Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Greyson attacked him?" Jo asks, as she places a chicken salad sandwich in front of a customer.
Chuck refuses to ever let Jo and I work the same section at the diner – something about us doing more gossiping than working – but one of the girls called out today and he has no choice, so we're both working the lunch shift behind the counter for the first time in weeks, and he's already scolded us several times.
"Well, not really. I mean, technically yes, but..." I swivel around Jo and grab a plate containing a patty melt and a mixed green salad, and a cup of chicken noodle soup from Chuck's hands and set them in front of Mrs. Waldie, my high school cheerleading coach who has long since retired. "I don't normally condone violence, but Will asked for it. He's good at reading people, so he knew exactly what to say to Greyson to get him to lose his cool, and unfortunately for Will, it worked."
"What did he say?"
"He called Greyson a loser and said he left baseball because he wasn't good enough to hang with everyone else. He called him a failure. All the things Greyson already thinks about himself. Then he said some things about me that I'd rather not repeat in public, and Greyson snapped." I refill Mrs. Waldie's sweet tea and give her a friendly smile, hoping to God she hasn't been paying attention to our conversation. "I think anyone would have."
Jo and I move around each other like a choreographed dance, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think we've been working at this diner together our whole lives.
"Was it scary?" she asks. She rests one hand on the metal shelf separating the kitchen from the dining room and cups her mouth with the other. "Paint a bow-wow red and burn one, take it through the garden and put a rose on it! Oh, and give it shoes!"
"The hell, Josette." Chuck sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with his chubby fingers. "Just say you need a hot dog with ketchup and a burger with everything on it, to go! No one understands your diner lingo!"
She giggles and waves him off as she grabs more plates than I'll ever be able to carry, easily handing them off to eager and happy patrons. "I keep offering to give you lessons, Chuckie."
"Actually, it was kinda hot," I admit, answering Jo's question. "I didn't know I'd be so turned-on by the possessive, protector type." I shrug my shoulders and fill my cup with fountain water, taking a quick sip. "Is that weird?"
"Not at all." She stops in front of me and places her hands on my shoulders. "I read Mafia erotica. I know exactly what you mean."
I pile used silverware and dirty napkins onto empty plates and carry them into the kitchen, dropping them into the sink as I remember the way Greyson protected me in a way Will never would have. He put himself at risk when he threw the first punch, but he's repeated over and over to me that he doesn't regret a thing, and he'd do it again if the chance arose, because I'm his girl.
Just like he's my guy.
"Do you think Will is gonna press charges?" Jo asks, the minute I step back into the dining room.
