Page 9 of You Again

“What brought you here?” he says.

“Is Carlos your waiter?” I ask at the same time.

My fingers around my book pinch until my knuckles turn white. “What was that?”

“I just asked what brought you to Tesoro.”

“Oh.” I pinch my brows together. I haven’t been asked this question. Until this very moment, I’ve avoided meeting new people, you know, in case they aren’t all that new. I see Fran and Grammy, who I talked into moving to Tesoro with me. “Well.” Since retrograde amnesia plus debilitating panic attacks doesn’t roll off the tongue, I give Zev a half truth. “A breakup.”

He squints like he’s seeing through my white lie. Am I that terrible of a liar? “A breakup?”

Swallowing past the ache in my throat, I attempt to smile at him. “Among a few other things. I’ve lived in Reno for years. But my ex still lives there.”

Zev exhales audibly, his brow still wrinkled in question. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I needed a change of scenery. I needed to be in a place where I didn’t really know anyone.” Isn’t that the truth! There’s too many strangers who know me in Reno. And back home, in California, there’s no Fran or Grammy. I grind my teeth. “You know?”

“Sure. You need… time.”

A delirious laugh titters from my mouth. “You have no idea. I need a whole lot of time.”

“What did you ask before?”

I peer around at the crowded patio. “Is Carlos your waiter?”

“Carlos?”

“Short, Hispanic, always wears a black bowtie, though none of the other waiters do.”

Zev nods with my description. “Yeah. He is my waiter.”

“Perfect. I have a book for his granddaughter.”

Zev’s eyes drop to my book. “Return to Saigon. The perfect combination of culture and entertainment.”

I can’t help my smile now. I swear I’ve said the exact same thing before. “You’ve read it?”

“Yes. You—” He scratches his neck, nervous vibes still oozing from his essence. It’s sort of lovely and refreshing. Who knew I liked nerves? “Have you?”

“Yes. But I’m kind of surprised to hear that you”—my hand stretches out, motioning to him—“are into middle grade novels.” I breathe out a laugh. “Not that I know you. At all.” But I’m thinking of the books I’ve seen him bring into the café. Brothers of Ash and Iron isn’t exactly a middle grade read.

He exhales a quiet laugh. “A friend of mine made me read it.”

I lift one brow. “Smart friend.”

“You’ve always got a book, too,” he says, grinning. And it’s a great grin.

“It’s my thing.”

His fingers curl and uncurl. He pulls in one quick breath. “You should go to Bennett’s Book Bar. I mean, assuming you haven’t. You said you’re new to town.” He swallows, and I almost want to laugh at his jitters. “If you haven’t been, I think you’d love it. Just a cozy little book shop downtown.”

“I have not been,” I say with ease. Maybe I like Zev’s nerves because they make mine feel less peculiar. “I’ll have to check it out. Thanks.” I press my lips together and sit in the silence for only a second. I tap my book and peer around the patio for my waiter friend. “I brought it for Carlos’s granddaughter, Partida. She’s eleven, and she’s laid up with a broken leg. I think this will help.”

“Oof.” His nose wrinkles in a cringe. “Broken leg. I know all about that. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

“You broke your leg?” I don’t remember seeing him in a cast.

“Yeah.” He fidgets in his seat. I’m going to start calling him ‘Jittery Zev.’ “Several months ago. There was a major fracture to my tibia. I had surgery, then I was in a cast for six weeks, and a boot for six more. But it’s still not quite right.”