“That’s a great idea, Way. Speaking of parties…”
Waylay heaved a sigh and looked up at the ceiling.
“Your birthday is coming up,” I reminded her. Between Liza, my parents, and me, we already had a closet full of wrapped gifts. We’d been badgering her about her big day for weeks, but she’d remained annoyingly noncommittal. “Have you figured out how you want to celebrate?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh my gosh, Aunt Naomi! I told you nine million times I don’t like birthdays. They’re dumb and disappointing and lame.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“Not to guilt-trip you, but your grandma will go into hysterics if you don’t at least let her bake you a cake.”
I saw the calculating look on her face. “What kind of cake?”
I booped her nose with a spatula. “That’s the best part about birthdays. You get to pick.”
“Huh. I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.”
I had just poured the eggs into the skillet when I felt arms around my waist and a face press into my back.
“I’m sorry Knox was a douchewaffle, Aunt Naomi,” Waylay said, her voice muffled.
My throat tightened as I squeezed her hands with my own. It was such a new, fragile thing, this affection she showed me in moments when I least expected it. I was afraid I’d do or say the wrong thing and scare her off. “I am too. But we’ll be okay. We’ll be better than okay,” I promised.
She released me. “Hey. Those jerks didn’t steal my new jeans with the pink flowers when they broke in, did they?”
Fi: I don’t know what’s going on between you two. But Knox just offered me $1,000 to put you on the schedule tonight since you called in sick your last two shifts. I can either split it with you or tell him to fuck off. Your call!
Me: Sorry. I can’t. I’m hosting a bonfire tonight and you’re invited.
Fi: Fuck yeah! Can I bring my annoying family?
Me: I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.
FORTY-TWO
THE OLD KNOX
Knox
I wasn’t going to admit it, but the ice princess routine was killing me. It had been five days since I’d told Naomi the truth. Since I’d ended things to spare her feelings. And I was fucking miserable.
The relief I’d expected from ending things never came. Instead, I felt sick and uneasy. Almost guilty. It felt worse than my first over-thirty hangover.
I wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before Naomi showed up with fucking daisies in her hair. But they couldn’t. Not with her in town avoiding me.
It was no small feat, given that she lived with my grandmother. She’d called off from her shifts at Honky Tonk. I’d expected relief that I didn’t have to face her, but the longer she went without answering my texts or calls, the more uneasy I felt.
She should have gotten over this by now. Hell. I should have gotten over this by now.
“Your five o’clock canceled,” Stasia said when I returned to Whiskey Clipper from my late lunch break spent at Dino’s, getting glares and cold pizza that I didn’t even feel like eating.
She and Jeremiah were cleaning up for closing.
“Seriously?” It was the third client to cancel on me this week. Two of them had rescheduled with Jeremiah and sat in his chair tossing me judgmental looks. None of them had the balls to say anything. But they didn’t need to. I took enough of a beating from the Honky Tonk girls.
“Guess you must have pissed them off somehow,” Stasia mused.