Second Hearts (The Wishes Series) by GJ Walker-Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

even more humiliated.
    “Would you like to hear the specials?” I repeated.
    He ignored me. “What’s your name?” He leaned forward, peering at the badge pinned to my chest.
    “Priscilla,” I announced.
    A bright grin swept his face. “Well that’s a huge coincidence, because my name is Elvis.”
    Elvis was clearly lying.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Elvis,” I said dryly.
    He nodded politely. “You too, Priscilla.” I picked a menu off the table and thrust it at him. He pretended to read it for a moment, snapped it shut and hit me with his next question. “Where are you from?”
    He didn’t recognise my accent. It was licence to give Priscilla a whole new ancestry. “Africa. I arrived two weeks ago.” It was only half a lie and I felt no unease in telling it.
    Elvis didn’t get a chance to ask me anything else. His date arrived. A pretty blonde rushed over to the table, apologised for being late and crushed her lips to his the second he stood up.
    I didn’t need an excuse to leave. Bryce whistled from across the room.
    “We’re ready to order,” he yelled.
    Fan-bloody-tastic.

5. Smash Cake
    Winter was starting to get to me. I hated having to bundle up like an Eskimo just to go outside. It reminded me of being back in Pipers Cove. The weather was the only thing that reminded me of home. New York City was about as far removed as I could get from the tiny town I’d grown up in. It was fast paced, busy and exciting. I left my apartment every morning just to walk, making sure I ventured one street further than I had the day before. My confidence was building, my knowledge was expanding and most importantly, my grief was subsiding.
    To say I never thought of Adam any more would be a lie. I thought of him all the time. Many things in New York reminded me of him. This was his place. But I was no glutton for punishment. Since my disastrous stakeout at his building, I’d never been back. New York was a huge city – plenty big enough for the both of us.
     
    As hard a taskmaster as Paolo was, going to work was still the highlight of my day. I walked to the cloakroom, hung my coat and spent the next minute or so covertly scanning the dining room from the kitchen side of the mirrored window in the door.
    Betty and Merle sat at their favourite table, all loved up and tucking in to their eggs. Phoebe was polishing her glass in preparation for her breakfast and thankfully, mercifully, Bryce was nowhere to be seen. The rest of the dining room was relatively quiet. All the tables near the windows were taken, but the centre section and mezzanine level were empty, lifting my mood instantly. I hated carrying food up the stairs. I had enough trouble doing it on level ground.
    Betty called out to me the minute I walked out of the kitchen, waving her napkin as if I was hard of hearing.
    “Good morning,” I beamed.
    “Do you know how long we’ve been married, Priscilla?” asked Betty, for the millionth time.
    “Fifty years?” I asked, hoping I sounded unsure.
    Merle covered his mouth with his napkin and chuckled. It was a rumbly sound that no one under the age of eighty could replicate.
    “No,” she said, confusing me. “We’ve been married fifty-one years today.”
    I leaned down and gently hugged her frail, diminutive frame. “Congratulations to you both. I hope you’re doing something nice today.”
    Merle answered, waving his shaky finger at me. “When you get to be our age, every day is nice.”
    I agreed, smiling.
    I wanted to do something special for the Swanstons. When I saw them standing to leave, I rushed to the counter near the door so I could be the one to take care of their bill. Rushing was unnecessary. It took them ages to walk across the room, arm in arm to steady each other.
    Merle reached for his wallet. “Not today, Merle,” I told him, glancing around for any sign of Paolo. “Your breakfast today is on the house. Happy anniversary.”
    A certain amount of guilt must have accompanied the