Choosing Happy

Chapter Ten

As soon as I arrive at The Waffle Haus, I know something isn't right. There's nothing outwardly disturbed but I can feel that something is off.

My key slides right into the door and it opens as easily as it does every morning but when I step inside, I notice my files are wrong. Rachel is very type-A and keeps the books organized meticulously. The accounting records are always filed in the red accordion case on the right side of the extra to-go containers.

Today, they're switched. I'm not one to easily panic so I try to keep as calm as possible when I begin setting up for the morning. While I turn the ovens on and get the batter mixed, I call Rachel on speaker phone.

She picks up on the third ring, an obvious sign she's busy. "Good morning, lover boy."

"Good morning, smart ass." I push open the shutters and am relieved to find no one waiting on the other side. "I just have a quick question for you."

"What's up?"

"Do you remember if you swapped the location of the accordion file case on the shelf over the weekend?" I hear the anxiety creeping into my voice but I can't stop it from happening.

She laughs. "You're joking right? Why would I do something like that? It doesn't make any sense to put the files we use daily somewhere less accessible than the containers we only restock weekly. Did you have a little too much fun this weekend and now you're not firing on all cylinders? You know I wouldn't—"

"Okay, okay." I lean into the counter and scrub my hand over my head, cutting off her rant while I still can. "Sorry I asked. I just thought something looked different. My mistake."

"Well, if anything is different, you must have moved it because everything was perfectly correct when I closed up last night."

"Thanks, Rach." I sigh deeply then look up to see a customer waiting. "Gotta run. I'll see you tomorrow."

The little voice in the back of my mind tells me to freak out and rush home to check on Joey. But the rational part reminds me he is safely tucked away in my bed, covered in the evidence of our early morning activities and hopefully dreaming about his reward for being good.

Again, trying to do things the right way and not the way I usually do, which is always wrong when it comes to relationships, I go about my morning. After the first waffle is served, business doesn't slow down until well after lunch. I finally have a break and call the house. The phone rings five times before the answering machine picks up.

"Hey, little duck. It's me. If you're around, pick up." I wait a good thirty seconds before realizing he probably can't hear it in the den if he's watching TV or playing video games. "Well, you're probably busy so I'll see you around six thirty."

Not being able to get in touch with him wears on me. I wish we would have picked up a damn phone for him when we were shopping.

I'm silently berating myself when I hear a throat clear in the window. Looking up, I see the prick himself staring at me.

My hands naturally curl into fists when I see that punk ass smirk on his face. I want to reach out the window and wrap my fingers around his throat then force him through the nine-inch opening, skinning him on the way in. Then I'd really punish him for what he did to Joey. But at the thought of Joey's sweet face on my pillow, I take a deep breath and lean into the open window.

"Can I help you?" I try for cordial but I'm sure it comes out as annoyed.

"I think you have something of mine." His hard stare doesn't waver as he bores holes through me with his jet black eyes. "And I'd like it back."