Iva lifted an eyebrow. "None of the residents come around the bridge during the day. Nobody will ever know you were here."
A harried-looking father surrounded by four kids slapped down a large bill.
"Five bags of fries---and plenty of ketchup."
While Alina disappeared to the back of the line, people of all sizes, shapes, and ages mingled about the area, buying drinks, food, or hiking down to the bridge along the tree-clustered pathways.
Iva handed over white cardboard boxes of golden crispy fries, blinked against the sweat threatening to drip into her eyes, and tried not to think about the reality of what her life had become.
She was supposed to be on her honeymoon in the arms of Noah. Enjoying the beach, endless piña coladas, breathtaking sunsets, and cheek-to-cheek dancing in the evening while tropical perfume spiced the air.
Thinking about her honeymoon was surreal, but the ache in her heart was much too vivid. A hot ball of grief that would last the rest of her life. Iva had finally stopped responding to Noah's text messages and his "apology".
What was there to say? He didn't get it.That was the part that hurt the most. Despite the fact that the wound was still fresh, Iva was coming to the realization that she wasn't as important to Noah as she wanted to be-as she should be. Unable to reconcile any of it, Iva mindlessly poured hot, greasy, salty fries into paper baskets, handing them to the next customer with an accompanying wad of napkins.
The line finally began to dwindle as her mother set the last wire basket into the deep fryer and stood back, a roll of sweat making its way down her brow. Iva glanced up at the final customer, a man just a few years older than herself, and alone, without a noisy family entourage. "At last, " she murmured.
His mouth curved into a smile. Is it that bad?"
Iva's face flamed. "You heard me, eh?"
"If it helps, I do empathize. Gotta be tough slinging fries on a hot day in June in an even hotter truck with fryers and ovens going."
He pulled out his wallet, counting out bills. A black camera bag was slung over his left shoulder-broad shoulders, Iva couldn't help noticing. His build was like a professional baseball player; a trim waist in a steamrolled khaki-green slacks with a pullover jersey shirt showing off bulging biceps.
Iva wrenched her eyes away. She had to stop thinking about honeymoons and sexual relations everything she was now missing. This guy was just another tourist taking pictures of the Vancouver County famous bridge. But her eyes kept roving over his physique in appraisal. He had a hot face, too, and a straight nose unlike Noah's where he'd broken it in high school playing football. Photographer guy also had eyes that made her feel like she was staring into the forest. Green as grass, with speckles of gold; but as grey as the seas during the midst of a storm.
Iva chided herself and stared at his camera bag. An awfully nice one for a tourist. Most people used their cell phones these days to snap pictures on vacation. He was more than an amateur. Maybe she should introduce him to Lina.
"Seasoned or regular?" Iva asked, poised over the counter.