“Yeah, can you imagine? We must have a ghost here.” My eyes widen.
“Yeah, we’re about to have one when I find out who did this. That lamp was gorgeous.” She looks down with tears in her eyes. I laugh—she’s so dramatic today—and go to sweep up the mess on the floor. I should have just cleaned it yesterday, but I was too angry and exhausted to do anything, so here we are.
Luckily, Marina drops the subject and proceeds to the kitchen to get started for the day. Soon, people are coming in. At eight, the door chimes, and a familiar figure steps inside.
“Hey, Mark!” I wave at him. He’s wearing his uniform pants with suspenders that I find super funny, but I know others find them attractive.
“Hey.” He comes to the bar and leans on it, his arms straining the short sleeves of his white T-shirt.
“You’re on duty today?”
“Yeah, and it’s my turn to buy breakfast.”
“Then you picked the right place! What can I get you?” I pull my notebook from my pocket.
"You know what, I haven't tried much here, so I'll go with your recommendations. We need to feed ten hungry men." His forehead wrinkles and he quickly corrects himself. "Well, ten men and women who have a long shift ahead of them."
“I got you.” I write down the order of five of my favorite dishes in doubles and pass it to Marina in the kitchen. Returning to Mark, I pick up the coffee pot and gesture to him. “Want this too?”
“Nah, we have coffee at the station. The chief has his ways with Donna.” He winks at me, and I laugh. I so do not want to know his ways, but also, I kind of do.
"Ah-huh," I hum and go to the fancy coffee maker, whipping up a latte for Mark. As far as I remember from our childhood, he likes his coffee bitter—it's not much of a preference, but a habit we grew up with: there weren’t many sweets in our lives before. I sprinkle cinnamon on top of a nice pile of foam and place it in front of him. “On the house. Try it.” I look at his face with anticipation.
“Looks fancy.” He eyes the drink suspiciously.
“Tastes like it, too. Try it.”
He smiles and reluctantly brings the cup to his mouth. I’m mesmerized by his lips, and not in a sexual way; all I want is for him to love this coffee. I want to repay him in little ways for his kindness toward me. His first sip is tiny, but the second is a big gulp. The foam sticks to his lips. He licks them and takes another sip. “Alright, this is good. I think you’ve ruined Donna’s coffee for me.”
“Told ya!" My smile is wide and sincere. And that's precisely when I meet Justin’s eyes through the window—with my lips stretched from ear to ear. He watches me from the outside, looking like a pissed-off God of war. The blond version of one, anyway. His nostrils are flared, his fists clenched. He slowly moves his attention to Mark, who feels his hot glare on his back. Carefully placing the mug on the table, he turns around and meets Justin’s gaze. Justin’s eyes turn into tiny, angry slits. He makes a move toward the door but stops in his tracks when he notices me jumping across the bar to grab Mark’s hand as he stands from the chair.
“Mark, no.” He tries to pull away, but my grip is firm. “Mark, chill. He’s just looking for a fight.”
“And I’m happy to give him one.” He growls, fixating his eyes on Justin.
“Not when you’re on duty, and not at the diner. We just finished renovations, for God’s sake.” I see Mark’s body expanding with an enormous inhale as his shoulders drop. He slowly returns to his seat, and only then do I drop his hand.
Justin watches the whole thing, his eyes glued to our hands. He clenches and unclenches his fists. Then, his eyes find mine, holding them for a never-ending minute. So much passes between us that I’m almost knocked down by the raw emotions behind his eyes. The raw feeling of betrayal prevails them all.
He glances at Mark one more time and strides away.
“What the fuck was that?” Mark returns my attention back to the present.
"What do you mean?" I swallow, trying to soothe the dryness in my throat. "That's just how he is around us, you know that."
“No, that was not it.” He turns back and watches the now empty window. “That was about you.”
“It’s always about you or me. Today it’s two of us in the same space, and he’s just double mad.” I shrug.
“Stop it.” Mark cuts in. “You know what I’m talking about. He wanted to take my head off for being near you.” He carefully watches my eyes. “Did something happen with the two of you?”
I look around, ensuring no one will hear what I'm about to say. "I found out why he hated me so much."
“Hated? As in past tense?” His eyes go round.
“Hates.” I sigh. “He still hates me, but for different things now. Turned out, it’s a pattern for us.”
“So?” He asks curiously.
