“I love you.” He leans forward, kissing my cheek.
“I love you too, Johnny.” He kisses my lips next, sweet and tender. Soft and warm. I melt inside, my tummy rumbling with those flutters I love feeling whenever he’s close.
“Let’s not argue anymore, okay? I hate arguing with you.”
“Okay. But only if we can make a deal.”
His brows draw together. “What kind of deal?”
“I promise to avoid arguments if, and only if, you promise to start going back to work—at least during the day.”
His face stiffens and I can already tell he’s ready to storm out the room again.
“Please, John? Just consider it.”
I know him. He’s ready to tell me no, but he knows saying no right now will result in another argument and no deal, so he says, “I’ll think about it.” He scratches his brow. “But I won’t be too happy about being away from you—and if I do go back, I’m only staying for a couple hours. Not all day.” By his tone, I can tell he’s been thinking about work a lot. He misses it. That kitchen is his second home.
I grin. “Good enough for me.”
He brings the blanket near my feet up to cover me. “Get some sleep. I’ll be right over there.”
“Kay.”
After placing one last kiss on my lips, he goes to the sofa and lies flat on his back. Several minutes later and he’s out like a light, snoring with the ferocity of a lion’s roar.
I nuzzle my cheek on my blanket and shut my eyes, but as I get comfortable, my phone vibrates on the table next to me.
A text message.
I pick it up and my heartbeat almost comes to standstill.
Max: I need to see you.
I read the message several times. I haven’t heard from Max in months—not since I told him I was sick and that he needed to stay away. Not since I’d chosen John to be the one by my side as I laid on my sickbed.
If John witnesses him staring at me the way he used to, with eyes so full of passion and care and tenderness, it would ruin everything.
Our marriage. My final days here on earth. Our love. Everything. I can’t afford hurting him during my last few weeks with him. Because it is getting close to the end. I feel it in my body, my soul.
I swallow thickly, dropping the phone and shutting it off. I won’t respond. Maybe he’ll take the hint that I don’t want him to see me—that he shouldn’t come see me. Not while I’m like this.
Maybe when I’m lifeless in a casket, then he can come, and at least by then, I won’t have to confront him about anything.
FOUR
Past
Four years ago
I wanted to strangle Eugene for having me think I was fired. Three days after Max told me I wasn’t, Eugene had hired two waiters. Quincy and Brenda. Granted, they were part-time employees, but it annoyed me to no end that he’d had the audacity to fire me just to hire two more people.
I heard from Max that he had to convince Eugene to hire more people because summer was coming and college kids would be out of school and looking for a place to hang out. The workload would be too much for the current employees, so it was best to be prepared ahead of time. He was right and, luckily, he saved Eugene’s ass from getting a serious talk with me when I saw I had more hours on my schedule.
“So, listen,” Max said after downing a swig of his beer. We were standing at the counter of the bar. It was a slow Thursday night. I turned my attention to him, sipping on a peach margarita while smiling behind the straw. “Remember that favor I said you’d owe me?”
I released my straw, placing my glass down as my smile slowly evaporated. He focused on my eyes. They didn’t dare shift, not even as I stared back. “Yeah?”
“I’d like to ask for that favor now.”
I adjusted on my stool, straightening my back. After clearing my throat, I said, “Okay…what is it? Need me to cover a shift for you? I don’t mind tackling a whole night if I need to. After all, that’s how it was before Maximilian the Great was hired.” I grinned.
He grinned back, his eyes relaxing. He turned in his seat to face me, giving me all of his attention. Even as the other female employees walked past in their black shirts, revealing flat bellies and rocking their low-rise jeans, he could only look at me. Me, with my sleeveless tee knotted in the back, my ripped jeans, and black ankle boots. I never felt the need to dress like the other girls.
Leaning forward, his chest close to mine, Max murmured, “Covering a shift isn’t exactly what I had in mind as a favor.”