Michelle crossed her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. “Well, she'll be in the wedding. But I'm sure she's going to be too busy to catch up. Bridesmaid duties and all that.”
“Hmm.” Cole rubbed his chin. “Well, maybe we can get together before the wedding. I've got nothing but free time this weekend. Any chance you can give me her number? I'd really like to get in touch with her.”
Michelle stared him down, chewing on her lip. “Well, she just got a new phone,” she said. “I don't have the new number yet. So, I guess you're out of luck.”
Michelle walked past him and out the door. Cole watched her go, frowning at her back. He had the feeling Michelle was lying to him, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. It wasn't like he could steal her phone and go through her contacts list.
But now he was more determined than ever to track Amanda down. How hard could it be? They lived in a small town, and there were plenty of other people he could ask. It shouldn't be too difficult, he figured, to find a way to get into touch with her.
Chapter 5
Amanda worked a double on Friday, to make up for the hours she was going to lose by going to Michelle's wedding. It was a long, grueling shift, and by the end of it, her feet were so sore that she had to lean on the counter as she walked. She really wanted nothing more than to go home, stick her feet in the cheap little foot bath she'd gotten for Christmas a couple of years ago, and forget about the rest of the world. Though her shift wasn't quite over yet, and the end of the night always seemed to drag on and on.
She was down to her last table of the night, and she was spending most of her time finishing up side work so that she'd be able to go home on time. Tonight's side work was refilling all of the ketchup bottles; the diner washed and reused the ketchup bottles to save money, and refilled them from a bulk container. She had a line of ketchup bottles set up on a table near the back, with the mostly-empty bottles turned upside-down and balanced atop others to drain ketchup into them, so the empty bottles could be washed. It was a tedious and sticky process, though she had to admit it was better than what she went through changing out the salt and pepper shakers.
She was starting to load the emptied bottles onto a disk rack when the bell over the door sounded, announcing the arrival of another customer. She sighed and let out a low groan. Late-night customers could be some of the worst, especially when they didn't understand that half the kitchen was already being shut down, so certain items from the menu weren't available this late at night. She hauled the ketchup bottles back to the dish room, then headed up front, grabbing a menu for the guy who'd just walked in the door.
“Hi,” Amanda said. “Just a table for one?”
“Hey, Amanda.”
Amanda froze in place, looking up at the guy's face. A familiar, handsome face.
Cole.
“What...why...?” She stared at him, then looked awkwardly around the empty dining room, brushing a strand of hair back over her ear. She had still been working up the courage to face him at the wedding itself. She was completely unprepared for him to just walk into the diner like this.
“I heard you worked here,” Cole said. “I wanted to see you. You...you look great.”
Amanda turned her face away. She was sure Cole was just being polite. Her uniform was stained, she smelled like soggy hash browns, and her hair was a mess. Plus she'd put on a fair bit of weight during her pregnancy, and four years of eating mostly diner food at work and frozen dinners at home hadn't done her waistline any favors. Though the smile Cole was giving her certainly seemed genuine.
“I'm busy,” she said. “I can't...I can't really have people coming here while I work.”
“What if I order something?” Cole sat in the first booth, giving her a playful smile. “What's good? Do you have pie?”
Amanda shrugged, chewing on her lip. “It's not fresh. I mean, I guess it's okay.”
“Pie sounds good then,” Cole said. “Something chocolaty? And a cup of coffee.”
“Sure.” Amanda set the menu down and went to cut Cole a slice of the chocolate cream pie. She brought it over to him along with a cup of black coffee. Then she stood there awkwardly, playing with the strands of her apron.
“How've you been?” Cole asked. He looked up at her, toying with his fork, not touching the pie.
“I'm...I'm really good,” she said, forcing a smile. There was no way she was going to admit to Cole, the superstar quarterback, that she was living in poverty while raising his son all by herself. “Things have been great. Really great.”
“Are you in school? I remember you were going to some music school. You were like, in the band, right?”