Iced Romance Read online

  Between these free drinks and the extra spaghetti, I’m down a good thirty bucks now. Seniors day may be good coin for Max, but it is definitely costing me.

  Several hours later, my shift is nearly over, and I am making the final rounds of my section. I wipe down another table, moving the salt and pepper shakers back to the side, and then pick up a newspaper that someone had left on their seat.

  For the second day in a row, I find myself looking at a picture of me. “Missing Woman Claims She Is Not Missing!” states the headline. Another unflattering picture of me is squished beneath the headline. I skim the article. They got most of it right, actually. Kennedy Carter has notified Florida police that she is not missing. Broken engagement with Todd Marusiak. Carter wishes to be left alone.

  They got too much right, actually. Mentioning Florida is a big red flag. How long do I expect to be able to hide here without people finding out the truth? I look over my shoulder. Leila is chatting to a couple in a booth, Christine is somewhere in the back, and Max is counting the money in the tip jar. I turn the pages to the sports section. If there is going to be any more news about me, it will be here.

  “Marusiak Swears ‘I will not rest until I find her’ at Hockey Game.” Oh crap. That doesn’t sound good. I begin reading.

  Todd Marusiak filed a missing person claim after returning from the road and finding his fiancée, Kennedy Carter, gone. However, just yesterday police were informed by Carter herself that she is not missing and she merely left, not being able to handle the accusations of cheating and affairs that have been plaguing Marusiak for the past two weeks. At a hockey game last night in Denver, Colorado, Marusiak made a bold statement when he said “I will not rest until I find my fiancée and bring her home. We belong together.” There has been no comment from Carter on this matter.

  The article continues in this vein, outlining the various women who have come forward over the past weeks to announce they too had had an affair with Todd. I stop reading.

  What is going on? Todd hasn’t even bothered to email a legitimate apology to me. But now he’s trying to show the world that “we belong together” and he is going to hunt me down?

  I feel confused again. Part of me is thrilled. Todd must actually love me after all, right? Maybe the affairs were accidental. Maybe we do belong together. But then there is another part of me that wants it all to disappear. I have a new life here. New friends. David.

  Thinking about David makes me a little weak in the knees. David, with his strong hands and those brilliant eyes. David, who makes my hands shake just a little when he draws near. David, who stole my heart with that kiss.

  At least he would have if I hadn’t had Todd on the brain all day.

  I need to get a message to Todd, I think with growing courage. He needs to know that I don’t want to be found. I don’t want him back. And as flattering as it is that he wants to launch a crusade to find me, he did cheat. Over and over and over. And treated me like I belonged to him.

  I can’t let him back into my life.

  I’ll call Mrs. Lawrence tonight. After my shift is over. I’ll phone her, let her know I’m okay, and ask her to please tell Todd to stop interfering with my life. And I’ll email Todd. I’ll tell him I’m done and we’re done and to stop bringing my name up and definitely to stop looking for me. My life is my own now.

  He’s ruined it enough already, thank you.

  I don’t want him back. Do I?

  1 Draft Message—Unsent

  From: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Todd,

  STOP TRYING TO FIND ME!!!! Haven’t the jersey pieces and me disappearing made things obvious enough?? WE’RE OVER! Please stop bringing my name up in the papers. Please stop filing reports saying I’m missing. Seriously, I’m 28 years old. I’m not a baby. More importantly, I’m not YOUR baby.

  I’m not coming back to you. I’m over you. You cheated on me way too many times and I’m fed up with it all. Please leave me alone.

  Stop harassing me.

  Kennedy

  Chapter Seventeen

  The last twenty minutes before the restaurant closes drag by. I check the clock, praying I can head home soon. I haven’t put the newspaper down, terrified that if I did, someone would notice it, and find out the truth. Five minutes left. I can handle that. I glance around my section again, but all the tables are neat, no customers are waiting to be fed.

