He stared at her, looked down into the bag with a finger fishing through Styrofoam containers, then lifted his head and grinned, all crooked and rascal.

“Look at you, knowing what I like.”

Tori scoffed.

Exhibit A stood and thanked us under his breath before trailing behind Jamie out the door.

I wasn’t the only one watching through tilted shutter shades as the Boys of Summer climbed into a vintage sky blue Jeep with boards stacked on the roof.

It pulled to the end of the lot, dust kicking up behind the tires before it settled and cleared.

A bright yellow sticker on the bumper read, If it swells, ride it.

I chuckled.

Tori held up one finger while her other hand swiped the cash off the table, mumbling, “Ride this, loser.”

We giggled and high-fived.

Two hours later I slipped into the lounge for some privacy and tugged out my phone during my second fifteen-minute break. I typed with one hand while my other twirled a lock of red.

Hey, Trouble. Good lunch with your amigos?

He took twenty-three minutes to respond. I read it behind the bar with my back to my best friend.

Day went to shit, Wild. Busy. Talk later.

* * *

I got home from work with Tori a little after eight o’clock.

It was a long first day and we were both starving, which was funny seeing as we worked around food all day and, thus, ate an abundance of that food all day.

After changing out of my uniform and into my sleepy pants, I took the leftover shrimp tacos out of the fridge, heated what needed to be heated in the microwave while Tori danced around me with plates in her hands, then joined her on the couch, where we ate our dinner with some wine and watched the first episode of True Blood, because our vampire-loving hearts were missing Eric and his fantastic head of hair.

We loved Season 1 Eric. His hair was on point.

Not that he wasn’t still attractive with short hair after Pam had to cut it, because he was, this is Eric we’re talking about, but we just loved it all long and free-like.

“Made for tugging,” Tori snickered.

When I started yawning through Episode 4, I gave my best friend a kiss on the cheek and climbed the stairs, leaving her on the couch since she wasn’t tired yet and, as she put it, “Needed more of her LaLa.”

I caught the last remaining notes of my generic ringtone as I reached my bedroom. And because I didn’t know who was calling me and Brian had texted me “Talk later,” this being Later, I lunged for the phone and accepted the call, not bothering to glance at the name flashing on the screen before I did it.

“Hello?”

“Sydney Dawn, how are you, sweetheart?”

I fell back on the bed with a hand pressed to my forehead, the heel digging into my closed eye.

I should’ve checked the caller ID.

Rookie.

“Hey, Mom. I’m good. How are you?”

“You’re good?” She sounded appalled. “You leave your husband and you’re good? Well, I’m sorry, darling, but I don’t like this. I don’t like it one bit. You should not be good, Sydney.”

“Mom.”

I clenched my teeth.

“You know what scripture says. Marriage is a binding contract. One you do not simply walk away from. You should be sticking this out, in your home, not shacking up with Tori and living the single life doing God knows what. She’s always walked a thin line, if you ask me.”

“Mm. That’s funny. I don’t remember asking you anything.”

“Don’t give me lip,” my mother snapped in her finger-waving-in-my-face tone. “It’s disrespectful.”

I bent my knees and dug my bare toes into the comforter. My calves tensed.

“Don’t talk about my best friend, Mom. It’s really uncool.”

“I’m simply saying, you should be home, with your husband and dealing with this as a couple. It takes two, dear, and you’re backing out when you should be fighting for your marriage.”

“I’m not backing anywhere! He wanted out!”

My mother gasped, breathed heavily through lingered seconds, then queried, “My God. Why are you yelling?”

“Are you serious?” I sat up, punched the mattress with my fist, and cried, “You’re making me crazy! That’s why I’m yelling.”

My face and neck warmed in exhausted anger.

How could she throw all of this on me? I didn’t understand her. She knew Marcus was the one who ended things. I’d told her the entire play-by-play three nights ago, and it’s my fault?

Was she serious?

“Marriage is a covenant, Sydney,” she started again in a soothing but instructive tone.

I pressed my lips together so tightly I could feel my pulse against my teeth.

“An unbreakable vow between you, Marcus, and God. Now, I’m not saying I ever thought much of your husband, because truth be told, I didn’t. Thought my baby girl could do a thousand times better, but you chose him, vowed to him, ’til death do you part, and that is not something you should take lightly and just throw away when things aren’t working.”

“I didn’t throw anything away,” I replied after taking a breath, willing my battering heart to slow.

“Well, it sure sounds like you did,” my mother argued. “And divorce is not an option.”

“Do you even hear yourself, Mom? What about women in abusive relationships? Or adultery? What if Marcus would’ve cheated, would divorce be an option then?”




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