|13| Restaurants and Disappointment

Monday afternoons dragged longer than they were supposed to.

But as I crossed the street toward Antonia’s grill, my steps slowed without my permission. The bell from Newton Prep still rang faintly in my ears, a reminder that yesterday hadn’t been a dream. The stadium lights. The roar of the crowd. The way one boy had found me in a sea of faces like I’d been standing alone under a spotlight.

I tightened my grip on my bag and exhaled. Work was work. 

By the time I pushed through the swinging doors of the restaurant, the familiar warmth wrapped around me like a second skin. Garlic, olive oil, and something sweet lingered in the air. Antonia looked up from behind the counter and smiled, the kind of smile that settled your nerves without asking questions.

“Querida!” she shouted excitedly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Good to see you. How was your weekend?”

“Pretty exhausting,” I sighed. “Newton Prep is nothing like my old school.”

Her eyes softened. Antonia had that way about her. She was gentle and attentive, as though every word mattered. She signaled me to follow her into the kitchen, where Alfredo was already moving like a man at war with vegetables.

Antonia and Alfredo ran the restaurant together, seamlessly. They were warm with me in a way that felt personal, almost protective. I later learned that their daughter had passed away from osteosarcoma years ago. Somehow, instead of hollowing them out, the loss had made them kinder. They said I reminded them of her.

“Buenas tardes, chef Alfredo,” I greeted.

“Ah! Beautiful Lisa!” Alfredo grinned, turning off the faucet. “I heard your lacrosse team beat Crest Falls.”

“We destroyed them,” I leaned against the counter. “I even caught one of their players crying.”

He laughed, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Lisa, get changed. People will start coming in soon.” Antonia said, already moving toward the dining area.

 I hurried down to the basement, swapped my uniform, and returned just as Alfredo began chopping cured ham. 

“What’s on the menu today?” I asked, rubbing my palms together.

“Paella and churros.”

I tied my apron with enthusiasm. “That sounds delicious, Chef.”

“Go now, before Antonia realizes you’re still back here.” 

The restaurant was already filling when I walked out of the kitchen. Wooden beams overhead, tables spilling into the terrace where the lake shimmered under the sandstone bridge. Cutlery clinked as voices blended in the background. Alfredo shouted something in Spanish from the kitchen. 

I took my first order. Then my second.

And then I saw him. 

He sat at one of the outdoor tables. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped over the back of his chair. Across from him sat a girl dressed in a body-hugging leather dress. Her red lips curved in a knowing smile.

Ruby Steele. The gothic queen of Newton Prep. 

My stomach dropped. What was she doing with Dean Richardson?

Of course. The overthinker in me did the calculations, and it quickly dawned on me that this was a date.

I considered turning around and asking Antonia if I could do the dishes instead. I also contemplated faking an illness or simply evaporating.

But Antonia caught my eye and gestured gently. So I continued walking.

Each step felt louder than the last, my shoes too thin against the stone floor. I kept my gaze down until I reached the table.

“Welcome to Antonia's Grill!” I said, voice steady by sheer force of will.

Ruby looked up first. 

Dean followed.

His smile faltered. It didn't completely disappear but was interrupted, as if he were suddenly unsure what to do with it. His posture straightened. He just stared at me, as if recalibrating reality.

I was embarrassed because he’d seen me yesterday.

“Annalise,” he said, before he seemed to realize he’d spoken aloud. How did he still remember my name?

Ruby’s head snapped toward him. “You know her?”

I swallowed. “Can I take your order?”

Dean cleared his throat. He glanced at Ruby, then back at me, a faint crease appearing between his brows. “Yeah. Uh—sorry.”

Ruby leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing slightly. “This is interesting.” She said, evidently amused.

Dean picked up the menu but didn’t really look at it. “We will take whatever you recommend.”

Ruby smiled slowly, slipping her fingers into his. “The best thing you’ve got,” she added.

Dean didn’t look at her.

He was still looking at me.

And for the first time since I’d met him, his confidence didn’t feel unbreakable. It felt human. I nodded and turned away before my face betrayed me.

As I walked back inside, my heart thudded painfully against my ribs. It wasn't from longing, but from something sharper. Disappointment maybe. 

Yesterday, he’d made me feel seen. Today, he made me feel foolish for believing it meant anything at all.

And somewhere between the clatter of dishes and Alfredo’s laughter, I realized something quietly devastating. Dean Richardson hadn’t been embarrassed because he was with another girl.

He was embarrassed because I was the one who caught him.