  I turn, still clutching the paper, and my heart jumps into my throat as I almost walk into Leila. “Whoa, girl, what are you so antsy about? Didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.” Her voice is a little annoyed. “I just came over here to see if you needed help with your tables.”

  “No, no, I’m fine.” My words are fast and tumble over each other. “I’m good, all clean over here.” Please go away, I add silently. Don’t talk to me. I’m sort of freaking out about life.

  Leila’s grey eyes watch me. “You seem bothered about something. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Excuse me.” Leila and I turn and see a woman holding a camera. She’s wearing a floral Hawaiian shirt and has a husband in khakis and a fanny pack standing just behind her. Tourists.

  “Sorry, did you need something else?” Leila asks her. They must have been people she waited on tonight, so I step back, excluding myself from the conversation.

  The woman shakes her head and, to my surprise, points at me. “No,” she says impatiently, brushing Leila off. “I meant you, miss. You’re Kennedy Carter, aren’t you? I recognized you from the paper. We were hoping we could get a picture with you, as sort of a memento to show our friends back home. Nobody is going to believe we actually found you!”

  My heart sinks. I shake my head. “No, I’m not Kennedy Carter. You must, uh, have me mistaken with someone.”

  The woman points at my uniform. “It says right there that your name is Kennedy. I know you’re the one. Todd Marusiak’s fiancée,” she stage whispers to Leila. “You know, the girl who disappeared after he cheated.”

  “I, uh, I really, really don’t know what you’re talking about.” My panic levels are rising. I need to escape from here, to hide away from these people. This is the whole reason I came here, to escape from the eyes and the whispers and the people gossiping behind my back. This should not be happening!

  The man steps forward now. “It is you,” he agrees in a gruff tone. “We know you’re the one. Now why don’t you be a doll and let us get your photograph.”

  Leila’s face is a mixture of confusion and compassion. I look at her, pleading for her to help me.

  “Sir, ma’am?” Leila suddenly takes charge, holding out her hands. “I’m so sorry, but you’ve got the wrong girl. Kennedy has been a waitress here for the past three years and she’s dating a guy from Fort Lauderdale. You must be mistaken.”

  I gape at her for a second and then nod. “Exactly, uh, that’s right,” I stutter. “I’m not Kennedy Carter. Yes, my name’s Kennedy, but it’s a, well, a popular name, or something.”

  The couple stares at me for a minute longer. The woman’s eyes are narrowed and I can almost see the figurative wheels turning in her brain. But Leila stays beside me, tough and unbending like a rock.

  Finally the woman shrugs and they move on.

  The moment they are out of earshot, Leila spins toward me. “Okay, chickie, what’s going on? Who are you? I know you’re the person they were talking about. You’re a really bad liar. So tell me, what’s up?”

  I look around. Christine is coming out of the kitchen, her uniform slung over her arm. “I’m heading out, see you tomorrow,” she calls over to us. Max and Gary are somewhere in the back, but I don’t want them to overhear.

  “Can we go outside?”

  Leila follows me out into the humid even
ing air and sits on the curb beside me. I take a deep breath and then tell her everything. How happy I was with Todd. How hurt I was when he cheated. How confused and lost I felt. My escape here, trying to hide and bury my past forever. And now, being with David.

  “I’m confused, I guess,” I admit. I’ve been talking for thirty minutes and Leila hasn’t said much. She has her hand on my arm and pats it every now and again, but other than that, she’s let me ramble on. When the tears started, for the first time I didn’t feel ashamed to be crying.

  “I think David could be someone special. I can see myself with him forever, even though I’ve only hung out with him a couple times. But I can’t seem to get over Todd. I don’t know what to do.”

  The silence weighs heavily on my shoulders as I finally stop. Down the street a couple of teenagers laugh, their voices obnoxious in the still night. A car drives by, headlights casting an ominous glow on the alley next to us.

