Chapter 169 The Edge of a Grudge
Chapter 169 The Edge of a Grudge
Mila’s POV
The diner smelled like grease, coffee, and something sugary that had probably been sitting in a warmer since noon. The windows were fogged from the heaters, and the neon sign outside flickered as if it were struggling to stay alive.
Caleb held the door open for Eliza, smiling as if he’d practiced it. She beamed back at him, cheeks pink from the cold and excitement. She’d always been that way — hopeful, eager, ready to believe the best in people.
I stepped inside behind her, Nate at my shoulder. The warmth hit immediately, thick and heavy. A waitress waved us toward a booth near the back.
Caleb slid in beside Eliza.
I sat across from them.
Nate sat beside me.
The waitress handed us menus. Caleb thanked her with a bright smile, but the moment she turned away, his expression dropped into something flat and bored.
I noticed.
Eliza didn’t.
She was too busy talking about the movie, her hands moving as she described her favorite scene. Caleb nodded along, leaning in like he was hanging on every word.
But when the waitress returned with water, he didn’t look at her. Didn’t say thank you. Didn’t pause his sentence.
Just kept talking.
Nate’s posture tightened beside me — not visibly, not dramatically, but enough that I felt it. His shoulder brushed mine, solid and tense.
I nudged him gently under the table.
He didn’t look at me.
He was watching Caleb.
Eliza finally stopped talking long enough to take a sip of water. “So,” she said, smiling at Caleb, “what do you usually get here?”
“Oh, everything’s good,” he said. “It’s cheap. That’s the best part.”
He said it as if it were a joke.
The waitress came back to take our orders. Caleb didn’t look up from his menu until she cleared her throat. When he did, he gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yeah, uh, burger. Fries. Milkshake. Vanilla.”
She wrote it down.
Eliza ordered next, polite and warm.
I ordered a grilled cheese.
The waitress nodded. “Anything else?”
“That’s all,” he said.
Caleb snorted. “Man, you’re really committed to the brooding thing.”
Eliza elbowed him lightly. “Caleb.”
“What?” he said, laughing. “I’m just talking.”
Nate didn’t react.
He didn’t blink.
He didn’t breathe any differently.
He just watched Caleb.
Eliza didn’t notice.
I took a sip of water, trying to ignore the knot forming in my stomach. Caleb wasn’t awful. He wasn’t rude in a dramatic way. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t anything big.
He was just… off.
Little things.
Small cracks.
The kind of things Eliza wouldn’t see because she didn’t want to.
She needed this to be good.
She needed him to be normal.
I wasn’t going to take that from her.
“So,” Caleb said, leaning back, “you guys live together, right?”
Eliza nodded. “Yeah. Mila stays with Nate.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Penthouse life. Must be nice.”
Eliza laughed awkwardly. “It’s not like that.”
He shrugged. “I mean… it kind of is. Most people don’t end up in a penthouse unless there’s a reason.”
The implication hung there — obvious, sharp, intentional.
Nate’s jaw tightened.
I nudged him under the table.
He didn’t move.
Caleb turned to me. “So what’s that like? Living with a guy who probably has a personal chef?”
I blinked. “We cook our own meals. Nate’s actually a great cook.”
Caleb snorted. “Right.”
Eliza frowned. “Caleb—”
He waved her off. “I’m kidding.”
He wasn’t.
Nate didn’t react.
He didn’t blink.
He didn’t breathe any differently.
He just watched Caleb.
The waitress returned with our drinks. Caleb didn’t thank her. Eliza did. I did. Nate didn’t say anything, but he looked at her — really looked — and she flushed slightly before walking away.
Caleb didn’t notice.
He was too busy stirring his milkshake with a straw like he was bored.
Eliza tried again. “So, um… what did you think of the movie?”
“It was good,” he said. “A little pretentious. But good.”
He glanced at Nate. “Probably too indie for you.”
Nate didn’t respond.
Caleb waited.
Nothing.
He looked away, annoyed.
I took a slow breath. “Eliza,” I said softly, “do you want to go to the bathroom with me?”
She blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
Caleb smiled at her. “Don’t fall in.”
She laughed like it was funny.
It wasn’t.
I slid out of the booth. Eliza followed. Nate’s eyes flicked to me — a question, a warning, something — but he didn’t say anything.
We walked toward the back hallway, past the kitchen window where a cook flipped burgers on a greasy grill. The bathroom door creaked when I pushed it open.
Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly. The mirror was smudged. The tile was cold.
Eliza leaned against the sink. “Okay,” she said. “Tell me.”
I blinked. “Tell you what?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re doing the face.”
“My face is neutral.”
“It’s never neutral.”
I sighed. “Eliza…”
She crossed her arms. “Just say it.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to crush the fragile hope she’d been carrying for weeks. But I also wasn’t going to lie.
“He has a chip on his shoulder,” I said quietly. “About people like Nate. About… the elite.”
She frowned. “Mila, you had a chip on your shoulder, too.”
I froze.
She didn’t say it cruelly.
She said it as if it were a fact.
“That’s how you ended up with Nate,” she continued. “You hated everything he represented. You thought he was just another privileged jerk. And you were wrong.”
I swallowed, then let out a small laugh. “Was I?”
Eliza blinked — then snorted, covering her mouth. “Okay, fair. He can still act like a jerk sometimes.”
“Exactly,” I said, nudging her shoulder. “So maybe I wasn’t completely wrong.”
The tension eased for a moment. She stepped forward and hugged me, her arms tight around my waist. I hugged her back, resting my chin lightly on her shoulder.
“I’m giving him a chance,” I murmured. “I promise.”
She pulled back, relief softening her face. “Thank you.”
“But,” I added, “he did take a jab at me.”
Her expression sharpened. “What do you mean?”
I leaned against the sink. “When he brought up the penthouse. He wasn’t just making conversation. He was implying I’m only with Nate because of the money.”
Eliza’s mouth fell open.
Her cheeks flushed. “That’s not okay.”
“I know.”
She paced in a small circle, braid swinging behind her. “He doesn’t get to say that. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know Nate. He doesn’t know anything.”
I watched her, letting her work through it.
She stopped, facing me again. “I’m sorry he said that.”
“You didn’t do it,” I said gently.
“No, but I brought him here,” she said. “I wanted this to be good. I wanted him to be good.”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “Eliza… you’re allowed to want things. You’re allowed to try.”
She swallowed hard. “I just don’t want to be wrong again.”
“You’re not wrong for hoping,” I said. “And I’m not going to take that from you.”
She nodded, eyes bright. “Okay.”