16. Maybe Not Ever

The kitchen buzzed with the usual morning rush, and I moved between the stove and the counter, plating pancakes and eggs and pouring syrup.

And pretending not to notice Cast sitting at the counter again.

He'd shown up like clockwork for two weeks, always in the same spot, ordering the same thing.

Pancakes with whipped topping and fruit. I hated that it reminded me of when we were together, but I didn't show it.

I couldn't. Not in front of him.

The worst part wasn't his silent presence, it was the tips. He left outrageous amounts every morning, more than the diner earned daily. At first, I refused them and told the waitress to give them back or keep them herself, but Castor made it impossible to refuse.

I ended up taking the money, using it to buy things for the baby. Diapers, clothes, toys. It felt like child support before the baby was even born.

I tried to ignore him, focusing on the orders in front of me, but the stress of seeing him every day was eating away at me.

My body