  “I’m sorry, man.” Leila sounds sympathetic, but her face is bathed in shadow and I can’t read her expression. “What a dirty scum your fiancé was.”

  I feel a tug of affection for Leila and shift my position on the curb. My bum is going numb and I’ll need to stand up soon or else I may not be able to walk home.

  “So what do I do?” I ask a second time. “I don’t want to tell David the truth. I don’t want him to know about Todd or about the real me.”

  “The real you?” echoes Leila. “Girl, the ‘real you’ is the person I’ve known the past two weeks. And, despite what I may have said to you at times, you’re not too bad. David will know that too. He’ll know you’re pretty great.”

  I smile despite myself. “Thanks,” I say softly. “I haven’t been told that in a while.”

  We sit there for a second, both lost in our own thoughts. Leila breaks the silence finally. “So if David knowing your past isn’t the issue, what is?”

  I hesitate. “I don’t know even how I feel, not really. Maybe I am making a huge mistake by giving up on Todd forever. I mean, we were engaged. We loved each other. Maybe I should go back to Colorado and forget this whole thing ever happened.”

  Even as I say the words, I feel a hollow sickness in my stomach. Can I forget this all happened? Can I forget David?

  Leila pauses for a moment too long. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she admits. “But I do think that whatever you do, you have to feel okay with it. You obviously aren’t okay going back to Todd, and I respect that. Men who cheat aren’t worth your time. However, about David? If you’re not willing to tell him the truth, maybe it’s because you don’t have a future together after all. Maybe he is just a rebound fling.”

  Her words cut like knives in my soul. Really? David’s a rebound? I try to remember how I feel with him, try to bring back the happy memories.

  “I don’t think David’s a rebound,” I say stoutly. I sound like a stubborn kid in the candy aisle, begging her mom for a treat. “I know he’s not. He’s more than that.”

  But I can’t put the rest into words and I stop. Leila gives me a side hug and then stands up, groaning and stretching. “Ugh, I have to get home, girl. But you’ll be okay. Just go on your date with David tomorrow and see how you feel. You don’t need to decide everything tonight.”

  It’s true. I stand as well, feeling the blood rush back into my legs with prickly, tingling sensations. “All right. Thanks for listening.”

  “No prob.” Leila turns and begins walking down the sidewalk, and I watch her retreat. Then she stops and looks over her shoulder at me. “And Kennedy? Don’t worry about all the what ifs and don’t worry about who you were or what you did before. That was then, this is now. Don’t stress about stuff you don’t need to stress about.”

  I tell her goodnight and walk home. Leila’s words echo around in my head. That was then, this is now. Don’t think about what ifs.

  Rebound. Rebound. Rebound.

  Is David a rebound? I don’t know. If he’s not a rebound, if I really think I have a future with him, why won’t I tell him the truth?

  I unlock my front door and step into the dry, cold air of my living room. I fumble along the wall until I feel the light switch and flick it on. Then my blood runs cold.

  Cockroaches, at least four of them. They scurry away from the sudden light, two heading my way, the others going toward the kitchen. I shriek, looking around for anything to kill them with. My shoe? The iron I’ve shoved into the front closet?

  I’m not a bug person. When I was in elementary school and our teacher told us to collect moths and butterflies for a class project, I faked sick until the project was over. A whole week having to convince my mother that I really, truly had a fever was no easy task, believe me. Especially after she discovered that the chicken pox that had appeared on my body overnight were nothing more than carefully applied magic marker dots.

  I shriek again as the closest cockroach veers toward me. His shiny, beady eyes stare at me, I’m sure of it. This is a really bad horror movie.

  “Chiquita? Kennedy? Are you all right?”

  I shriek a third time and spin in the direction of the voice. “Oh thank God,” I breathe, collapsing against the wall in shaky relief. Jesica stands in my doorway, with a baseball bat and a concerned look on her face.

  “I hear you scream and come. You need help?” She is wearing a black and red uniform with Maude’s Maids! written on the front.

