15-05-2021-052358It-Ends-with-Us

Shit.
The waiter tries to cover for Atlas’s hasty retreat by smiling and
showing way too many teeth. “Enjoy your dessert,” he says, scuffling
off to the kitchen.
“Bummer,” Allysa says. “We find a new favorite restaurant and the
chef is an asshole.”
Ryle laughs. “Yeah, but the assholes are the best ones. Gordon
Ramsay?”
“Good point,” Marshall says.
I put my hand on Ryle’s arm. “Bathroom,” I tell him.
He nods as I scoot out of the booth, and Marshall says, “What
about Wolfgang Puck? You think he’s an asshole?”
I walk across the restaurant, head down, fast paced. As soon as I get
into the familiar hallway, I keep going. I push open the door to the
women’s restroom and then turn around and lock it.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
The look in his eye. The anger in his jaw.
I’m relieved he walked away, but I’m half-convinced he’s probably
going to be waiting outside the restaurant when we leave, ready to
kick Ryle’s ass.
I breathe in my nose, out my mouth, wash my hands, repeat the
breathing. Once I’m more calm, I dry my hands on a towel.
I’ll just go back out there and tell Ryle I’m not feeling well. We’ll
leave and we’ll never come back. They all think the chef is an asshole,
so that can be my excuse.
I unlock the door, but I don’t pull it open. It starts pushing open
from the other side, so I step back. Atlas steps inside the bathroom
with me and locks the door. His back rests against the door as he
stares at me, focused on the cut near my eye.
“What happened?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
His eyes are narrow, still ice blue but somehow burning with fire.
“You’re lying, Lily.”
I muster enough of a smile to get me by. “It was an accident.”
Atlas laughs, but then his face falls flat. “Leave him.”
Leave him?