The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

to do everything I could to get it. Hence the hefty credit card charge for the designer dress I was carrying in my designer Scoop bag.

It was almost five o’clock. I called Josh to see where he and Katie wanted to meet.

“Let’s go to P.J. Clarke’s. It’s on the corner of Columbus and 63rd. Give us thirty-minutes.”

I left a message on The Waiter’s cell phone telling him where to meet us, and then I walked three blocks uptown. I had some time to kill, so I headed over to the fountain at Lincoln Center to take more photos. I knew I looked like a tourist, but I wanted to document the entire weekend. And hell, I was a tourist. At least for now.

Josh and Katie were already at the bar when I walked in.

“So I totally fucked up my life this morning,” I announced and then promptly ordered a drink.

“What happened?” Josh asked.

I proceeded to tell him and Katie the details of my morning mix-up and how The Waiter and Dalton were now fully aware of each other.

“Damn Sammy,” Josh said. “That’s fucked up. Dalton’s gonna hunt him down and kill him.”

“Who’s Dalton?” Katie asked.

“My ex.”

“He’s a dick,” Josh said. “He’s also six-four and a black belt in karate, so I would never say that to his face.”

“Why do you even care what he thinks if he’s your ex?” Katie said.

“It’s a long story.” I realized I had the perfect opportunity to rehearse my confession for The Waiter. I told Katie everything about Dalton while Josh filled in a few of the more painful memories I’d chosen to leave out. The more I talked, the angrier I got. At myself. For putting up with it for so many years.

After listening to the entire saga, Katie was adamant in her response. “You have to stop enabling him. Why would you let him mess up the good thing you’ve got going on here?”

Josh motioned to the door. “Speaking of the good thing you’ve got going on here.”

The Waiter had just walked in. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that showcased every muscle I’d spent the previous night and most of the morning getting to know intimately. He walked over and gave me a big hug.

We finished a round of drinks at the bar and then grabbed a table for dinner. I ordered a salad. My stomach was still a bit queasy from the earlier conversation. The Waiter didn’t seem the least bit phased by what had happened this morning. He repeatedly held my hand and kissed it throughout dinner, prompting an approving smile from Josh.

After dinner, Katie and Josh headed for the subway while The Waiter and I decided to walk back to my hotel.

“Call me after the interview tomorrow and let me know how it goes,” Josh said. “What time is your flight?”

“Eight-thirty.”

I hugged him and Katie goodbye. I missed them already. New York was starting to feel more like home than Atlanta. And I didn’t want to leave. I especially didn’t want to leave The Waiter.

We started our stroll up Broadway hand-in-hand. The sun was just starting to set and the weather was perfect. Definitely still summer, but with the slightest hint of fall in the air.

“We’ve got about fifteen blocks, Red,” The Waiter stated. “Plenty of time to tell me how you managed to contract the plague again.”

I took a deep breath. And then I told him everything. How we met. How he was my first real love. How we would break up and get back together. How he made me feel like everything was my fault. How he acted the day of my dad’s death. And on and on and on.

The Waiter listened intently the entire time. When we got back to the hotel room, he hugged me.

“I’m so sorry about your dad,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.”

I almost started crying. I hugged him even tighter.

“You know the worst part about all of this?” he asked.

“What?” I looked up at him.

“You said you always get back with him.”

“Not this time. I’m moving on. Literally. To New York. And he would never in a million years move to New York.”

“Good. Now we don’t have to talk about him anymore.”

“We don’t have to talk about anything,” I said. I untucked his t-shirt from his jeans. He smiled and took it off. I kissed his neck, then his chest, then all six of his perfectly defined ab muscles, slowly working my way down until I was on my knees. I started unbuckling his belt.

“I could really, really, get used to this,” he said, looking down at me and running his fingers through my hair. I looked up at him and smiled.

“No more talking.”

CHAPTER 13

◆◆◆

“I’ll wait for you here at Starbucks,” The Waiter said. He was off today, so he accompanied me to my job interview.

“Okay,” I replied.

“You’re going to get it. And did I mention how hot you look in that dress?”

“About a million times since I put it on.”

“Go.” He let go of me and kissed my hand. “Go get it, Red.”

I walked away but couldn’t resist the temptation to turn and look back. He smiled, looking me up and down, and then blew a kiss. I laughed and kept walking. If ever I needed to walk into a job interview with a shitload of confidence, this was the day. I was strutting down 60th Street in my four-and-a-half-inch wooden Chloe sandals. I had purchased them on major sale a while back at Jeffrey in Phipps Plaza. They were a modern version of Candies and another nod to the seventies I hoped Jackie would notice. I was glad I had packed them for my weekend trip.

I entered the building and stepped into the tiny elevator. I pressed the button. It was the slowest elevator ride of my life. With each approaching floor, I became more nervous. I took a deep breath. You got this, Sammy.

The doors opened and