. Not that Willow Heights is riddled with crime, but he should have someplace comfortable and warm to rest.

I pick up my notepad and menu with a frustrated sigh and pour out the remainder of my coffee. I fear that if I sit here any longer, I’ll look up at Noah’s car every few minutes, and I won’t finish what I need to do tonight. Giving one last forlorn glance out the window, I lock the front door and shut the place down.

As soon as I’m upstairs in my apartment, I change out of my jeans and find some lounge pants so I can finish working comfortably.

Another hour passes, and I make it to the point where I’m satisfied with my progress when I hear a loud call from the entrance to my apartment. “‘Darling, I’m home!’”

A door closes, and I hear a thump of a purse and a set of keys. I’m sitting on my bed, running expense numbers on my laptop, but I can’t help the grin that crosses my face. I roll off my bed and pad out of my bedroom into the living room.

In front of me stands the refreshing sight of my best friend. Her hands are on her hips, and she greets me with a blinding smile. “Did ya miss me?” she asks playfully.

I bound over to her and wrap my arms around her thin frame in a hug. Grace was out of town for only a week, but it felt like ages to me. “Of course I missed you! Thank you for coming over! How was your trip?”

“It was good overall. I’m glad I was able to go. How have things been here?” Grace asks me, pulling away and grabbing both of my hands in her own, contrasting my pale skin with her dark ebony. “I see everything is still standing.”

I drop my shoulders with a sigh. “Barely. Gosh, so much has happened in the last week. I—”

“Tell me everything. Right now. Where’s the wine?”

“It’s in the fridge,” I say with a laugh. Grace bolts over to my refrigerator, yanking it open and giving a great sigh of relief.

“Ah, you’re an angel; you got Merlot!”

“I know it’s your favorite,” I reply, going over to the china cabinet and reaching for two long-stemmed wine glasses. I stroll into the living room to my couch, where Grace has set up camp and is working on uncorking the bottle. She pulls it out with apopand pours us each a generous serving.

We pick our glasses up and clink them together before Grace hits me with a look that instantly makes me feel guilty for something, though I don’t know what. Her warm eyes display mischief as she waits for me to spill my guts expectantly. I take another deep sip of my wine, pretending not to notice.

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