“Hi.” I smile. “My name’s Jo and I’ll be taking your order today. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
“How’s the cacciatore?” the guy asks.
“Really good. I’m partial to the lasagna.” I wink and lower my voice as if I’m letting him in on a secret, even though it’s announced on the menu. “It’s the owner’s mother-in-law’s recipe and it’s legit.”
“I’ll have the lasagna then.” He smiles, handing over the menu. I jot it down after plucking it from his hand and look at Jagger.
“I’ll have the same.” He hands me his menu.
“Do you want anything else to drink besides water?”
“Water is fine.” Jagger picks up his glass and takes a long sip through his straw until it’s obvious he needs a refill. So obnoxious. Such a Jagger thing to do. I resist the urge to roll my eyes or comment on it as I take it from the table when he sets it down.
“What do you have on tap? Anything local?” the friend asks.
“I can check for you.” I glance at the bar briefly, but can’t make out the labels on the handles from where I stand. “I’m new. Sorry.”
“No worries. Take your time.” His smile is warm as he gives me a once-over. I walk away and head back to the kitchen.
“Two lasagnas,” I call out, tearing the paper from the pad and setting it on the queue for them.
I turn around and refill the glass with water before making my way back to their table, but before I can reach it, Lawrence walks up to me and blocks my path.
I freeze, meeting his clear blue eyes. “I’m working.”
“We need to talk.”
“We don’t and even if we did, we can’t talk while I’m working,” I whisper-shout. “If you really wanted to talk, you would have called.”
“Apologies shouldn’t be said over the phone.”
“I don’t want another apology.” I glare at him. “Leave it alone.”
“I can’t leave it alone.” He lowers his voice and his head is closer to mine. My heart stops beating.
“If you kiss me I will throw this all over you and punch you and if I get fired you’re going to have to pay me a lot of money.”
“Fine. I’ll wait.” He steps back.
I swallow and continue moving, setting Jagger’s water down on the table. I don’t miss the pissed-off expression on his face before I turn away and move onto one of my other tables. There’s something to be said about adrenaline and the way it pushes you out of your comfort zone because it propels me to move around the restaurant faster than I ever have.
I’m taking the trash out before leaving when Lawrence catches up to me again. I groan, wishing I’d let Patrick do it, like he said he would. That way, I would’ve already been safely in my car and driving away. Instead, I feel like I’m being emotionally attacked.
“Are you free now?” he asks, hands in his pockets.
I wish I could say I didn’t miss him, but that would be a lie. After three years of feeling his arms around me, I can’t really deny it, and it makes me feel even more insecure because why should I miss someone who hurt me the way he did? He cheated on me, who knows how many times, before I finally caught him with a person I thought was my friend.
“What do you want? Why are you even here?”
“I came to apologize.”
“Now?” I shake my head. “How am I even supposed to take you seriously?”
“It took that long for me to realize how badly I’d fucked up.”
“Yeah.” I let out a laugh. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He walks forward. “Just . . . give me another chance. I’ll make this right.”
“What about Crystal?” I cross my arms.
“What about her? Who cares? That’s old news.” His eyes search mine. “It’s over.”
“Why’d you do it?” I hate the way my voice breaks.
“I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his blond waves. “I’m an idiot. I guess I let myself get caught up in the fact that I haven’t been with anyone else since we got here and college is supposed to be this wild experience and . . . ” He shrugs. “I’m the starting quarterback, babe. Do you know how many women throw themselves at me?”
“But you couldn’t ignore my friend.” My voice wavers. “I thought she was a friend.”
“She was never your friend.” His expression turns serious. “She was hitting on me the entire time you were friends.”
My chest squeezes. “Is knowing that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.” He raises a hand and sets it on my shoulder. I pull away, putting distance between us. “I’m sorry. I just want to say I’m sorry and I want to try this again.”
“No.”
“Think about it. Are you going to the barbecue tomorrow?”