At the next table, a woman with kind eyes catches mine, lips forming a silent “Sorry” as she winces. I give the tiniest nod.
Delilah stretches her arm across the booth’s backrest. “Gideon mentioned your little startup idea the other day.” Her voice drops to a stage whisper. “Right before he asked me to pass the salt.” She examines her cuticles. “Funny how you’re still here, though.”
My knuckles whiten around the pepper packets. “And yet you found your way to my section.”
Delilah doesn’t realize her mistake. Why would she and Gideon discuss my startup? I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. For him to bring it up at all tells me he’s been keeping tabs. Ha.
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “He keeps your photo in his desk drawer, you know. Says it reminds him of...” She pauses, savoring the moment. “What not to do.”
I place each pepper packet in a perfect row, fingertips pressing them flat against the laminate. “Next time you rifle through his things, tell him I said hello.”
“Relax. I’m only here for the soup.” She lifts her arm with theatrical flair, the bowl wobbling in warning.
Before I can reply, a voice cuts across the room, sharp as a cleaver against bone.
“Stop.”
Calvin steps into view, all six-foot-two of him unfolding from the shadows by the jukebox. His jaw clenches tight enough to crack walnuts, the muscle twitching beneath stubble that catches the light. His eyes, the same whiskey-brown as Delilah’s but warmer, lock onto hers. Without a word, he captures her wrist mid-swing, fingers circling the delicate bones like a steel bracelet.
Delilah freezes, crimson flooding her face from neck to hairline, turning her designer highlights into flames. “What the hell, Calvin?” she snaps.
He doesn’t flinch. Not a single eyelash quivers. His voice is cold as the walk-in freezer, steady as the ancient ceiling fan above. “I’d control yourself, sis.”
“I was only,” Her free hand flutters.
“Don’t care,” Calvin interrupts, each syllable a door slamming shut.
“But, Calvin, I, ” Her diamond earrings catch the light as she tilts her head, deploying the pout that’s worked since childhood.
“I. Don’t. Care.” Each word lands.
Delilah stands up straight, her spine a perfect rod of indignation. Her eyes blaze with the particular fury of someone unused to being thwarted, but she doesn’t move. After a beat that stretches like warm taffy, she huffs, a sound that could wither houseplants, and yanks her arm from Calvin’s grasp. Then she throws cash on the table, including a generous tip that I’m sure she didn’t even calculate, before storming away. The bell above the door jingles, a cheerful counterpoint to her furious exit.
I exhale, feeling my shoulders drop a full inch.
“Thanks,” I murmur to Calvin, my voice barely audible over the renewed clatter of silverware as the diner comes back to life.
He gives me a slight nod, the corner of his lips pulling into a small, rare smile that transforms his face from intimidating to almost boyish. “Don’t worry. I’m looking forward to the family BBQ. You know, no Delilah.”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly like carbonation, the knot in my chest finally loosening. “Definitely no Delilah,” I say, my voice light enough to float away.
“So, speaking of the annoying little gnat,” I start, “were you spying on her while she spied on me?”
“Perhaps.”
“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that she lied to you, you know. She’s not dating Gideon. In fact, I don’t even think they’re friends anymore.”
Using his own statement against him, I say, “It doesn’t matter.”
Calvin gives me a quick, conspiratorial wink before walking out, his shoulders relaxed, hands in pockets.
The past showed up in a diner booth and tried to claw me back. I served her nothing but an empty chair.
Okay, not really, but you know what I mean.
Chapter 15
