Page 21 of Jesse's Girl
“Right.” I scoff. “Like I actually helped you.” I’ve been a total boat anchor and we both know it.
“Oh, I learned a lot,” he says, putting on an innocent air. “Undoing buttons? Rolling up sleeves? You gave me a real masterclass in slutting it up.”
I snort, unable to suppress the laugh that fights its way out. “That wasn’t what I was trying to?—”
“Right, right, right,” he says quickly, nodding.
I narrow my eyes. “Just get dressed, dumbass.”
Giving me a crooked smile, he backs into the fitting room and closes the door.
Riverside Deli is packed. We order subs and wedge ourselves into the corner by the window, perching on two high stools. Loud chatter surrounds us as the patrons talk over the ambient hum of refrigerators and the clatter of dishes. For the moment, the noise drowns out my problematic thoughts about Jesse—the noise and the smell of my toasted turkey sub. Suddenly ravenous, I peel open the wrapper.
“Marcus told me about this place.” He unwraps his and takes a huge bite. A sliced pickle falls out. “Oh, my God. Amazing,” he mumbles around his mouthful.
I smile and take a bite of my own sandwich. It’s sloppy with mayo and Italian dressing. Some splats out onto the wrapper as I hover over it. The flavors hit me, and I make a little sound of relief—almost a moan.
Jesse laughs, his voice muffled as he chews. “That good?”
“So fucking good.” I hold a hand in front of my mouth, trying not to be gross about it. The top of the bun slides around precariously under my fingers and I readjust my grip, furrowing my brow as the sauce slips between my knuckles. I take another bite.
“This beats shopping,” Jesse says between bites.
“Right?”
We eat without speaking for a few moments.
“So, how long do you think you’ll be in town?” I ask. “Marcus mentioned another few weeks at least?”
He takes a thoughtful breath. “Yeah, that’s what the doctors tell me. Trying to figure out a plan, you know?”
“And?” I lick dressing off my finger, cursing the delicious mess.
Jesse’s silent for a moment. When I turn to face him, he jolts slightly, as if shaking off a momentary trance. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Uh, well, my mom’s doing better all the time, which is great, but she’s still going to need help once she goes home. And, at this point, I’ve pretty much given up on making it to Thailand.”
“So… you gonna just stick around and see how it goes?” I use my pinky to coax a napkin off the counter, nudging it toward me to try to contain the chaos.
“Think I have to. Claire can’t really help that much, between her job and the kids and living an hour away. Plus, her husband’s out of town for work a lot. So I guess it’s on me. I mean, I do have two months off work—I’m technically available. Just didn’t think I’d be…” He trails off, looking out the window at the busy street.
“Here?”
He turns to me with a thoughtful expression. “Yeah.”
“Well, Lennox Valley is certainly a far fucking cry from Bangkok.” I take another bite.
“Yeah? Have you been?”
“Once,” I mumble around my mouthful. “About three years ago? I traveled through Asia before I went to Europe.”
“Oh, yeah. Marcus was telling me. You’ve really gotten around, huh?”
I arch a brow in acknowledgment as I chew. “Europe was my favorite. I spent a few months with extended family in Italy, then traveled around a bit. Went to all the art galleries I could find, worked a bunch…”
“Is that where you learned to bartend?”
“In Ireland, yeah.” I nod.
“You’re good at it. From what I’ve seen, I mean. Do you like it?”