Page 50 of Best Served Cold

“You owe me some of those car cookies,” he says.

“They’re stale by now.”

Plus, Otis and I ate them all while watchingGolden Girlsreruns. It was Aunt Penny’s favorite show, and both of us used to complain about it, but I guess we kind of miss her, because we turned it on by mutual agreement.

“Maybe I like stale love cookies…"

Uh…what? Is he flirting?

I’m about to respond, but my words dry up, because Jonah just walked in through the front door. I haven’t seen him in person since that night at The Ginger Station, and now he’s here. Carrying a flipping boom box. Where did he even get it?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SOPHIE

I slip out from behind the bar and shove my way through the crowd, getting to Jonah just as he reaches for the play button.

I grab his hand, and he meets my gaze. For a second I feel the pull of the story I used to tell myself. It was a fairy tale, made of spun sugar, about this man saving me and making me respectable. About him loving me enough to make up for all the people who didn’t.

It puts a knot in my throat, but I choke it down like the poison I know it to be.

“What are you doing?” I hiss.

Several people are gawking at us, but there’s no sign of Briar or Hannah or Dottie.

I can feel Rob staring at us from his place at the bar. So I glance over at him. His eyes burn into me as he cocks his head:Say the word, and I’ll punch him again.

“I’m going to serenade you,” Jonah says, recapturing my attention. “The song from thatTen Thingsmovie you love. I want to show you that I’m willing to embarrass myself for you. Anything to get you to hear me out.”

I feel a twist in my stomach. He’s being manipulative. If I don’t hear him out, he’s willing to embarrass both of us.

“Hey,” I hear someone whisper to a friend. “Isn’t that the guy with the STDs?”

“Should we warn her?” the friend responds.

Jonah’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t move from his position, standing right inside the doorway, where people will need to squeeze around him. This feels like a statement too.I will embarrass and inconvenience you at work.

“Come with me,” I say, my voice hoarse. Part of me hates myself for giving him what he wants, even if it’s just a chance for me to tell him in more detail how deeply I resent him, but I can’t let him serenade me in here. Sure, it would be more embarrassing for him, but it would still be a spectacle. It would be something people talk about for weeks, months, maybe even years, and I’ve already been a spectacle once in my life, and maybe a half spectacle last weekend with the wedding dress.

I lead him to the booth abandoned by my friends, who left enough of their stuff that their seats have not yet been commandeered by anyone else.

His posture stiffens, possibly because he recognizes their handbags, but he sits and sets the boom box on the tabletop, as if it’s a perfectly usual thing for a person to have as an accessory.

“You’re the type of person who forgives other people for making mistakes,” he says.

Anger flares inside of me, so much of it I’m surprised my hair doesn’t spontaneously turn the color of Hannah’s.

“You don’t get to tell me who I am.”

Surprise flickers in his eyes, but he regains control of his expression quickly. “You’ve been different lately. I know it’s my fault. But I need you to understand that nothing happened with those women except inappropriate flirting. I was having cold feet, I’ll admit to that, but now I realize how stupid I was to jeopardize our future. Sophie, you’re the perfect wife for me. You?—”

Jonah cuts off abruptly at the sound of someone approaching. He glances toward the noise and tenses his jaw.

“You were saying?” Rob says conversationally, leaning against my side of the booth. He’s holding the drink I made him. His body language is relaxed, bored almost, but something fierce is flashing in his eyes. I’m glad for it. I’m glad for him, being here, joining his strength with mine. I can practically feel it pulsing from him. I truly must be spending too much time with Dottie and Briar, because his energy feels friendly. Warm. Supportive.

“Don’t let me interrupt you, man,” Rob says, waving his glass. “You seemed really impassioned. It was just getting interesting. There are a few other people behind you who also want to see where you’re going with this, right, guys?”

I peer over my shoulder and see a teenager’s face raised over the back of my booth, but he disappears the instant our eyes meet, like a groundhog fleeing his shadow.

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