Waiting for a Girl Like You Read online

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  Alex sunk down on the toilet and covered her face with her hands. Not only was she Typhoid Mary, spreading marital distress and immune to Mr. Right, she was immune to all single men.

  This was so pathetic and melodramatic it was Byronic. She was an Eliot scholar. Alex pulled herself up and brushed her hands through her hair. Right now, the best thing for her was to be single and learn to do that well. Which meant leaving the bathroom and facing people. No problem. Before she left, she checked herself in the mirror. Calm exterior. No odd coloration or facial tics. The picture perfect waitress who was not having a nervous breakdown.

  “Alex, where have you been?” Ida was in the kitchen when she came through from dropping her purse in her locker. Very bad sign. Ida never came in the kitchen. She ran the dining room and left the kitchen to Paul. “You have three new tables and they all look like they’re ready to order.”

  “Stop it, you old bat. Leave her alone.” Paul banged a plate into the serving window. Paul was scowling at the food. Also a bad sign.

  Ida stared at Paul for a beat and then turned to Alex, her frown melting as she did. “All right, sweetie, can you hurry on out and take care of those tables?”

  Okay, so maybe the nervous breakdown was visible. “I just had to go to the bathroom. I washed my hands.” Alex held up her hands, which reminded her that she had not, in fact, washed when she was in the bathroom.

  “You know the rule,” Paul said, giving her uncharacteristic doe eyes. “You wash in my sink before you handle my food.”

  Ida nodded, pouching out her lip and, dear Lord, blinking back tears.

  They were both acting more like critical care nurses than the drill sergeants they were. She should ask what the hell was going on, but the answer wasn’t going to benefit her, so she went to wash her hands in the kitchen sink before heading out to the dining room. Every time Ida came near, she patted Alex’s arm. Paul didn’t even snarl when she dropped a plate on the floor, requiring him to remake the meal. Tina and Drew kept looking at her funny every time she bumped into them. How miserable.

  As soon as her shift was over, she ran back to Angela’s house, changed into her dowdiest clothes, left her phone behind, and made it back to the square just in time to catch the World War II tour to Dolly Sods. Surrounded by tourists who didn’t know anything about her sordid past or her recent mess, she wouldn’t have to think about any of it. Just her and rocks and wildflowers and the occasional mortar shell.

  * * * *

  “You,” Ida snarled. The customer who had been in the middle of paying his bill flinched. “No, not you. Him.” Ida pointed one of her long, and today neon green, fingernails at Marc. Sorta like being nailed to the wall.

  “What did I do?” Getting a working demo of a new song was always a high, but the high was wearing off fast. First, Alex wasn’t at her house or answering her phone. Then, Angela and Finn didn’t know why Alex wasn’t home, where she went, or why she wouldn’t be answering her phone. Now, the attitude from Ida. Awesome.

  “Where have you been?”

  The customer shoved his money across the counter and hurried out. Every other diner appeared to take this as the floorshow. Super awesome.

  “I was working. Do you know where Alex is?”

  “Probably at home crying her eyes out.” Ida slammed the cash drawer closed, hard enough to push the whole thing within millimeters of the edge of the counter.

  “I tried there, but she wasn’t home.”

  “Are you sure?” Ida planted her fists on her hips. “Maybe she just didn’t want to open the door to you.”

  “It’s a possibility. I didn’t go around peeking in the windows.” Though when he stopped at Finn’s office to inquire, Angela had offered him the keys, so he could have checked the closets if he’d wanted. “Why? Was she upset when she left here?”

  “You!”

  Marc spun around. Paul was standing in the kitchen doorway pointing a carving fork at him. “How could you?”

  “Paul, we been through this. Weren’t you listening?” Ida snapped.

  “I just saw he was here. What did I miss?” Paul lowered the fork.

  “This is better than the soaps,” one of the women in the booth behind Marc said to her friend.

  “Wait a minute.” Marc put up a hand. It was bad enough having his personal life discussed on the Internet. He had no desire to become dinner theater, too. He headed for the kitchen, and both Ida and Paul followed him. No one in the dining room moved except a couple of little kids who munched on fries and chicken tenders as they watched. “Okay, was Alex upset that I didn’t show up today?”

  Paul and Ida glanced at each other. Ida, consummate performer that she was, had framed herself in the service window so the audience could still enjoy their private conversation. Paul, Marc noticed, had not gotten into frame, and by the look on his face, it was only because he was so flustered. Crap. Alex was mad and, if he guessed right, she was the icy quiet type who could reduce a man to splinters with a well-phrased remark. If he’d told Jason to hang on long enough to send her a text to let her know he was going to be late, all this could have been averted.

  “Well, not as much as you’d notice,” Ida said. “But we know her, and she was broken up.”

  Drew leaned in from the side door. “What’s going on?”

  “Drew, was Alex upset before she left?” Marc asked.

  “Not weepy upset. She looked pissed to me, and she just kept getting more and more pissed.” Drew rolled his eyes. “Especially when she dropped that plate, and you didn’t say anything.”

  “It was an accident,” Paul said. “I understood.”

  “Just like you always do.”

