“Listen, I’ll try, but I just don’t see how I can make something happen.”
I nod my head like a madwoman and pretend he didn’t say that second half. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I really hate that Callie girl,” he says.
Relief floods my chest. “No stronger bond than a common enemy.”
I hurry back over to the table where I left Mitch. “I am so sorry,” I tell him.
He’s unfazed. “Can’t beat a Jell-O craving.”
I shove a spoonful in my mouth. I could have at least gone for the red bowl.
“Hey,” Mitch says. “Not to put you on the spot, but my mom’s been talking about making you a homecoming mum, and I wanted to make sure that wouldn’t be awkward or anything.”
I smile. “No, that wouldn’t be awkward or anything.”
The door chime at the Chili Bowl so rarely rings, which means I always find myself startled when it does.
Ron, my former boss, walks in. Because of the log cabin interior and maroon accents, he looks like a candy cane in the middle of a lumberyard with his red-and-white-striped shirt and white pants.
“Ron,” I whisper, circling around the counter. “What are you doing here?”
“Maybe I want chili,” he says, a little too loudly.
I cross my arms over my chest and give him the best cut-the-shit stare I can muster.
“All right.” His voice drops a few degrees. “Listen, we’re desperate and super shorthanded. I’ve got Lydia working sixty-hour weeks covering your old shift because everyone we hire leaves when they find something better. She’s threatening to quit on me and I can’t afford to see her go.”
My head’s shaking before he can even finish.
“Hear me out.” He puts one hand up. “You left in an awful hurry. I may be old, but I’m not dumb. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, I promise the boys will be on their best behavior. I grilled each of them—Marcus and Bo—after you left, and I got nothing.” He shakes his head, and I see the lines of exhaustion crowded around his mouth and eyes. “Give us a second chance. I’m begging you, Will.”
I open my mouth to say no, but nothing comes out. Ron’s always been so kind to me, and I think I owe it to him to at least pretend that I’ll think about it. “I’ll let you know by the end of the week. I’m going to have to think on it.”
He holds his hands up. “Fair enough. Fair enough.” He pulls his wallet from his back pocket. “I’ll take a cup of chili.”
I only see a few more customers for the rest of the night, which gives me far too much time to think. At first, I’m logical. You don’t make nearly as much money as you used to at Harpy’s and your car’s stuck in the shop. At least Harpy’s is busy enough to make the time go by faster.
Then I remember how lonely these last few weeks have felt. Millie, Hannah, Amanda, and Mitch, too, are okay—great even. But they’re no Ellen. The thought of going back to Harpy’s feels like comfort food. And not just because of Bo. I miss Marcus and Ron, too.
Bo was the reason I quit. The reason why I couldn’t bear to work there anymore. But now that anger I’ve trained myself to feel seems false. Like a pretense of what I thought it should be. And it’s pretty obvious he’s over me, too. I don’t know for sure, but I’ve heard whispers about him and Bekah. And if I don’t think about what it felt like to kiss him, then I can tell myself that they’re cute together. That they match. And maybe the burning that could only be jealousy will go away.
Before leaving work, I scrub everything down and refill the already stuffed condiment bar. I’m still thinking, I tell myself. I haven’t made up my mind. I say good night to Alejandro and get in my mom’s car.
Rather than turning left out of the the Chili Bowl, my foot presses against the gas pedal, almost flying across the street and into the parking lot of Harpy’s. I have crossed the line in the sand.
The dining room doors are locked, but I bang on them anyway.