Page 18 of The Unlucky Waitress

Ethan hands me the bunch of flowers and takes my bag off my shoulder while I stand confused. I look at him all dressed up in a fitted gray suit and crisp white shirt, the top buttons are open just enough to show the top of his hairless chest.

“I- I’m a mess,” I stammer, fighting to hold back a fresh stream of tears.

“You look gorgeous,” he smiles and ushers me into the limo with his arm around the small of my back. “You can tell me about your day on the way.”

I sit in the back and take it all in, squirming uncomfortably. I feel out of place and anxious about where we’re going. I smell the flowers and try to relax into the warm leather seats.

“Tell me what happened,” Ethan says, sliding in next to me with his thigh firmly pressed against mine.

“First it was the rain,” I sigh. “I always walk to work, but it was raining today and just when I thought I had made it there relatively dry, a car drove past and sprayed water all over my pants.”

I look over to see Ethan staring at me, completely engrossed in my story. I relax a little more and continue.

“Then the club was short staffed and busier than I had ever seen it. I could hardly even take a break,” I explain. His attention is still fully on me.

“And that’s when the thing with the pasta happened?” he asks.

“Yes,” I laugh, describing the tall, blonde woman and how loud she had been through the night.

I notice his hand gently placed on my leg as I describe how she tried to dab the sauce off my shirt, pressing it into me.

“I’m really sorry you had such a rough day,” he smiles. A gentle comforting smile. “I hope this will make up for it.”

The limo stops and through the tinted windows I can barely see where we are. The anxiety of being under-dressed resurfaces.

What was I thinking agreeing to go anywhere dressed like this? With a stained shirt nonetheless.

“I really don’t think I’m dressed for this,” I say.

“Nevermind that. You’ll be fine, I promise,” he says, climbing out of the limo.

I sit alone in the dark, sealed off cabin of the limo and wait for what feels like hours for Ethan to make his way around to open my door.

I climb out to see the locked door of my favorite bakery and my excitement quickly turns to disappointment as I realize it’s closed.

“Thank you for trying. It was a really kind gesture. I appreciate it,” I say, turning back to the limo.

Ethan grabs my hand and turns me back around. I gasp, equally surprised and confused.

“As you get to know me, my dear, you’ll learn. I don’t try,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

I stare at him blankly and listen as he speaks to the groggy bakery owner, persuading her to reopen the shop, just for him.

He walks a few paces away from me to continue his negotiation and turns back with a bright smile.

I stare at him in wonder. “What did you say?” I ask.

“I got them to open the bakery,” he winks.

An elderly couple walk toward us and smile. The old man shakes Ethans hand as the old woman opens the door to let us in.

“I really hope we aren’t causing too much trouble for you. We could come back another time,” I apologize.

The old woman smiles kindly. “I know you. You come here often,” she says. “It’s no trouble at all. We’re both suckers for a good love story,” she winks.

I blush. A love story? I had no idea what to call all these dates between Ethan and I, but I couldn’t correct her. I wouldn’t know where to start.

We sit down in a corner of the bakery with a small candle on the table. The elderly couple bustle about preparing our coffee and bring it over with two generous slices of key lime pie.

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