Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(81)

I doubt I can manage it in my current mental state, but if I fail the first time, there’s always the next.

Unless I happen to fall for another dangerous stranger in the meantime and ruin my life again.

I call Buddy and tell him I’m coming back to work. He says miserably, “Yes, dear,” as if he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. For whatever bizarre reason, that makes me grimly happy.

When I show up at the diner, the first person I see is Carla. She does a double-take when I walk through the door, instantly abandons the customer she’d been taking a food order from, and rushes across the restaurant to grab me in a frantic hug.

“Jesus Christ on a cracker, you look like a litter box that hasn’t been cleaned in a year! I’m so glad to see you! I’ve been so worried about you! Are you okay? Because you don’t look okay, you look like death, and oh my god,” her voice rises, “I can’t believe you were living with a gangster!”

When she finally stops for a breath, I break away from her, feeling a thousand years old.

“Thanks for letting the entire restaurant know about my romantic entanglements. It’s good to see you, too. I appreciate the inspiring words about my appearance. And yes, I’m okay.”

To the old guy openly eavesdropping from the table we’re standing next to, I say, “Sir, mind your business.”

He shrugs, turning his attention back to his pastrami on rye. “I was here first.”

I mutter, “Let’s take this into the back.”

I head through the dining room with Carla on my heels, peppering me with questions and begging forgiveness for not calling me after my graduation dinner. I was right: Dave put the kibosh on that.

Goddamn bossy men. I should start a women’s group for survivors of alpha males. There are probably millions of us worldwide, nursing bruised hopes, hearts, and uteruses.

When we get to the kitchen, Diego’s at the grill, flipping burgers. For some reason, he doesn’t seem surprised to see me.

“You’re back.” He flashes his white teeth in a smile.

“I am.”

I stand there awkwardly, painfully self-conscious in my uniform, more aware of my body in clothes than I was at Liam’s when I spent my days wearing his dress shirt and nothing else.

“I’d give you a hug, but I’m all greasy.” Diego flips a patty, sending a splatter of fat flying onto the front of his white apron, then glances over at me. “You good?”

“Never better,” I lie. “You?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Same.”

He’s acting strangely nonchalant for someone who threatened murder the last time we spoke. Then again, his mood swings would give mine a run for their money, so I dismiss the thought and continue walking to the break room. Carla clings to me like a baby monkey riding on its mother’s back.

I shut the door behind us and fall into the nearest plastic chair, then wince in pain. I’d forgotten how hideously uncomfortable they are.

Carla pulls up another chair, sits down so close our knees touch, and grabs my hands like she’s about to lead us in prayer.

“Girl,” she says, all out of breath. “Liam Black?”

She waits with wide eyes for me to start talking.

I get choked up instead. My face scrunches up, and my voice comes out strangled. “Don’t say his stupid name. I hate him.”

Her voice is bone dry. “Oh, yeah, I can tell. That weepy face has hate written all over it.”

I sniffle, struggling not to give in to the tears pushing against the backs of my eyeballs. In an attempt to avoid telling the story and possibly bursting into sobs, I say, “What did Dave tell you about him?”

“Only that he was the East Coast’s biggest, baddest mafia dude, and I was not to have any contact with you while you were involved with him. Obviously, I won’t be telling him you’re back at work.”

“You don’t have to lie to your husband for me.”

“It’s not for you, dimwit, it’s for me. I like this job. Besides, what the man doesn’t know won’t kill him.” She squeezes my hands. “But if he happens to come in when you’re working, even if it’s a year from now, let’s just pretend it’s your first night back.”

I say mournfully, “Oh, the tangled webs we weave.”

Carla scoffs. “Stop it already. Marriage is an institution built on white lies and denial. If husbands and wives started telling each other the truth all the time, the whole system would implode. Tell me what happened since your graduation dinner.”

I take a deep breath, exhale, and close my eyes. Then I tell her everything since that night, not leaving anything out.

At the end of it, I’m emotionally wrung dry, but relieved to get it all off my chest. Look at me, doing the girlie sharing thing. Ellie would be so proud.

But then something odd occurs to me.

The night of my graduation dinner, I had no idea Liam owned the restaurant where we dined. I had no idea he’d be kidnapping me from the kitchen, either. Carla and Dave left before Diego and I did, and I haven’t spoken to her since. So…

“How did you know I was living with Liam?”

Carla shoots a surreptitious glance over her shoulder and lowers her voice. “Diego told me.”

I frown, trying to recall what I told Diego about my situation with Liam on our phone call.