Page 98 of Real Fake Husband

Her eyes widen. “She asked you to take over?”

I nod.

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d do it.”

Instead of congratulating me, Kaylin steps closer and says in a low voice, “And you are not happy about that.”

“It’s a huge opportunity. Besides, it’s not like we didn’t know this was coming.”

Kaylin’s expression softens. “If this is really what you want, you know I’ll support you.”

Of course it’s not what I want. Not deep down. I know that now more than ever. But how can I disappoint Matilda? After everything she’s done for me? She’s been counting on me to take over for years. This was always the plan. I can’t do that to her.

“I’ll be fine, Kaylin,” I assure her. “It’s going to be good. Besides, this means you and I can finally implement some of those changes we’ve been wanting to make for a while. Like the schedule overlapping and stuff.”

Kaylin’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and I know she can sense I’m putting on a brave face. “That’d be awesome,” she says. “You’re going to besogreat.”

I give her a quick hug. “Come on, let’s get to work. We open soon.”

When the breakfast rush starts, I’m grateful to throw myself into my work. It keeps my mind focused on something other than the momentous changes quickly approaching. It also reminds me how much I love this job and the people I encounter. The more of the day that passes by, the more I warm to the idea of taking over.

I’ve always wanted to move the tables around for better flow. Oh, my God, and I can paint over this—let’s face it—hideous pink color and get cuter uniforms for the waitresses. All this might have been cute in the past, but I believe we can do so much better. In between rushes, Matilda has me sit with her while she goes over some of the finer details of restaurant management.

By the time I get home, my head is spinning.

Cal isn’t home when I get there. It’s crazy how, without realizing it, I’ve started thinking of the apartment as my home. I haven’t thought about my old place in weeks, aside from the occasional text from my friend who’s subletting the apartment in my absence. I take some time to unwind, but can’t seem to turn off my brain. Not even my sketchbook provides relief. I start to draw, but get so distracted that I end up staring off into space.

When Cal arrives home, that’s how he finds me: sitting on the couch, pencil loose between my fingers, as I stare out the window.

“Hello, Earth to Josie,” he says, his fingers softly brushing my head.

I blink, returning to myself. “Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly.” He collapses next to me on the sofa, throwing his arm around my shoulders. “What’s up? You look like you have a lot on your mind.”

“You can say that again.”

“Come on, talk to me. What are husbands for?”

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, busying myself with closing my sketchbook and putting my supplies away. “Matilda pulled me aside this morning to talk to me.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. She wanted to officially ask me to take over The Diner when she retires.”

Cal rubs my shoulder soothingly. “How did she take it when you turned her down?”

I bite my lip and look away from him. “I didn’t.”

His hand stops moving. “What do you mean you didn’t?”

“I didn’t turn her down. I said I’d do it.”

When I look up at Cal, he’s frowning. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

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