Page 7 of Trophy

Another large family had come in, and Allison had hurried to get them menus. It was getting more crowded in here now, and she was starting to look flustered. Her cheeks had gotten pink, which just made her even prettier.

Dee’s eyes followed Rob’s gaze. “She must be new,” Dee muttered. Then she straightened up and snapped, “Hey, new girl! I’ve been waiting forever. I need a Diet Coke.”

Allison turned quickly, having just offered the last menu to the table. Whatever her initial expression had been was quickly covered by her polite waitress face. “Of course. I’ll get it right now.”

Rob cringed internally, embarrassed by Dee, wondering why he’d ever hooked up with her. He’d been attracted to her, and she’d come on to him strong. It had been so easy to just go along with things. Plus, she’d always been very needy.

After the humiliation and helplessness of his first marriage, Rob had been looking to feel strong and in control of things, so he’d been drawn to her neediness. But he’d eventually learned that it was just another way to be used and manipulated.

Allison brought Dee a glass of soda, her eyes discreetly lowered as she murmured, “Sorry for the wait. Can I get you anything else?”

“No. I don’t want anything else.”

Allison glanced over at Rob’s empty plate. “Are you done?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I’ll get your check.”

He watched her as she went back to the kitchen. She still looked perfectly pulled together, but he could tell she was rattled underneath. She wasn’t used to the job yet, and he could imagine it was hard to be faced with the pressure of a lot of tables and less-than-polite customers.

“I’ve got to get to work,” he told Dee, standing up.

She was sipping her soda and looked surprised and displeased by his abrupt departure. “It’s still early.”

“I’ve got stuff to do. I’ll see about talking to Cali as soon as I can.”

He walked over to the cash register, so Allison brought the bill to where he stood.

“I’ll pay for her soda too,” he said, gesturing toward Dee. She would expect him to, and it seemed kind of cheap and rude not to. “She’s my ex-wife,” he added.

Allison’s face reflected enlightenment. It might have been his imagination, but he hoped he saw a little relief there too.

“Was everything okay?” she asked, accepting the cash he handed her.

“Yes. It was great. You’re doing a great job.”

She gave a little huff. “We’ll see.”

This was where he should flirt with her, think of something funny and clever and sexy to say.

What he said was “Did you get your toilet fixed?”

Just perfect.

“I did. I managed it on my own.” She was pleased by this accomplishment, and he couldn’t help but be pleased for her. It would have been nice if she’d needed his help, but he couldn’t help but admire her desire to be independent, to get by on her own.

“Good. Good.” He was searching for something else to say when the bell rang to indicate that an order was ready.

“I better get going. Thanks for your help with everything.”

And with that, Allison walked away.

Rob sighed as his eyes lowered to her rounded little ass. He felt a surge of frustration that he was making so few strides in attracting her, but he shrugged it off, telling himself it was still early days.

At least she liked him now. That was better than two days ago.

He’d gotten a five back as change, so he folded it up and walked it over to his seat.

Dee had taken her Diet Coke to another table so she could chat with a couple of guys she must know.

Rob laid the money on the table and then, struck by the thought of how hard a time Allison might have today—her first day on the job—he grabbed the Sharpie he always kept in his pocket for work and scrawled a few words on a napkin, leaving it with the tip before he walked out of the restaurant.

That evening Allison could barely move.

She couldn’t remember ever being so tired. Her feet and her back were killing her. She’d thought the ballet flats she’d worn were comfortable shoes, but they weren’t good enough to be standing up for so many hours. This weekend she’d have to go shoe shopping—searching for comfort rather than style.

Vicki had called to see how her day had gone, so Allison filled her in on how stressful waiting tables really was. Then Vicki told her all about the shopping she’d done that week.

Allison was hit with a faint surge of nostalgia. There was a lot she’d hated about being Arthur’s trophy wife, but she’d always loved to shop, and she might never have that kind of freedom in her life again.

“You seem sad,” Vicki said after a moment of silence.

“I’m not. I’m… really tired. I knew it would be hard, but it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“But you got a job now, so things are going pretty well.”

“Yes. They are. I’m not complaining.”

“And you have a very cute neighbor across the street who wants to help you all the time.”

Allison chuckled, a little clench in her chest as she thought about Rob. “He’s pretty nice. But don’t be getting any ideas about him.”

“Why not?”

“He was raised in this town. He’s never going to leave it—and I’m only going to stay here for as long as I have to. Anyway, he’s got this ex-wife who seems to hang around him all the time. You know how that kind of thing goes.”

“You think they’ll get back together?”

“Who knows? It doesn’t really matter anyway. He needs to find himself a nice small-town girl, and I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Why does it have to be a relationship? What about a roll in the hay with a hot country boy?”

Allison couldn’t help but laugh, trying not to visualize rolling around with Rob. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Just trying to get you to loosen up. I know what you’re doing is hard, but maybe you could have a good time occasionally while you’re doing it.”

“Maybe.” Allison didn’t believe it. She just wanted Vicki to drop the subject. “Anyway, I should probably start getting ready for bed. I’m about to fall over, and I have to get up at the crack of dawn.”

“Okay. Call me tomorrow and let me know how things are going.”

When she hung up, Allison managed to haul herself out of her chair (the one comfortable chair she’d been able to get up from the basement), where she’d collapsed an hour ago, and she picked up her water bottle and her dinner plate with the remnants of the sandwich she’d eaten to take them into the kitchen.

She was starting to close the living room blinds when her eyes landed on Rob’s big brick house across the street.

His yard was perfectly manicured—every bush trimmed, every bed weeded, and not a dandelion in sight. It reminded her how messy her own yard was. She would have to work on it some this weekend, or the neighbors would resent her.

Rob’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. He had a garage, but she’d noticed he never parked there. It was probably piled full of stuff.

He must not be home. Maybe he was hanging out with his clingy ex-wife.

It didn’t matter. He might be kind and funny and handsome and sexy as hell, but he wasn’t for her.

She finished closing up the house and went to her bedroom to change. Her attention was caught by a folded napkin, which she’d laid on the dresser with her tip money.

She picked up the napkin and smoothed it out, reading the words Rob had written that morning.

You’re doing great for a “new girl.” Don’t let anyone tell you differently. R.

She smiled and was still smiling when she went to bed a few minutes later.