Little Secrets(53)
His breath caught in his throat.
“Anyway, I’m done for the day,” she said. “Thought I’d grab some lunch. Have you eaten?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know if you’re into Cuban food, but there’s an amazing little hole-in-the-wall place a few blocks away. The lines at lunchtime are insane, but they do incredible—”
“Are you talking about Fénix?”
Kenzie smiled, surprised. “You know the place? I swear their pulled pork Caribbean sandwich is life.”
“Know it? I invested in it. Let’s go.”
“Are you joking?”
“I’m a twenty-five percent equity partner.”
“Oh my god.” She stood as he packed up his computer. “Does that include all the free sandwiches you want?”
“No, I pay for those. But I never have to wait in line.” He winked, then pulled out his phone to call the restaurant as they headed for the door. “Hey, Jeremy, it’s Derek … I’m good, man, you?… Great. Let me have two Caribbeans, extra peppers, and a side of yuca fries. If there’s a free table outside, save it for me … just a small one, only two of us. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
Her shoulder rubbed against his chest as she stepped through the door of the Green Bean. She had never stood that close to him before, and she realized for the first time how much taller than her he was. And at five-ten, she’s not exactly short.
“Caribbean sandwiches and no waiting in line … I think I love you,” she said under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear, as he held the door open.
“Now wouldn’t that make me the luckiest guy in the world,” Derek said.
Spark.
That’s when Kenzie knew she had him.
Chapter 16
The apartment is quiet when Kenzie gets home from her shift at the Green Bean. Tyler’s door is shut. She presses her ear to the thin particle board and hears him snoring. She heard him come in at five this morning, right as she was getting up for work, but they didn’t speak. Getting in at that hour, she can only assume he hooked up with someone he met at the bar last night.
It’s obvious her roommate is mad at her, and she can’t blame him, not after she bailed on their Hill House marathon. They share a 700-square-foot apartment, yet they almost never see each other anymore. She misses him. And she’s lonely.
She hasn’t heard from Derek in two days.
As much as she wants to, she cannot text him. He has to text her. There are rules with married men, and they get upset when you break them.
She settles onto the sofa with a brownie she stole from the coffee shop (come on, they all steal food) and turns on the TV. Every afternoon at two p.m., if she’s home, she watches The Young and the Restless. She’s not really invested in the show’s storylines, but she used to watch it as a little girl with her grand-mère. Buford jumps up onto her lap, purring his delight at her return home, and she strokes his fur. While her cat isn’t nearly as comforting as her grandmother was, he’s pretty close.
“Why do you watch this?” she can remember asking Grand-mère when she was ten. She was confused by all the rich people, with their perfect makeup and perfect hair, who couldn’t seem to find happiness no matter what they did. “They’re always stabbing each other in the back. They’re nothing like us.”
“They’re very much like us, ma chère.” Her grandmother had motioned for her to get under the blanket, the same one she’d kept on her sofa since Kenzie was born. “The only difference is, they have money.”
“But he’s mean to her.” Kenzie pointed to the screen, where the richest man was saying something callous to the woman who was hoping to be his wife. For the second time. “He’s cruel.”
“Oh, ma petite ange.” Her grandmother pulled her in for a snuggle. “Poor men can be just as cruel. You can get your heart broken by a poor man just as easily as a rich one. We know what it’s like to be poor, oui? There’s no nobility in it. None whatsoever. When you grow up, you find yourself a rich man. You stand a better chance of survival when he leaves.”
Wherever J.R. is right now, he’s probably watching Y&R, too. Sometimes they text back and forth when it’s on. But they haven’t done that in a while. Since she met Derek, J.R. has largely pulled away. It hurts her, but she understands why.
It’s different with Derek. And for once, J.R. isn’t interfering. He used to refer to her other married boyfriends as “sad, bored sacks of money,” but with Derek, he’s largely withheld his opinion. She told J.R. about her new boyfriend a few months back, when they met for a beer in their hometown after she’d visited her mother.
“Who’s the sucker this time?” he’d asked.
When she told him Derek’s name, J.R. was shocked. “The guy who owns the company that makes those protein bars they sell at Safeway? The one whose kid went missing?”
“Same one.”
“Jesus Christ, M.K.,” he said. Everybody in town called him J.R., but he was the only one in the world who called her M.K., and secretly, she’d always loved it. “It’s one thing to scam a dude like Paul—guy was a douchebag from the start, whatever, who gives a shit—but the guy with the missing kid? That’s…”