  “Boys!” Ida glared at them. “This is beside the point. Marc, you stood Alex up and that is just unacceptable.”

  “I didn’t stand her up.”

  “You weren’t supposed to meet her here today after her shift?” Paul asked. “Why? She’s perfect for you.”

  “I said I would try, but I didn’t make any promises.” He had woken up early this morning smiling because he was going to see her. He would have been pacing around waiting until it was time to go if he hadn’t had a good book to read. He might have even left early to pick her up.

  He needed to call Suzi and tell her she was screwing up his love life.

  “Last night we just left it at maybe.”

  “But she is perfect for you,” Paul wailed.

  “Will you stop saying that?” Marc rubbed his forehead. “Did it ever occur to you that she’s not into me?”

  “No,” Drew said. Ida and Paul both turned on him. He looked at both of them for a second before ducking outside.

  “Now, Marc, why wouldn’t she be sweet on you?” Ida patted his arm.

  “Don’t you think if she was, she’d be someplace I could find her? I was only a little late.”

  “Two hours past her shift.” Ida glanced through the service window at the sound of the front door bell and hurried out to deal with the new customers.

  “Why don’t you ask Angela where she went?” Paul asked.

  “I already did. She doesn’t know.” Marc shrugged. Somewhere out there Alex was either suicidal that he’d stood her up or plotting his murder. His gut lurched. Damn it, a girl he liked, who wasn’t into him for his money or connections, and he’d whiffed it by assuming she’d run on his schedule like the self-centered bastard he was. “It’s okay. Doesn’t matter. I’ll send her a text. She doesn’t have to answer it.” Easy out for her. Less painful for both.

  “Marc, don’t give up so easily,” Paul said.

  “Order up!” Drew shouted from the side door. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were still in here. Order up, Paul.”

  Business resumed as usual before Marc had made it to the front door. Last night she’d seemed perfect, but this disappearing act either meant she didn’t like him or she was playing hard to get. If she didn�
��t like him, fine, lots of other people did. If she was playing games, he didn’t like her. Nothing turned him off faster than a game player. Dez spent most of their relationship making him prove how much he loved her, and that was never going to happen again. Marc stopped at the driver’s side door to check the street. People wandered around town like any other day. Blue skies and sunshine. He climbed in to head back up the mountain.

  At Jason’s house, Marc listened to the new demo again. It was good. Really good.

  Good enough to have lost Alex because he was too busy working to meet her?

  Work came first. Work always came first. Nobody got to the top without making a few sacrifices. Plus, if Alex was one of those high maintenance chicks who couldn’t take a little delay then she wasn’t going to be able to deal with his life. Suzi said being in a relationship with a rock star was like being trapped in a doctor’s office trying to get your seven minutes.

  Suzi. If he hadn’t been reading her goddamn book, he would have left early and not gotten sucked into working with Jason.

  Snatching up his phone, he called her.

  “Hello?”

  “You are ruining my life.”

  “I’m sorry. How am I managing that from this distance?” Something clicked on her end. It sounded like her laptop. Suzi was never far from it and she must have closed it. Hopefully that was the case. Then she’d be listening.

  “I was reading your book and was late to meet someone.”

  “So you like it?”

  “Of course I like it, but it ruined my life.”

  “This person didn’t wait when you were a few minutes late, or was my book so gripping that you totally lost track of time and were hours late? This is very important for marketing purposes.”

  Marc inspected his fingernails. Alex had seemed to like him last night. Why hadn’t she waited? Okay, two hours was pretty late, but she hadn’t tried to text him either. “I was two hours late.”

  “Really? I’m flattered. Can I use that quote on my website?”

  Marc rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

  Her computer opened. “So what’s her name?”

  “Alex. How did you know it was a woman?”

  “If it was a man, you’d have called Bear.” Keys clicked. In seconds, half the planet was going to think he’d been so engrossed in her book that he’d been two hours late for a date. Good for her sales at least. “So tell me about her.”

  “She’s okay I guess.”

  “Right. Which explains you calling me to whine. Did you try calling her?”

  “No answer.” Marc stretched out on the couch. It gave him a good vantage to study Cassie’s infamous shotgun over the fireplace. It must be nice to have someone love you that much. He’d been under the impression that Dez did, but she had just been very good at playing her games.

  “Text?” The computer closed again. Once more he had her undivided attention.

  “Yeah. I was hoping it would be non-committal. If she’s not interested, she doesn’t have to respond.”

  “I need a backtrack. When did you meet her?”

  “Couple of days ago at the diner.”

  “Oh, Alex the waitress, right?”

  “How do you know?”

  “Cassie told me that Ida said she had a waitress working this summer who she thought would be good for you. Witty, tall, skinny, dark hair, some deep dark secret in her recent past.” Suzi sipped something. “You know, if she has recent baggage you’re going to have to work a little harder. That is, if you really want her.”

  I do. “Maybe. What are you thinking?”

  “Without knowing what the deep, dark baggage is, I’d say just remain available and laid back. Kind of like you’re trying to coax a deer to eat out of your hand. It’s not going to be easy. This woman is not going to throw herself at you.”

