I see a swish of her curtains. Movement. A sure sign that she’s in there and knows I’m standing out here like a sad puppy.
“I’m not done being mad at you,” is what she calls from inside.
My lips twitch. She sounds so … huffy. And I can take this. I can take her being mad at me. I can wait her out. I will happily wait her out.
“That’s fine. I just came to bring you breakfast and your tips from last night. And a little something else.”
I glance down at the tray in my hands. Coffee. Scrambled eggs. Strawberries. Cash. Envelope.
Her door swings open and my heart lurches in my chest. Her eyes are puffy, thick hair drawn back in a high ponytail.
“Why are you bringing me tips?”
“Because it was your shift.”
“I quit.”
“I worked it for you anyway.”
She sniffs and her nose wiggles as she glances away. “Didn’t know you could bartend.”
“I can’t, and Gary was really mean to me all night.”
Her dark eyes laser in on me and I can see her fighting her lips into a downward curve at that tidbit. “Good.”
“Here.” I hold the tray out to her and sigh with relief when she takes it and I see my ring still on her finger.
“What’s in the envelope? Why does it say #teambailey on it?”
I shrug. “Some people from town dropped by with cash to help with your new unemployment status. Gary wrote the hashtag.”
“People from town? Gave me cash?”
“It would seem you going off on them had an effect. You may have inspired some … remorse?”
She sniffs. “I don’t want their cash. Don’t need it.”
“Well, good luck returning it. There’s a lot in there. From multiple different people and businesses. I don’t think they know how to say sorry to you, and this is the best they could come up with.”
Her irises widen as she stares down at the tray, lips lightly parted like she’s ready to say something but can’t find the words. To be fair, I was surprised too.
“Fuck me,” is what she settles on.
“I know.” I agree with a light chuckle, which just earns me a sour glare.
“Stop agreeing with me. We’re still fighting.”
I hold my hands up in surrender and start backing away from her. “Sorry. My bad. It’s just that I am also hashtag team Bailey.”
She shakes her head at me. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
And I just give her a salute and a wink. Because yeah, I am.
No one has ever showed up for Bailey, but she’s about to get the full experience.
“No, sugar. When it comes to you, I’m downright hopeless.”
“What is this?”
I smile because Bailey doesn’t look as disheveled today. No, my girl looks stronger. Like she slept.
Her oversized crew neck is loose on her petite frame, long tan legs stretching out of her sleep shorts, stacked fuzzy socks on her feet as she holds the trailer door open with a scowl on her face.
She’s got a pen stuck behind her ear.
I imagine this is how she’ll look when she’s cramming for final exams at university.
I’ll be bringing her breakfast and coffee then too.
I stare down at the tray. “Food. And caffeine. Thought you might need it before you head to the gym again today.”
“How do you know I work at the gym today?”
“I asked Summer. She didn’t know that anything was amiss between us.”
“Why would she?” Bailey crosses her arms and quirks a hip. Ring flashing on her finger.
I shrug. “Thought you might have told her while you were there yesterday.”
She rolls her eyes, looking her age. But what comes out of her mouth is wise beyond her years. “No, Beau. I’m not going to run to your family wagging my tongue about what a shithead you’ve been because that’s our business, not theirs.”
Our business.
That sentiment gives me hope.
I clear my throat and offer her a nod, not wanting to overstep. She’s clearly still miffed with me.
Bailey’s finger points down at the tray. “What’s that?”
“Cash.”
“Why?”
“Because I worked your shift at the bar again last night. Gary stiffed me. Said he wasn’t paying someone as stupid as me to pour his beers and then threw his keys at me.”
Her hand comes up to cover her mouth as her eyes flit away. I know she’s trying to smother a laugh.
“You should keep it—”