Free Three Broken Promises by Monica Murphy Page A

him this time, pressing my lips together when he tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. He’s so gentle, so sweet. Does he know how torturous this is? How much I want him?
    We deny each other what we both want. I’m starting to wonder if we’re both out of our minds.
    “Everyone still needs help,” I tell him, the breath catching in my lungs when he steps closer. He’s invading my personal space, helping me forget what just happened with that horrible customer. “I’ll take my break in thirty minutes. It should slow down by then.”
    “Take care of yourself. I don’t like to see you looking so rattled.” His gaze drops to my lips and I part them, wishing he would kiss me. Which is crazy considering we’re in the middle of a very public restaurant.
    “I’m okay. Really.” I offer him a bigger smile and he returns it, the sight of that familiar, heartbreaking crooked smile making me want to throw my arms around him and never let him go.
    “I miss talking to you,” he confesses, his voice low.
    I’m stunned by his words. “I miss talking to you too,” I automatically say in return.
    “Before you—leave, let’s try to do that, okay?” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “Let’s try and talk? Catch up with . . . everything? I feel like I don’t know you anymore, Jen.”
    He doesn’t. There’s too much I don’t want him to know. That’s why we don’t talk.
    “Sure. We can catch up. Sounds great.” I sound flippant and I see the hurt in his eyes, but I ignore it.
    We’re always hurting each other rather than facing the truth. It’s just easier that way.
    “So you’re going to Sacramento on your day off?” Fable asks the question innocently, but there’s a motive behind her words. She wants to know if I’m really going through with this.
    And she’s ever so hopeful I’ll back out and say I’m staying. Too bad I’m going to disappoint her. After what happened earlier, I know my leaving is the right choice. I’d rather be anonymous than deal with those sorts of confrontations.
    Offering her a firm nod, I steadily count out my cash tips. It’s our nightly ritual, where we all sit around a few tables and tally up our take for the night, then each of us puts in enough for the busboys and the hostesses. “That’s my plan.”
    “How are you getting there?” Another innocent question, and this one I don’t have an easy answer to, since I don’t own a car.
    Yeah. I really need one. It’s the first thing on my list of what I need to function when I’m on my own. “I was hoping I could borrow Colin’s car.”
    Fable bursts out laughing, the wench. “Yeah, right. He doesn’t want you to leave and you really think he’s going to let you drive his fancy-schmancy car alone to Sacramento? You gotta be kidding.”
    “I have my license. I know how to drive a freaking car,” I say grumpily, stacking up the one-dollar bills. Tonight was good, the tips were plentiful, and I’m thankful for every dollar I count.
    I need all of them, since I’m going to be living on my own and paying all the bills that come with independent living.
    “In the big city? Come on, small-town girl. You’ll probably freak with all the traffic. And isn’t that car of Colin’s his precious baby?”
    For a person who tried her hardest to plan this move thoroughly, I’m looking like a complete idiot right about now. “Fine, you can drive me.”
    “I work that day. I already checked the schedule.” Fable shrugs. “And I don’t own the truck, Drew does. We only have one vehicle and if I’m not using it to run Owen over to practice, Drew’s driving to his practice or dropping me off at work or going to school or . . . whatever.”
    Crap . I’d love to do this by myself. I don’t want to be dependent on someone else. I wish I could rent a car but I don’t have a credit card and there’s all these rules about using your debit card and have to have a certain amount in the bank account. It’s too