When I Fall(39)

We exchange quick hellos as Riley grabs an apron for me off the wall. After securing it around my waist, I rub my hands together and eagerly step up behind the table. She gives me a quick run-down of the procedure for serving the people who come in. Everyone gets portions of whatever they’d like, and if there are leftovers after they go through the line, people can come up for seconds. Riley tells me most days they have enough for that to happen, except for holidays when the crowd wraps around the building.

“This is so great,” I say to Riley as I scoop a generous portion of green beans onto a plate. I hand it to the woman waiting across the other side of the table. “I wish they would’ve had something like this where I’m from. I could’ve used it.”

She looks over at me, empathy in her eyes, and I see the moment she decides to go a different route with her response. The hesitation forcing her lips to close, then the slight tilt of her head. “Where are you from?” she asks.

“Kentucky. I just moved here a few days ago. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle.”

She spoons some soup into a bowl and hands it to the man in front of her. “I would love to travel. I’ve lived here my whole life. But my family is here, and my boyfriend. He’s not much for getting out.”

I chuckle when she wrinkles her nose in disgust. “How long have you been together?”

“Few months, I guess,” she answers, almost dismissively. “I . . . he’s . . .” She huffs. “I don’t know. It’s complicated, which sounds like such a cliché thing to say.”

“Some relationships are.”

“Cliché?” she asks.

“Complicated.”

Her head drops into a quick nod.

I may have touched on a sore subject, so I decide not to pry any further as I scoop out a hearty serving of green beans onto the next plate and hand it off. Maybe changing the subject would be best.

“Have you ever been to an engagement party?” I ask.

She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head as she hands out another bowl. “No, I don’t think so. People have engagement parties?”

“Apparently.”

I tap my spoon on the edge of the serving tray, knocking off a few beans. The idea of throwing a party to celebrate locking down a mate seems a bit unnecessary to me. Isn’t that the whole purpose of the wedding?

I lean my hip against the table while my hand absentmindedly stirs the beans. “I’m trying to decide if these parties are usually formal events or not. I own one dress and I’m not sure it’s fancy enough. It’s pretty plain.”

Riley tilts the large pot of clam chowder toward her and peers down into it. “I guess it depends on the couple having it. If they have money, why not throw it around?” She looks up at me as she lifts the pot off the table. “I’m going to get a little bit more before people start coming up for seconds. Are you good?”

I look down into my tray. Not many people stopped for the green beans, although they look and smell delicious.

“I have more than half. I think I’m good.”

As she walks to the back of the kitchen with her pot, I slip my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and step away from the table.

I have no idea what Reed’s ex-girlfriend’s money situation is. She could’ve blown all her cash on the heavily perfumed invitation sitting on my bedroom dresser. This party could be low-key and informal. It could also be an event that requires Reed to wear a tux.

Shit. I can’t handle him in something rented.

Me: Hey, it’s me. Is this thing on Saturday going to be really fancy? I don’t know if I have anything to wear.

It’s not raining today, which means Reed is most likely at work. He might not have his phone on him. I could be stuck making a judgment call on this, but I don’t want to buy something I’ll only wear once if I don’t even need it.

Reed: Who is this?

I stare at the screen, mouth falling open. Really? Who is this?

Me: Beth.

Me: Beth Davis.

Me: From McGill’s.

Reed: Sweetheart, even if I didn’t know who this was, which I did, you could’ve stopped at Beth. I would’ve figured it out.

Me: You’re hilarious.

If there is a way to text sarcasm, I pray I just nailed it.

Reed: I thought I was funny. So did Connor.

Me: Who is Connor?

Reed: One of my workers. I asked his opinion. He laughed.

Me: He’s sucking up to you. You sign his paycheck.

Reed: Technically, my mother signs his paycheck. She runs the office. I just tell him what to do.

Me: Like laugh at your poor attempts to be funny.

Reed: Hold on. I’m programming your number into my phone, Beth Davis from McGill’s.