That’s honestly kind of adorable. “Hopefully you like coffee.”
“I survive on coffee. You don’t want to be around me if I haven’t had it.” Roman’s eyes lock on something behind me. I turn around to find Ledger standing between his truck and the back door to the bar. He’s staring at us.
Roman doesn’t pause like I do. He keeps walking toward the back door to the bar. “Kenna is borrowing a table and some chairs for a thing she’s having Sunday. We put them at the bottom of the stairwell. Grab them before you leave.”
“Nicole,” Ledger says, correcting Roman.
“Nicole. Whatever,” Roman says. “Don’t forget. Tables. Chairs. Ride home.” He disappears into the bar.
Ledger looks at the ground for a moment before staring at me. “What kind of thing do you need a table for?”
I shove my hands in my back pockets. “It’s just a lunch on Sunday. At my apartment.” He continues to stare at me as if he wants more of an explanation.
“Sunday is Mother’s Day.”
I nod and start walking toward the door. “Yep. Might as well celebrate with the mothers at my apartment since I can’t celebrate the day with my own daughter.” My voice is clipped when I walk inside. Maybe a bit accusatory. The door falls shut behind me with a thud, and I walk straight to the sink and turn on the water. I grab the headphones Mary Anne let me borrow last week, but this time I plug them into my phone now that I finally have one. I loaded up an audiobook to get me through the shift.
I can feel a slight breeze meet my neck when Ledger enters the building. I wait a few seconds and then look over my shoulder to see where he is and what he’s doing.
He’s walking toward the front, staring straight ahead the whole time. I can’t tell what he’s thinking when he wears that stoic expression. The thing about Ledger’s expressions is I haven’t really seen many of them since the first night he was working. He seemed loose and carefree that night behind the bar. But since the moment he found out who I was, he seems inflexible in my presence. Almost like he’s doing everything he can to keep me from knowing his thoughts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LEDGER
The joints in my body feel locked in place as I attempt to execute the motions of the evening with a stiffness that should be the result of a hangover. But I’m not hungover. Just . . . irritated? Is that what this is?
I’m reacting like an asshole. I know it and Roman knows it, but my maturity can’t seem to catch up and take over.
How long has Kenna been here? How long were they in Roman’s apartment? Why did she seem short with me? Why the fuck do I care?
I don’t know what to do with these feelings, so I wad them up and try to keep them stuffed in my throat, or my stomach, or wherever people tuck away this shit. I don’t need to start this shift with an attitude. It’s the end of finals week. Tonight is going to be insane enough as it is.
I turn on the jukebox and the first song that comes on is one left over from last night’s queue. “If We Were Vampires,” by Jason Isbell.
Great. An epic love song. Just what Kenna needs.
I walk to the back and notice she’s got her headphones on. I grab all the fruit I normally slice at the beginning of my shift and take it to the front.
I’m slicing up a lime, possibly a little too angrily, when Roman says, “You good?”
“I’m fine.” I try to say it like I would normally say it, but I don’t know how I would normally say it because Roman never has to ask me if I’m good. I’m usually always good.
“Rough day?” he asks.
“Great day.”
He sighs and reaches over, pulling the knife out of my hand. I press my palms into the counter and turn to look at him. He’s leaning casually on his elbow, twirling the knife in a circle with his finger while he stares at me. “It was nothing,” he says. “She borrowed a table and some chairs. We were upstairs for three minutes.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” He releases an exasperated laugh. “Shit, man. I didn’t peg you for the jealous type.”
I reach for my knife and start slicing through the limes again. “It has nothing to do with jealousy.”
“What is it, then?” he asks.
I’m about to answer him, probably with some bullshit lie, but the door swings open and four guys spill into the bar. Loud, ready to celebrate, possibly already drunk. I cut our conversation short and prepare for a shift I’m not at all in the mood for.