The first time Tara Miller noticed the waitress smiling at Scott, she told herself not to make a scene.
They were sitting in a corner booth at a bright little restaurant in Austin, Texas, the kind of place with hanging plants in the windows, chalkboard specials behind the bar, and servers who called everyone honey even when they were too tired to mean it. It was early Friday evening, just before the dinner rush, and Tara had been trying to enjoy herself. She had worn her favorite olive-green dress, the one her best friend Stacy swore made her eyes look lighter, and she had even curled her hair before Scott picked her up.
For the first fifteen minutes, everything felt normal. Scott reached across the table and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles while they talked about his office, her new client at the bakery, and the movie they might see later if dinner did not run too long. Then the waitress came over, young, pretty, slim in that effortless way Tara had never felt in her own body, with a high ponytail and a smile that seemed to arrive already aimed at Scott.
“I’ll do the Caesar salad,” Tara said, closing her menu.
“Great choice,” the waitress said brightly. “That’s what I always order.” Then her eyes slid to Scott, and her smile widened. “And for you, the bacon cheeseburger, is that right?”
“Yep,” Scott said. “You got it.”
“Perfect.” The waitress touched the edge of the table, then brushed two fingers lightly against Scott’s shoulder as she turned away. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”
The touch was so small that anyone else might have missed it. Tara did not.
She watched the waitress walk toward the kitchen, hips swaying between tables, ponytail bouncing like a ribbon. Something hot and familiar tightened in Tara’s chest. She hated that feeling. She hated how quickly it arrived, how it took over her body before reason had a chance to speak.
“What was that?” Tara asked.
Scott looked up from his water glass. “What do you mean?”
Tara leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Scott, she was clearly flirting with you.”
“No, she wasn’t.” He said it gently, like he was trying not to laugh because he knew laughing would hurt her feelings.
“Are you kidding me?” Tara’s voice sharpened anyway. “Did you not see the way she put her hand on your shoulder? And the way she was smiling at you?”
“Come on, babe. She’s just being nice. I’m sure there’s nothing behind it.”
“You don’t know girls like I do,” Tara said. “They can be really conniving.”
Scott sat back, studying her face. He was handsome in the quiet way that made women look twice and then pretend they had not. Six feet tall, athletic, with dark blond hair that never needed much help and blue eyes that made strangers more patient with him than they were with other people. Tara loved him, but loving him sometimes felt like standing beside a lit storefront window and wondering how long before someone noticed she did not belong in the display.
“Even if she was,” Scott said, reaching for her hand again, “it doesn’t matter. I have you. You’re all I want.”
Tara wanted to believe him. She wanted to let those words land and stay. But the waitress returned too quickly, still smiling, still somehow brighter when she faced Scott.
“Quick question,” the waitress said. “Did you want chicken with your salad?”
“Is that an additional charge?” Tara asked.
“Normally it is,” the waitress said, still looking at Scott, “but I’ll make an exception for you.”
Scott blinked, confused. Tara’s fingers curled against her napkin.
The waitress finally looked at her. “And for your sister, did you want fries with that?”
Tara stared at her. “I’m not his sister.”
“Oh.” The waitress made a little face, as if she had stepped on something sticky. “I’m sorry. Assistant?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Scott said, firmer now.
The waitress’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh. Wow. Never would have guessed.” She glanced down at Tara’s body for half a second too long before looking back at Scott. “Anyway, fries with the burger?”
“Yeah,” Scott said, his voice clipped. “Fries.”
Tara did not speak again until they left the restaurant. Scott complained about the waitress twice, said he should have asked for a manager, said they would never eat there again if Tara did not want to. But by the time they reached his truck, Tara had gone quiet in a way that scared even herself.
The salad had tasted fine. She could not remember eating it.
On the drive home, Scott glanced over at her after nearly ten minutes of silence. “Tara, talk to me.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
Outside, Austin blurred past in neon signs, traffic lights, and glowing windows. A couple crossed the street laughing, the woman thin and pretty in jeans that looked made for her, her boyfriend’s arm thrown around her shoulders like claiming her was effortless.
Scott parked near a coffee shop because Tara had said earlier that she wanted dessert. He killed the engine but did not get out right away.
“If I ask you something,” Tara said, staring through the windshield, “will you be honest with me?”
“Always.”
She swallowed. “Do you ever wish you were with a skinny girl?”
Scott turned toward her immediately. “No. Are you kidding me?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He reached across the console and took her hand. “I’m with you. I love you.”
“I know, but if you had the opportunity to be with one of those other girls, would you?” Her voice got smaller. “I don’t know. Cheat on me?”
Scott’s face shifted from concern to disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”
Tara did not answer.
“Right?” he repeated softly.
She looked down at their hands. His thumb was moving over hers again, patient and steady, the same way he always touched her when she was spiraling.
“Babe,” he said, “I have no interest in being with anyone other than you. If I did, I would tell you. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”
Tara nodded, but tears had started pressing behind her eyes.
“You have to trust me,” Scott said. “Because if we don’t have trust, then we really don’t have anything.”
His phone rang before she could respond. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Jake. Is it okay if I take this?”
Tara forced a smile. “I’m going to get a coffee. You want anything?”
“You know what I like.”
She stepped out before he could see her cry.
Inside the coffee shop, Tara ordered two drinks and a pastry she did not want. Then she carried everything to a table near the back and called Stacy.
Stacy answered on the second ring. “Girl, why do you sound like you’re about to either cry or commit a felony?”
“Other than people continuing to stare at us and the waitress flirting with Scott, I’m great.”
“Oh, that’s so annoying. Are you okay?”
Tara looked toward the window. Scott stood outside near the truck, smiling at something Jake was saying through the phone. Even from across the glass, he looked like someone people wanted to talk to.
“It’s just hard,” Tara said. “I feel like I’m dating someone way out of my league. He’s built, attractive, and I’m over here looking like this.”
“Hey. No. Stop that.” Stacy’s voice became serious. “You are being way too hard on yourself. You are beautiful.”
“Not like those girls.”
“Who cares if you’re not a size zero?” Stacy said. “Scott loves you because you’re you.”
“I get this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that he might leave me or cheat on me.”
“Listen to me. Scott is a great guy. He would never do anything like that.”
“But everywhere we go, women try to talk to him. What happens when I’m not around?”
“You just have to trust him. What else are you going to do? This isn’t an episode of How to Catch a Cheater where everything is set up already.”
Tara froze.
Stacy heard the silence. “Tara.”
“You’re a genius.”
“No. No, I am not. I regret speaking.”
“What if I set something up?” Tara whispered, leaning closer to the phone. “Not anything crazy. Just enough to know.”
“You are not going to hire some random girl to flirt with your boyfriend.”
“I just need peace of mind.”