Getting Over Garrett Delaney(60)
Author: Abby McDonald

“About what?”

“I’ll help,” He tells me. “I pulled mess-hall duty all summer, I can handle it.”

I pause. Normally, I’d turn him down flat, but today . . . ? I eye the debris scattered around the café, a vast wasteland of dirty plates and coffee rings on the tabletops. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. You need me.” Garrett laughs. He reaches over the counter and uses his thumb to wipe cappuccino foam from my cheek. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Um, it’s kind of the scut job,” I start cautiously, “but if you could bus tables . . .”

“Already done!” He backs away, grinning. “I’ll be the best table wiper you’ve ever seen!”

And he is. Well, good enough, anyway. Garrett fetches, carries, wipes, and cleans for the rest of the morning, until our rush dwindles to a steady stream, and LuAnn finally arrives to take over Dominique’s vacated post.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” She leans against the counter, watching Garrett clean tables out front. He’s found an apron and slung a dishcloth over one shoulder, happily playing the part of busboy for the day.

“What? Oh, right. Garrett offered to help out.”

LuAnn smirks. “And how does Josh feel about that?”

“Josh?” I pause. “He’s fine. We needed the help.”

“Are you sure about that?” LuAnn nods across the room. Josh is trailing Garrett’s route, checking every table after Garrett is done. “It’s cute the way guys get so protective of their territory. I’m surprised he doesn’t just pee all over the place.”

“LuAnn! Eww!” I bat her with the dishcloth.

She laughs. “I’m just saying. . . .”

“Well, don’t. At least not where customers can hear you.”

She props her chin on one hand and bats her eyelashes at me. “You know, maybe it’s not the café Josh is feeling protective about. . . .”

“What?” LuAnn gives me a meaningful look. “Oh, no, no way,” I tell her firmly, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. I turn away, busying myself with the pastry cabinet. “Now you really are being crazy.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “Now, can we please focus on what we’re going to do about Dominique?”

For the next few days, Dominique’s scandalous departure is the only gossip in the café. Carlos takes the news with a nonchalant shrug, then proceeds to go AWOL for the week, apparently crawling every bar in the state until Josh and Denton go scrape him off the floor of a karaoke joint in Boston, clutching the mic and belting out his one big hit. I don’t know what to think; their relationship was way too clandestine for me to know if he meant it or was just playing around with her, but when Friday rolls around and he spends an hour flirting with a table of blond coeds — regaling them with tales of music festivals gone by — I get the feeling Dominique made the right call. If he loved her, he would have gone after her, or at least spent more than a few days mourning her loss before hitting on the next pretty young thing to cross his path.

“Penny for ’em.” Josh collapses against the counter next to me on Saturday morning. I jolt. “Your thoughts,” he adds. “You’ve been spaced out all shift.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I shrug. “Just contemplating the meaning of life, love, the universe . . . You know, the usual.”

“Nothing big, then.” He glances over to the front of the café, where Garrett is camped out at the window table with a book and his battered notepads — same as every other day this week. “That guy sure drinks a lot of coffee.”

I laugh. Garrett has become kind of a fixture in here: working on his poetry, chatting to the staff on their breaks, waiting patiently for me to swing by and hang out. “He shouldn’t put his feet up on the seats like that,” Josh adds, giving the Beast a smack. “You know how Carlos gets.”

“Come on . . .” I give him a look.

“What? I’m just saying. Customers bitch about that kind of thing all the time.”

“Fine, I’ll go tell him.” I start to edge out from behind the counter, but Josh turns, suddenly bumping into me.

“Sorry.” He looks awkward, realizing he’s trapped me in the narrow space. “I, uh —”

“It’s OK.” I step the other way, but he does, too. I laugh. “You want to pick left or right?”

“My left or yours?” He grins back.

“I don’t know. We could vote.”

“But what if it’s a tie?” Josh replies, forcing a serious expression.

“Good point. We could be here all day.”

“On the count of three . . .” Josh decides.

“Wait!” I stop him, giggling. “Which way am I going again?”

Finally Josh takes me by the arms and physically moves me to the side. “There.”

“Why didn’t you just do that five minutes ago?” I call, heading across the café.

“What? And miss our meaningful debate?” Josh calls back.

I arrive at Garrett’s table, still laughing. “You don’t have to stay here all day,” I tell him, pushing his feet off the chair and sliding in beside him. “You must be bored.”

“Not at all.” He leans back. “It’s fun, watching you in action.”

“Sure, because wiping tables is a spectator sport,” I murmur, but he just gives me that grin.

“But we’re hanging out. Kind of.” He drums his ink-stained fingers on the tabletop and shoots me a bashful look. “Remember, I’ve been starved for Sadie time all summer.”

I smile. I may not be hanging on his every word anymore, but I can’t deny the glow I get from him wanting to see me — choosing to loiter over a cup of coffee all day just for five minutes of my time, here and there. “So what’s the plan for the rest of summer?” I ask. “We’ve only got a few weeks left before school starts.”

“Plan?” he teases. “Next thing you’ll be making lists and plotting us a schedule.”

“Why not?” I protest, embarrassed. “At least that way we won’t forget anything. We should go into Boston — get stocked up on books and stuff for school.” I pull my order notebook out of my apron pocket and begin to make a list, but when I look up, he’s laughing at me. “What?”