Page 95 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
Tonight, I let myself forget what I did…
Never again.
HADLEY
My first week as a waitress goes by in a flash.
By the time my day off rolls around, I’m exhausted in every sense of the word. All in all, I like working at Sandy’s, but Ania, my coworker and the lady training me, just might be my least favorite part about the job.
She expects absolutely nothing short of perfection, despite the fact that I’d never waitressed in my life less than a week ago. I’m a fast learner, sure, but I’m still a human being.
She seems to assume that because she’s shown me how to do something once, I won’t have any questions or require her assistance with it ever again.
Having Jamie around does help balance out the bad, though. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure I would’ve made it through my first week.
She reminds Ania to take a chill pill whenever she goes off on me for not mastering every part of the job. Even my boss had to say something. I just might have to ask him if Jamie can train me instead.
Lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling and reflect on all that’s happened since I moved in.
From eavesdropping on Kane and his sober sponsor in the bathroom, reconnecting with my childhood friends, to waking up alone in Kane’s bed the morning after Vince’s party. It’s been an eventful first week, to say the least.
It must’ve taken me a solid forty-eight hours to even look Kane in the eyes after I threw up all over his expensive shoes.
There was something particularly vulnerable about waking up in his bed half naked and realizing I was wearing his clothes—well, technically, I was wearing his T-shirt and my panties.
Apparently, drunk me got hot halfway through the night and thought it would be a good idea to strip.
I wish I could say I didn’t remember a thing when I woke up. That the booze wiped my memory clean, but the truth is I remembered every embarrassing moment.
Every nice thing Kane did when I had my head in the toilet. How attentive he was to my every need. The way he held my hair while I was puking.
I even remember backing up into him, his hands clutching my body as he pulled me in, the warmth of his chest on my back.
God, I’m such an idiot.
Kane was nowhere around when I woke up, so I did what any sane, mortified person would do. I grabbed my clothes off the floor, threw them on, and ran to my bedroom before Kane came back.
We haven’t said a word to each other since.
I considered thanking him for taking care of me—once the initial humiliation wore off—but he’s been treating me like I’m see-through ever since that night.
There has been no more intense staring at breakfast, no more conversations in the backyard, and definitely no more cuddling. He went from tucking me into bed and holding me until I fell asleep to leaving the room as soon as I walk in.
It’s getting to be a running gag around here.
Everyone, and I mean everyone in the house, has noticed. Scar even made a joke out of it. Something along the lines of “Legend has it these two have never been seen in the same room.”
Normally, I’d be annoyed.
After all, I told him I wouldn’t tolerate him treating me like I carry a deadly virus, but I was so exhausted from trying to meet Ania’s expectations all week, all I wanted to do was crash into bed when I got home.
On the bright side, Kane ignoring me ensures that I’ll continue to see him for who he really is rather than the nice, hold-your-hair-back-while-you’re-sick version of him.
I refuse to even entertain the idea that he might be a good person.
He looked me in the eyes and told me he’d never cared about me. One decent gesture doesn’t change the fact that his insides are so rotten his heart is probably coal black.
I decide I should probably get out of bed a half hour later. I need a shower, for starters. I was so tired last night I fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow.