“Hey, V,” Molly greeted as she stepped inside Foodie. She brought a cool breeze with her, and I stood frozen still, trying to get the most of it.
The end of September had brought a change in the weather. The leaves on the trees had started changing color and began to crisp. The evening breeze now smelled like campfires and football. And I wasn’t drenched in sweat by the end of every night. Still sweaty of course, just not completely soaked with it.
“Hey, Molls.” I spun to face my best friend as she put her stuff down and pulled her hair into a high ponytail, fiddling with her bangs so they didn’t get swept up with the rest. “Guess what?”
“What?” she asked around the hair tie in her mouth.
I held up the money pouch for her. “I’m going to pay you tonight!”
She blinked at me. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Because you’re here practically every night and you deserve at least minimum wage.”
She snorted a laugh. “Well, as flattering as that sounds, no thank you. I don’t need money. I’m here because I want to be.”
“No way,” I argued. “I’m paying you. I’ve totally taken over your life since I’ve been back in town. I keep you from your other friends and fun Friday nights. You don’t even date anymore, and it’s because of me.”
“Please, I don’t have other friends. At least not ones that mean as much as you. And I don’t want to date. That has nothing to do with you. I’m sick of dating boys playing dress up as men.” She dropped her hands to her hips and held my gaze. “Plus, I don’t want to be anywhere else but here. That’s enough payment for me—that you’re here and you’re happy. And that you’re far, far away from Chef Douchebag.”
My heart hiccupped with the mention of Derrek and the relationships I’d damaged when I was with him. It was hard for me to forgive myself for not coming to Molly sooner or being honest with her. I hadn’t been the only one going through something at that time. Derrek had shut me away from my friends and family, but Molly had lost her best friend too.
It would have been easy to blame everything on Derrek. And don’t get me wrong, he was responsible for a lot. But I also had to own up to my part. I had to be honest with myself about what I’d let him do and say and turn me into.
If for no other reason than to make sure it never happened again.
“Well, I’m still paying you,” I told her smartly. “So just accept it.”
Molly pushed the stool over and sat down next to the open window. “I won’t. It’s like stealing from a charity. I feel too guilty.”
“Are you calling me a charity?” I couldn’t believe her.
She avoided my eyes. “You only just got back on your feet, Vera. I’m not taking any of that away from you. You deserve every penny.”
My eyes misted with tears I refused to let fall. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Molly. I probably couldn’t have come home if you weren’t here.”
“You would have come home for your dad,” she chided. “That’s not even a question. How is he doing by the way?”
It was so like Molly to steer the focus of the conversation away from her. She hated being the center of attention. And she hated whenever anyone made a big deal about anything she did. Which was why she was a graphic designer instead of an artist.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He’s okay. He finally gave into surgery. So that’s scheduled for the end of the month.”
“I thought he wasn’t going to do it?”
Swallowing through a lump of emotion, I said, “Vann and I have finally convinced him to stick around a little while longer. He’s doing it for us.”
She nodded, absorbing the information with thought. “And then more chemo?”
I mimicked her head bobbing. “Only if the surgery doesn’t work.”
Reaching out she squeezed my hand. “He’s going to pull through, Vere. He’s too strong to let this defeat him.” I hoped she was right. “Oh.” Molly sounded so disappointed that for a second I panicked thinking her sudden emotional shift had something to do with my dad.
“What?”
She slid off her stool and walked to the back of the truck. “You have a customer.”
Sure enough, I did. Ezra Baptiste approached the window looking like an editorial for GQ. He fiddled with the cuffs of his crisp white oxford, tugging one in place above a matte black watch. He appeared bored and casually aloof, and so handsome it hurt to look directly at him.
Molly had scurried to the back of the truck like a scared church mouse, and that left me in charge of the window. But my feet refused to move. Ezra was the most intimidating man I would probably ever meet.
Almost as much as Killian had been at first.
He didn’t wait for me to walk to the window. His shrewd gaze focused with laser-like accuracy over me in a quick, assessing glance. “Vera, right?”
I finally mustered the courage to walk over to him, wondering if this had something to do with Killian. “Yes.”
His expression remained serious. “What’s on your menu tonight, Vera?”
Narrowing my gaze, I tried to figure out if he was for real. He wanted to order from me? “Cubano and duck fat fries.”
His eyes flickered over the truck, the front, the signage, the inside through the windows. He took his time deciding whether the dish sounded appealing or not. Finally, with a sharp nod and another tug on his sleeve causing his cufflinks to wink in the light coming from the truck, he said, “I’ll take it. One, please.”
This had to be a joke. “Are you Killian’s spy tonight?” I asked, mostly kidding. Killian stopped sending his version of secret shoppers a while ago. There was no need when he stopped by every night to tell me his opinion in person. He’d also helped me craft the weekly menu option, so his opinions were a lot more positive recently.
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “Killian’s spy? I’m not sure what that means, but I can assure you, no. Killian didn’t send me. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be the happiest if he knew I was here.” He held out his money, and since I had no idea how to respond to that ambiguous explanation, I took it.
Attempting a confident smile, I pointed to the other window. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll have it ready for you down there.”
He nodded, taking a step back. His gaze once again inspected the inside of the truck, absorbing every inch he could see through the windows. The second he found Molly hiding out in the back, his frown turned into… more of a frown. He glared openly, not seeming to like seeing her at all.
I threw her a questioning look, but her attention was firmly on her feet.
Ignoring all the weird vibes coming from everyone, I started his order.
“What does he want?” Molly asked in a low voice so he couldn’t hear her outside the open window.
I chuckled dryly, not believing it was true. “The Cubano.”
She huffed a disgruntled sound. “He’s so pretentious. I don’t know how Killian works with him.”