The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

haven’t even had our ICQ chats. He just started his last semester of grad school, so he’s been pretty busy.”

“So after this, he’s done with his MBA?”

“Yep. He and Nick are scouting locations for their gym. They already have investors interested.”

“Flying trapeze Nick?”

I nodded.

“You have to take me to that show when I come up.”

“Of course. You will love it!”

We continued the drive, listening to my new Christina Aguilera CD. I bought it Tuesday when I was getting the photos developed.

“You’re gonna wear this song out fast,” Dana said, referring to “Genie in a Bottle.” I had it on repeat.

“This song is liquid sex. And I kinda feel bad saying that because isn’t she like a Mouseketeer or something?”

“She was. I doubt she is now.”

“So was Britney Spears,” I said. “Must be something in the water at Disney.”

I dropped Dana off at her house and went inside to say hello. Her mom and dad were like second parents to me. I had spent so many nights in this house. Every time I walked inside, I was flooded with memories of sleepovers, Rick Springfield and Duran Duran posters, and John Hughes movie marathons. It was like stepping back into my childhood.

After my brief visit, Dana walked me out to the car.

“Don’t forget you’re my wingman tomorrow night,” I said. “I’ll pick you up around six and we’ll drive back to the city. Christine is going to meet us for dinner at Surin.” Christine was one of our other friends from grammar school.

“I can’t believe you’re meeting Dalton.”

“I can’t believe he agreed to meet me. He’s really pissed. But I have to tell him about this in person.”

“I still say you don’t owe him anything, Sam.”

“I know. But I need to clear the air between us before I move. I mean, I’ve been with him since I was old enough to drink. And I’m southern. I feel like I should send him a thank-you card or something.”

“Thank you for fucking up my life for the last ten years? Yeah, I don’t think Hallmark makes that one.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hugged her. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When I got to my mom’s house, she had just ordered pizza. We always had pizza when I came home. And then we would watch a movie and I would fall asleep on the couch.

“So can’t you just move into Josh’s building so he can look after you? Surely there’s an apartment available there.” My mom firmly believed that a woman needed a man to take care of her. It was a Southern thing. And I was her baby. My two sisters were a lot older than me, and both of them had gotten married before leaving home. I had no intention of ever getting married and was the only one in the family that had ever lived alone. It drove my poor mom crazy. My dad, on the other hand, always knew I could take care of myself.

“It’s not like that Mom. Apartments are really hard to find in Manhattan.”

“Why can’t you just live with Josh?”

“Um, because he only has a one-bedroom and that would be weird.”

“I just don’t understand what’s so great about New York. But I do see how happy you are, and that’s all that matters. That and your safety.”

“I know Mom,” I assured her. “I promise I will take all safety precautions.”

The pizza arrived, and we spent the rest of the night watching Practical Magic. I fell asleep on the couch again. My mother covered me up and tucked me in as she always did. I slept like a rock.

Saturday morning we met my sisters at Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Another tradition. My sisters and I were trying to stick to as much of a routine as we could with Mom since Dad died. She’d been doing pretty well since the funeral, but we were all worried about her living by herself. My dad did everything for her. She had a full-time job working as a nurse, which she loved, but Dad still did everything he could to spoil her. They had been married since 1956 and Mom told us shortly after he died that she had no intention of ever getting remarried or dating again. “Your father was the only man for me. Period.”

My parents’ enduring relationship was one of the reasons that I always tried so hard to make it work with Dalton. It wasn’t long until our breakfast conversation turned to him.

“What did Dalton say when you told him you were moving to New York?” Wendy, my oldest sister, asked.

“I haven’t told him yet. I’m telling him tonight.”

“I thought you weren’t seeing him anymore.” Leigh, my other sister, chimed in.

“It’s not a date or anything. I just wanted to tell him in person. I’m meeting him at The Dark Horse. Dana and Christine are going with me.”

“Good,” Wendy said. “He’s not going to be happy.”

“You know he called me a couple of weeks ago.” My mom casually dropped that into the conversation.

“What?” All three of us turned and looked at her.

“Dalton called you?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Why? What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Mrs. St. Clair, I love your daughter. How do I get her back?’”

“What did you say?” I was stunned. My mother could barely stand Dalton.

“I said, ‘I know Sammy loves you Dalton. But you always seem to hurt her. And now all she wants to do is move to New York.’”

“You should have said, ‘You don’t get my daughter back,’” Wendy said. “I’ve never gotten over the fact that when you wanted to be an actor, he said he couldn’t plan a future with you because you didn’t have a 401K.”

“You always bring that up, Wendy.”

“Well, that particular nugget just sticks in my craw.”

I turned back to my mom. “I can’t believe he called you.”

“I have to admit, I felt sorry for him,” she said.

I smiled at her. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. The Dalton chapter of my life is officially over.”

“Thank god!” The three of them agreed.

“When you