Take Two (The Jilted Bride #1)(45)

“Why are you going through with it then? Why can’t you just back out?”

“It’s complicated. Believe me, I’ve tried breaking things off with Selena but she…I signed a contract with the OWN network, a very unforgiving one.”

“And you can’t buy your way out of it?”

“Not exactly. There’s more than money attached to this wedding.”

“Oh,” I spread cream cheese across my bagel. I didn’t want to ask any more questions. He didn’t owe me anything, and we technically didn’t even know each other that well. All of a sudden I wanted him to leave.

I felt him rubbing my shoulders and immediately changed my mind.

He whispered in my ear, “When can I come over again?”

Jen sat down and slid me a beer. “Mel, you’re glowing! Did you guys do it? Was it good?”

“Really Jen? I’m fine. Thanks for asking. What’s up with your shirt?”

“You like?” she looked down at her chest. “I made it myself. I really should’ve majored in art.”

In bright blue and red letters were the words, “Eff My Thesis, Let’s Drink!” Below the words was a picture of a large martini glass with a pencil hanging out of it.

“You’re really not going to tell me about Matt Sterling?”

I changed the subject again, watching her squirm in anticipation of an answer.

“Tell me!” she beat her hands on the table like a toddler. “Tell me right now!”

“We did it,” I laughed. “We also watched movies and cooked way before that even happened.”

“He cooked for you? Aw! That’s sweet! I’m so jealous, Mel!”

“Don’t be. I think it’s just a fling. I’m sure it won’t last long.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about the Selena Ross thing. I think I’m just using him as a deflection from Sean.”

“Oh my god, shut up! Just go with the flow. Stop thinking so much.”

“Go with the flow?”

“Yes! He likes you, you like him. No big deal. I understand you’re not completely over Sean, but I think dating Matt is helping you get over him.”

“You sure you’re the little sister?”

“Not at all,” she took my beer and chugged it. “When are you seeing him again?”

“I’m not sure. I told him I would let him know later this week. If I have time Saturday I might ask him to come over.”

“Do I even want to know what lame activity you’re doing on Saturday? What’s so important that you can’t hang out with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jen. And I thought you and me were going to Coney Island.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Can I use your phone for a second?”

“Sure,” I handed it to her. “I have to run to the restroom.”

I splashed my face with water and looked in the mirror. Jen was right. I was glowing.

I wanted to call Matt before coming to the bar, to see how his day was going, but I didn’t want him to know I was thinking about him.

I slid back into our booth and noticed Jen had ordered four more drinks.

“I have to work tomorrow, Jen. I can’t drink all night.”

“Only one of these is for you,” she scoffed. “I’m taking advantage of you paying. Oh, and I texted your boyfriend for you. You can thank me later.”

“Jen!” I snatched my phone from her. “What did you text him?”

“That you’re head over heels in love with him and that you can’t wait to do it again.”

“Okay. Those were your last drinks of the night.”

My phone vibrated. A text from Matt: “I was thinking about you too. This Saturday works just fine. I’ll have to pick you up really early though. Can’t wait. Call you later :-)”

Matt shook me awake. “Wake up. We’re here.”

I sat up and looked out my window. There was nothing but a gas station with two pumps and a small dusty building that read “T&M’s.”

“Where are we?”

“This is the diner where my dad used to work. The owner said we could help open up today.”

“Who’s the owner?”

“Me,” he shook a set of keys.

“You don’t think the paparazzi are going to show up?”

“I doubt it. We’re technically in the middle of nowhere. Some truckers might ask to take pictures with me but that’s about it.”

I followed him inside the small café. Despite the drab exterior, the inside was bright and cheery. The checkered floor shone underneath yellow halogen lights, bright red bar stools with silver metal legs sat up against the bar, and each of the tables was set with fresh cut flowers.

“Why are you sitting down?” he planted a kiss on my forehead.

“I’m watching you open up the diner.”

“I don’t think so. You’re going to help.”

“You know I don’t—”

“You can always learn,” he slid me a box of syrup dispensers. “We’ll start with the basics. Put one of those on each table and make sure they’re all filled.”