The next day, still feeling a little dizzy from Alex and his sinfully hot kiss, I board the train to my old neighborhood and try not to think too much about what happened at the aquarium. Surely Alex isn't thinking of me as much as I've thought of him this morning.

What does he do on Saturday mornings, anyway? Does he sit in his fabulously decorated living room in that condo of his, drinking coffee in gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, his dark hair tousled? The idea makes my entire body feel warm.

Or does he go out to brunch with his family? He seems to be quite fond of Savannah, his kid sister. Maybe they hang out together when she's in town. Probably he plays golf with his father. He said something about that last night.

As we approach the stop for my old neighborhood, I'm still thinking of the kiss and how it complicated everything. He claimed that he'd only had a couple of one-night stands since he broke up with Rose. Was that true? I mentally chew on this, realizing I have no reason to doubt him.

Last night, after we kissed at the aquarium, he was a total gentleman driving home. He held my hand, drove up to my condo building—where I proceeded to thank him about fifty times for helping me find the place—then walked to the building's door with me.

I'd hoped for another long kiss, but instead, he'd walked me to the elevator, then smacked his palm against his forehead.

"Sorry, I remember your thing about elevators," he'd said.

"It's okay. I'll take the stairs."

A lot of people would've teased me, or said goodbye in the lobby, since the condo's on the second floor. Not Alex. He followed me up the stairs, then outside my door, planted a chaste peck on my cheek.

He didn't even try to worm his way into my apartment, which surprised me a little.

Alex certainly seems like a gentleman.

I ponder this as I exit the train station. A fat drop of rain splats on my forehead and my immediate instinct is to sigh in frustration.

But wait! I can afford an Uber to take me the half mile to Chili's. Duh. There's a bank account with my name on it, containing more than two figures in the balance. This realization lifts my mood, and I decide not to think about Alex while I climb into the hired car. It seems almost decadent to only go such a short distance in the rain.

Along the short drive, I take in everything along the road that I normally walk: the massive chain stores and vast parking lots, the fast food garbage that clings to the curbs, the chaos of suburban sprawl. It looks even more dismal now that it's pouring, and I'm glad I didn't walk.

Part of me feels like I'm the luckiest woman in the world, now that I'm living in a gorgeous downtown condo, with enough money so I don't have to worry about necessities. It would be easy to live in this new world and never look back. But another part feels a bit ashamed, like I didn't work hard enough to earn these blessings—or that everything I'm enjoying right now will be pulled out from under me at a moment's notice.

And that includes Alex Jenkins.

Good lord. Don't think about him in that context. Think about how you're going to survive this restaurant shift, and how you're going to eat some of Ida's homemade cookies later.

I know a lot of people in my position would've quit Chili's on the spot and never returned once Alex made his offer, but not me. I can't leave anyone in the lurch, even a faceless corporation.

The other reason I trekked here from downtown was to see Ida so we can talk about the future of the community garden. I plan on doing that after my five-hour shift, since I'm working the lunch rush today.

The first person I see when I walk to my hostess station at Chili's is Gabe. Great. I'd hoped to avoid his accusing, surly stare. He's lingering at the front desk for reasons I can't fathom. And frankly, I don't care. I ignore him as I grab an erasable marker for the laminated table map.

"Excuse me, I need to get ready for my shift." I slide the map closer.

He shoots a smirk at me. "I'd like to say I'm going to miss your sunny disposition, but I won't."

I narrow my eyes. "What do you mean? Where are you going?"

"This is my last day on the job. Don't miss me too much."

"Good for you, I guess." My tone is flat. I won't miss Gabe, or this job—if I ever work up the courage to quit. That's for sure.

The shift is mercifully quick, and Gabe doesn't give me any grief, even when I give him three tables of two in a row. At three thirty, the end of the shift, I watch as he yanks off his apron and tosses it onto an empty table. He stomps past me and yanks the door open.

His vibe is too weird and angry for me to say any parting words, and I'm glad that my shift is over, as well.

"Yikes," I say to the hostess who's replacing me for the rest of the afternoon, a woman named Maria.

We stand at the hostess desk and watch out the glass front door as Gabe climbs into the passenger seat of a white truck. It roars away.

"He's pissed off because his car broke down," Maria says.

"What?" I'm half distracted and didn't quite follow where she was going with her statement.

"Gabe. He didn't want to quit, but felt he had to. His car died and he doesn't have the money to replace it. His stepdad has been bringing him to work and picking him up, but apparently the stepdad and his mom are getting a divorce, and he won't have a ride. Says he's too far from public transportation."

I gnaw at the inside of my cheek. "That sucks."

The manager approaches and the next ten minutes is a flurry of gossip about Gabe, who apparently also broke up with his girlfriend recently. He's had such a bad run of luck that I feel terrible about being snarky to him.

"Not everyone can be lucky in love like you," Maria points out.

"What do you mean?" I squeak.

"How's she lucky?" the manager asks, a question that I, too, was pondering.

Maria practically doubles over with laughter. "Are you blind? Or do you not see that rock on her finger?"

My eyes zoom to my hand and my breath hitches in my throat. Why am I still wearing the engagement ring?

The manager, a woman in her forties, grabs my hand and whistles. "Whoo-ee. That's some ring. Who's the lucky guy, and does he have an older brother? Or a dad?"

Laughter bubbles through my two coworkers.

"H-he's someone I've been seeing for a while," I stammer, while racking my brain in an effort to figure out if I've ever told anyone here that I was single. Fortunately, I'm a pretty private person and haven't discussed my love life with anyone here.

"Well, congratulations! You'll have to bring him around so we can meet him." The corners of Maria's eyes crinkle. "When's the big day?"

"We haven't set one. Yet. A while. A long while," I reply.

After a round of congratulatory hugs, I slink out the door, feeling conflicted. The fact that I've been working a restaurant shift that would net me a fraction of what this diamond ring cost leaves me feeling . . . gross. Icky. Like I'm selling out the working class or something.

It's stopped raining, but the gray sky remains, giving all this suburban sprawl a tired, dull patina. For a second, I stand outside the restaurant and stare at the ring until I finally slip it off, into my purse. Then I walk away.

For some reason, I can't get my mind off Gabe. I assumed that, because of his decent looks and his ability to earn lots of tips, his life was pretty easy, far more comfortable than my own. Now that I know otherwise, I feel terrible. Maybe I should've been kinder to him.

Instead of taking an Uber to Ida's house, I walk the mile to my old neighborhood. With every step, I'm starting to seriously doubt the choice I've made with Alex.

Or maybe it's Alex and his entire lifestyle that I'm uncomfortable with. He's too rich, too cavalier with money, and way too different than me. No matter what I wear or where I live, I'll never be like him.