Forgotten Yesterday by Renee Ericson Read Free Book Online Page A

was here last night, too. We kind of ended badly and went separate ways. It was a long time ago, though.”
    “I get that.” She nods. “Been there and done it. Twice. Take my advice and don’t look back. It never works out. Trust me. I did the relationship backpedal only to find out that what’s comfortable means that nothing has changed.”
    “I’m not getting back together with him,” I retort at the preposterous notion. “He doesn’t even live here. He’s only in town for a few days on business.”
    “Mhmm.”
    “Table 35 in the window,” Jared shouts.
    “I got it,” I call back, racking my glass with the rest of the dirty dishes. “That’s my table,” I say to Astrid as she continues to go through her customers’ bills.
    Going right to work, I put together my table’s entrees on the tray and don’t give any stock to what Astrid has just said. What happened to her doesn’t apply to me at all. Brent and I are over and have thousands of miles to keep us that way. We put them there.
    Brian tries to get my attention between the chrome shelving as my hands move each entree to the tray. Waggling his brows and making flirty gestures, he sets up the plates for the next table.
    “So Ruby,” he starts. “Do you think I can get your number, so we can plan on going out later?”
    Pulling the tray up to my shoulder, I say, “Yeah, remind me later,” and basically run out of the kitchen.
    I serve my table and then make my way back to the bar, finding Brent’s beer waiting to be served. Pat is at the tap, pouring another one.
    “You could have taken this out,” I tell Pat, referring to the beer.
    “I was busy,” he winks, waving to the nearly empty bar.
    Giving him a mocking “whatever” look, I pick up the beer.
    On my way to Brent’s booth, I notice that one side of his mouth keeps twitching. Placing a small square napkin on the table, I set his drink in front of him.
    “So,” he begins casually, grabbing the glass of dark liquid. “I guess this is the awkward conversation part?”
    Jerking my head in his direction, I laugh. “What do you mean?”
    “You know.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I ask you how you’ve been and you tell me fine, and then you ask the same of me and I tell you things are good. All the while neither one of saying anything of importance.”
    Pursing my lips, I try not to smile.
    “Yeah. Sounds good to me,” I say sarcastically. “Let’s do this not saying anything of importance thing. Do you want to go first?”
    “No,” he chuckles. “Not really. I don’t want to pretend at all.”
    “Damn, and I was already working on an interesting comeback which could mean nothing or absolutely everything.”
    “Oh, yeah? What were you going to say that was so interesting?”
    “I was thinking about going for something like awesome, rad, fantabulous, or possibly fantastic-o.”
    “Would it be true? Are things fantastic-o?”
    “Who knows?” I shrug. “It’s all relative, right?”
    I can feel us sliding right back into comfortable and easy conversation. Is this backpedalling? No, this is just talking to someone I know. He’s just here for a visit, that’s it.
    Brent shifts in his seat, resting his forearms on the table. “Can I just be up front?”
    “Like I can stop you.” I cross my arms over my chest. My heart pounds everywhere. The blood is pulsating even in my toes.
    “I’m not going to lie. I was really surprised to run into you last night and I know you may be mad at me—”
    “I’m not mad at you at all,” I interrupt.
    Brent observes me, unblinking.
    “Honest, it was a long time ago.”
    “For what it’s worth.” He rubs his jaw. “Even though it may be a little late, I want you to know I’m really sorry about what happened.”
    “I know. So am I.”
    My toes wiggle inside my shoes. It’s the only part of me that I can hide and still move. I need to move. I shift my weight a few times, not sure what to say.
     “Can I ask you something?”