Page 24 of When Forever Falls Apart

My eyes lazily wander to where Madelina is standing as she attempts to knot the back of the apron. Unlike last night, she appears rather pale. Still, regardless of her feisty comebacks, I have to admit she’s caught my attention. Nothing at all like the geeky ninth-grade girl with the metal braces who my sister referred to as her “bestie for life”.

Madelina tucks her rich, chestnut-colored hair behind her ear, giving me a better look at her face. Despite the pallor of her skin, a testament to her obvious hangover, the harsh fluorescent light catches the faint blush on her cheeks. I quickly turn away, aware I’ve been staring too long.

“Okay, where do you need me?”

“The batch on the right is ready to be iced.” I slide the tray closer to her, and the sweet aroma wafts gently between us. “Have you ever worked in a kitchen before?”

“Yes… But do you mean with food?”

“Of course, food. What else would you be doing in a kitchen?”

Madelina closes her eyes, then slowly opens them. “Your voice is registering at higher tones than one would appreciate this morning.”

I lower my gaze, releasing a soft chuckle. “I told you so. Tequila is never a good idea on a weeknight.”

“Sshhh…” She brings her finger to her lips, warning me to lower my voice again. “We don’t refer to the devil so early in the morning, or else you’ll be holding my hair back in the toilet. I’m an ugly vomiter. Argh, I can’t even think about it.”

“Is anyone an attractive vomiter?” I ask, sliding a tray toward her.

“Change the subject. I’m begging you.”

I choose to work quietly, making it easier for both of us. When I worked in fast-paced kitchens, it was not unusual to have to yell at staff during food preparation. But here, the pace is slow, much like this god-forsaken town.

Madelina is quick to break the silence. “Are you quietly judging me? Is that why you’re not saying anything?”

“That depends. Are we on the same subject or moving on?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she questions, placing her hand on her hip. “So, you are judging me? I mean, I haven’t seen you in a thousand years, and the first time happens to be margarita night.”

I motion for her to move so I can slide the next tray over to my right. “I’m assuming your copious amounts of margaritas have something to do with the reason you’re back in town.”

“I’m back in town to help Eva. She’s a busy bee, that one, with the new store opening.”

I nod, but keep the rest of my thoughts at bay. My sudden need to keep to myself appears to irritate her. Eva already gave me the lowdown, and I’m not one to engage in gossip, nor do I care, so I don’t ask any further questions. However, with Madelina standing next to me, so provoked, my curiosity is piqued.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” she says with a slight trepidation in her voice. “What have you heard?”

“What does it matter?” I respond instantly. “Look, we open in an hour, and I need to prep out front.”

She doesn’t press the issue further, and just like that, the conversation fades into the background.

Our morning rush provides little to no time to dwell on our conversation. Madelina has a knack for multitasking, effortlessly juggling taking orders and brewing coffee. While she manages the front, I remain at the back, focusing on preparing sandwiches for the lunch crowd looming ahead.

Typically, between ten and eleven, there’s a pause in the hustle, a brief moment of calm amid the storm. But today is different. Groups of girls come in, all on summer vacation, with this annoying need to film themselves “for content”—their words, not mine.

Madelina nudges my side playfully, a teasing smile dancing on her lips. “Excuse me, Mr. Woods. The ladies at table four have summoned the hot chef to make a cameo in their video.”

I suppress a groan, pressing my lips together in irritation. “Could you be nice and tell them I’m busy? Or maybe that I have a girlfriend? Anything at all to make this go away.”

“Of course.” Madelina smirks. “But be warned—according to them, they’re riding a wave of virality. You wouldn’t want to be the reason their creator fund goes dry, would you?”

“Their what fund?”

Madelina raises her brows. “Do you even scroll?”

“Scroll what?”

“TikTok.”