  A deer? Great. The last time he’d been patient with a woman it had ended in divorce. But Alex wasn’t Dez. “Okay, so I screwed up today and didn’t meet her like I was supposed to, but I called and I texted. What’s the next big move?”

  “If it was my story, I’d have the hero arrange to bump into her so he could explain his boorish behavior and open up the possibility of another meeting. She’s working at the diner. Are you going to be hungry tomorrow?”

  “Oh, God, I forgot you were writing romances now, too.”

  “I don’t tell you about those. They sell well.”

  “Better than the horror?”

  “Hands down.”

  “So I need to ‘bump into’ Alex tomorrow and explain why I was late.”

  “Feel free to tell her you were reading a fantastic new book by Suzette Miranda Bazian. Say it really loud so neighboring diners can hear.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that. Thanks.”

  “If I’m going to ruin your life, I should attempt to fix it.” Suzi coughed. “Um, before you go, do you know a groupie named Gillian Rosetti?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “She’s been following Savitar this tour. Logan says he won’t do anything with her or with any of them, but this Gillian girl has been really aggressive. She scares me a little.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Suz. Groupies are a job hazard. You’re either going to have to learn to accept groupies or get him into a TV show to keep him occupied. We did House last tour. It kept us busy and out of trouble except for Ty deciding he was dying every other day.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  “If you’re bored, you can come here to Jason’s and help me fix the problem you caused.”

  “That would go over great. ‘Hi, I’m Suzi. I’m here to facilitate you falling in love with Marc. Let me tell you the features and drawbacks of being with a rock star.’”

  “On second thought.”

  She was so fun. Why couldn’t he find a girl just like Suzi?

  “I knew it. Good luck with your girl. Remember, coaxing a deer to eat out of your hand.”

  “Great. You know how patient I am.” He hung up the phone. Shoot, he should have asked Suzi what the difference was between a woman being nervous and a woman playing games.

  Chapter 3

  Alex rolled over. She’d slept as much as she could stand. Eventually, she had to face a world that thought she should be destroyed over the loss of a man. A man she never had in the first place. A man she wasn’t sure she wanted or deserved in the first place. Sure, he was good looking, well built, intelligent, fun to be around.

  Angela peeked through the sliver of the door that she’d opened with an exaggerated pout. “I’m so sorry.”

  Ah, yes, this was why she’d come back from Dolly Sods and set off on the next bus for the stargazing trip in a different part of the park. To avoid Angela’s unwarranted pity. Angela, who should have been at the office by now. Alex glanced at her alarm clock. Ten-thirty. Yup, Angela should have been at long gone. “About what?”

  “Marc. I heard he stood you up yesterday.” She pushed the door open the rest of the way and the scent of bacon and eggs wafted through the door. “I thought I would make you breakfast.”

  Alex’s stomach clenched. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m sure. Can you try to eat something?”

  Nausea rolled up her throat into her nose with a buzzing sensation. Maybe these were the symptoms she had from her weird matrimonial illness. She’d never been one of those girls who planned and re-planned their marriage from the age of six, but here she was, somehow buying into the belief that she wasn’t a valid human unless she was married and every relationship had to have that as its logical end. Not every pair bond ended up married. Sometimes they married and it ended badly. Sometimes they just had fun for a while and drifted apart.

  Sometimes they chose to live in some weird state of celibacy while trying to match up everyone within sight.

  Dear God, she was going to end up like Ida and Paul.

  Alex threw off the covers. “Suddenly,
I’m starved.”

  Within one egg and half a sausage, Alex was back to fighting with herself about whether she’d done something to turn Marc off, and if she wanted him, or any man, in her life right now.

  “I need to be finishing up my thesis and getting into a doctoral program.” She shook her fork to bring the point home. “That’s what’s important.”

  “Is that what you plan to do? Get a doctorate? I thought you wanted to work for a magazine.”

  Alex opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Here she was sitting at a table in her cousin’s house wondering what she planned to do with her life. High school summer vacations all over again. “Well, that was a long time ago. Things change.”

  “I remember when we were kids, we used to put together our own magazine when you came to visit Gramma and Papaw in the summers.” Angela poured her a big glass of orange juice. “Davey Wegman used to draw all the pictures for us, and you wrote the articles, and I sold advertising.”

  “Sold? I seem to remember trading Lou at the diner for cookies and Ben at the post office for rides around town in the post office truck.”

  “I convinced Miss Hall to let us use the library copier to print our magazine.”

  “Where is Davey now?”

  “He’s an art teacher in Cincinnati.”

  “Oh, good. He was an excellent artist.”

  “So what changed your mind about working at a magazine?”

  Roger. Roger changed her mind. In British Writers, Early and Modern. “I don’t know. Just changed my mind.”

  “But you could still go work for a magazine.”

  Alex shrugged. “I guess.” Ugh, school. One year to finish the master’s, two for the doctorate to spend the rest of her life teaching British Writers, Modern and Early. Publish or perish. Reliving her own mistakes every single semester in an endless loop.

  “You just don’t seem very happy about going to school anymore.”