  With a trembling finger I point at the cockroaches. “I have no idea what to do with these.”

  Jesica laughs, a welcome sound to my squeamish body. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I call my son. He look after bugs. He love bugs.” She turns and steps back into her own apartment. “¡Niño, niño, venacá!”

  There is a pattering of feet and then little Carlos appears at his mother’s side. I show him where the cockroaches went and he sets off with a glass jar. “I’ll get them, Kennedy, I promise.” His words are sure and confident. Who’d have thought my hero would be a five year old?

  I put a hand to my throat and shake my head. “Wow, Jesica, thank you so much. I think I would have died if I’d had to kill them myself.”

  “It’s no problem, no problem.” Jesica takes me by the arm and leads me to the couch. “Cockroaches are muy malo. I hate them and I have lived with them my whole life.”

  “How do you get rid of them?” I avert my eyes from Carlos who is stepping on a cockroach. This one seems to be a particularly resilient little creature, however, because it takes Carlos three stomps before the cockroach is dead.

  “If you rich, you pay for the bug spray people every few months. If you poor, you have a niño and he does it for you.” Jesica smiles wickedly, her broad grin displaying slightly crooked teeth.

  “You can put them in the microwave if they bigger than this much,” Carlos interjects from the floor where, on his hands and knees, he is peering under the stove. He holds his hand up with the fingers about an inch apart.

  “Ugh, but then you’d have to catch them to put them in the microwave.” I shudder and Jesica pats my arm sympathetically. “And probably clean up after them. What if they explode like a Tupperware container?” The image disturbs me immensely and I shut my eyes.

  My cell phone rings and I leap to my feet. Watching where I step, I make my way to it. “Hello?”

  I stare at the wall, blocking out the image of Carlos trapping a bug in his glass jar.

  “Hey, Kennedy? It’s David, how are you?”

  “David, hi!”

  I am happy to hear his voice, relief flooding through me that it’s him. As nice as Jesica and Carlos are, it feels safe having David just a phone call away.

  “Oh my gosh, there are bugs everywhere. I think I’m going to have a meltdown.” I tell David all about the cockroaches and how Carlos and Jesica came over to save me.

 
; “So you’re all right?” I hear something clatter on his end of the line.

  “I’m fine, I promise,” I say. “What was that noise?”

  David sounds a bit chagrined. “I just dropped the pot I’m unloading from the dishwasher. I’m a bit of a klutz with household tasks.”

  I laugh and he laughs and for a second, I’m not in my dirty, cockroach apartment. I’m somewhere else, somewhere secure and warm without any fears.

  “I wanted to call and confirm that we’re still good for dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Of course, that sounds great. I’m working the early shift tomorrow, so I’ll be ready by about six thirty or so.” I don’t mention that I had to beg and plead with Julie, one of the girls on the other shift in order to trade. And I also don’t mention that it will be a major relief not to work with Leila tomorrow on our normal shift. I don’t know if I could handle any more questions about my past from her at the moment.

  “Great. I’ve got us reservations at this amazing Italian place in Orlando. I hope you’re up for a bit of a drive.” His voice sounds anxious to please me. I feel a shiver of excitement.

  “Sounds fabulous.”

  We chat for a minute longer and then I hang up. Jesica looks up from the couch and winks at me. “So, somebody have another hot date tomorrow?”

  I blush, my cheeks instantly on fire. “Sort of.”

  “You go, chica. Is he the same one you tell me about before?” She pats the seat beside her and I sink down, still not fully used to girl talk.

  Carlos is scampering around my kitchen, making noise and alternating between squishing and capturing the cockroaches. My feet are up on the sofa because I’m terrified that a bug will crawl up my leg. “Yes, same one. The Gatorland date was awesome, and he’s so wonderful and perfect and,” I hesitate. “And I don’t know why I still have lingering thoughts of my ex.” Of all people, I’m sure Jesica will understand.