Page 11

Declan
I’m notNora’s favorite Gilroy. That honor belongs to my brother.
Patrick is a very close second.
These days, I think she might even like Henley more than she likes me.
Like every other shitty thing in my life, it’s my own fault.
Shit got fucked up a long time ago and even though I’ve spent the last eight years trying to make it right, I’m still paying for it.
And it’s nothing less than I deserve.
“Hey, Nora—is the booth open?” I say when I get to the hostess station. No one grumbles behind me. No one complains. Sometimes being the size of a Yeti has its advantages.
Unfortunately, Nora is not nearly as intimidated.
Nora flicks narrowed eyes at me before refocusing on her podium. “Audrey’s back there, workin’ her way through the menu.”
Audrey.
That’s what she calls Tess.
“She alone?” A month ago, the question wouldn’t have been worth asking. Tess was never alone. She and Conner were joined at the hip. The fact that they practically lived in each other’s back pockets made it easier to do the right thing. Keep my distance. Stay away from her. Then Henley came home and changed everything.
Her mouth tightens slightly when she looks at me, like she’s got something to say but doesn’t want to let it loose. “There’s room at the count—”
That means yes.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m halfway across the room, weaving my way between tables and chairs, Nora calling after me that I need to wait my turn. What she really means is that I need to stay away from Tess.
Too bad I can’t.
When I get to the table, Tess is alone—the table in front of her littered with plates—working her way through a stack of pancakes.
“If you came here to apologize again, be prepared to leave with a fork stuck in your neck,” she says, using said fork to spear a neatly cut square of pancake.
“I came here to eat.” I’m not sure what I meant to say, but I know that wasn’t it.
“I’m gonna be a while.” She cocks her head and looks up at me, one of her slim, dark brows cocked slightly higher than the other. “I ordered pie,” she informs me before shoving her perfectly cut piece of pancake into her mouth. “And a milkshake. You can wai—”
I slide into the booth across from her before signaling Tina for coffee. “I’m hungry now.”
Her mouth hangs open for a split second before snapping shut to continue to chew. When she’s finished, she sets her fork down carefully—a surefire sign she’s struggling not to make good on her threat to bury it in my neck—and pushes her plate away.
She’s leaving.
Shit.
“You’re not leaving because I’m here are you?”
Like I knew it would, the question stops her in her tracks. If there’s anything that gets Tess riled, it’s suggesting that’s she’s running from or avoiding something.
Mainly me.
Before she can tell me to fuck off, Tina pops up with a double slice of blueberry pie and a chocolate milkshake big enough to swim in.
“Girl, I don’t know where you put all this food,” she says, shaking her head at the litter of plates and bowls strewn across the table.