The Waitress Who Tried to Steal Her Man

Tasha returned to the table just as the main course arrived.

She could have left the plates with another server. Denise had offered to take over, sensing the tension and hoping to prevent a scene. But Tasha refused.

“I've got it,” she said.

“You've got a problem,” Denise replied under her breath.

Tasha ignored her.

She carried two plates of steak and roasted vegetables toward Marcus and Nia, moving carefully through the crowded dining room. When she reached their table, she placed Marcus's plate in front of him first.

“Medium rare, just like you ordered.””

“Thank you,” Marcus said.

Tasha leaned down slightly.

“Anything else you need, just ask for me.””

Then she placed Nia's plate on the table.

“Here you go.””

No smile. No warmth. No attempt to hide the difference in her treatment of them.

Nia stared at her for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said.

Tasha had already turned back to Marcus.

“Be careful. The plate is hot.””

“I can see that.””

“Wouldn't want you hurting those beautiful hands.””

Marcus slowly put down his fork.

The pianist continued playing, and a waiter at the next table laughed at something a customer had said. Around them, dinner carried on as if nothing unusual were happening.

But at their table, the atmosphere had changed.

Marcus looked directly at Tasha.

“Is there a reason you keep making personal comments to me?””

Tasha blinked.

“I'm being nice.””

“No. You're making comments that have nothing to do with our meal.””

Her cheeks warmed.

“I don't know what you're talking about.””

“Then let's make it simple. We're here to have dinner. Please treat us like any other customers.””

For a second, Tasha looked genuinely stunned.

She had expected Nia to complain. She had expected Marcus to laugh or brush her behavior aside. She hadn't expected him to call her out so calmly and so clearly.

The rejection landed harder because he hadn't raised his voice.

He didn't need to.

“Fine,” Tasha said.

She turned sharply and walked away.

Nia watched her go.

“Wow.””

Marcus picked up his fork.

“What?””

“You just shut that down without making a whole production out of it.””

“Should I have made a production?””

“No.”” Nia shook her head, smiling a little.

“I just wasn't expecting you to be so direct.””

He shrugged.

“I don't like disrespecting people, but I don't like letting people disrespect you, either.””

That answer warmed her more than the candlelight between them.

She reached over and brushed her thumb against his knuckles.

“That's why I love you.””

Marcus smiled.

“And that's why I'm trying to get through dinner before your steak gets cold.””

She laughed, and the tension eased.

For a while, they ate peacefully. Marcus told her about a meeting at work, and Nia described an idea she had for expanding her small event-planning business. He asked questions, remembered the names of her potential clients, and offered to help her review the budget.

Tasha saw all of it.

She watched from behind a partition, pretending to organize reservation slips. Every time Marcus laughed at something Nia said, irritation rose in her chest.

It wasn't simply that he had rejected her.

It was that he seemed genuinely happy to be with Nia.

He didn't glance around the restaurant searching for attention. He didn't check whether other women were looking at him. He didn't seem to need the approval Tasha had spent years learning how to give and withhold.

He was content.

And that made him difficult to manipulate.

Tasha picked up a stack of menus and carried them toward the table beside theirs, taking the opportunity to pass close enough to catch their conversation.

“Your business sounds exciting,” Marcus was saying.

“It is,” Nia replied.

“But I'm nervous about taking the next step.””

“You've been planning this for two years. You're ready.””

“What if it doesn't work?””

“Then we'll figure out what went wrong and try again.””

Nia laughed softly.

“You make everything sound so easy.””

“Not everything. Just the things worth fighting for.””

He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Nia's expression changed. Her smile became smaller, more intimate, the kind she rarely showed anyone else.

Tasha stopped walking.

For one brief moment, she felt something she hadn't expected.

Envy.

Not envy of Marcus's suit or watch. Not even envy of the attention he could have given her.

She envied the ease between them.

Nia didn't have to perform for him. She didn't have to lean across a table or invent excuses to touch his arm. She didn't have to fight for a moment of his attention.

She already had it.

Tasha's fingers tightened around the menus.

Then she remembered where she was and forced a smile back onto her face.

She was not going to stand there feeling inferior to a woman who hadn't done anything to her.

She would make Nia uncomfortable.

That was all.

When she returned to the table to clear their empty side plates, Tasha deliberately reached across Nia rather than approaching from the open side.

Her sleeve brushed Nia's shoulder.

Nia leaned back.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Tight space.””

There was plenty of room.

Marcus noticed.

“There's room on the other side,” he said.

Tasha looked at him.

“I'm just clearing the table.””

“Then please clear it without reaching over her.””

The words cut through the moment.

A man at the neighboring table glanced up, then quickly returned to his food.

Tasha gathered the plates, her face growing red.

“Some people really do think the world revolves around them,” she muttered.

Nia heard her.

She set down her napkin.

“Are you talking about me?””

Tasha paused.

“I didn't say any names.””

“Then why are you looking at me?””

Tasha's smile returned, but this time it was brittle.

“I'm not. Don't flatter yourself.””

Marcus shifted in his seat.

“Nia, we don't have to do this.””

She looked at him, then back at Tasha.

“I know. But I'm tired of pretending I don't understand what's happening.””

Tasha stood straight, balancing the plates against her palm.

“What's happening is that I'm doing my job, and you're acting like I'm trying to steal your man.””

Nia stared at her.

“Are you?””

The question was so direct that Tasha had no immediate answer.

She recovered quickly.

“Girl, please. If I wanted your man, you'd know.””

Marcus's expression hardened.

“That's enough.””

He didn't shout, but his voice carried across the table.

Tasha looked at him, surprised by the firmness in his tone.

“You're a server here,” he continued.

“We came to spend money, eat dinner, and enjoy ourselves. We haven't insulted you. We haven't treated you badly. So I don't understand why you keep coming back to disrespect my girlfriend.””

Tasha opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

“Please get your manager if you have an issue with serving us,” Marcus added.

“Otherwise, let us finish our meal.””

For a second, the restaurant seemed to grow quieter around them.

Tasha felt the eyes of the neighboring diners on her. Maybe they weren't actually watching. Maybe she only imagined it.

But the humiliation was real.

She had intended to make Nia look insecure.

Instead, Marcus had made it clear that he wasn't interested in playing her game.

Tasha turned and walked away, holding the plates so tightly that one rattled against another.

At the service station, she dropped them onto the counter.

Denise flinched.

“What happened?””

“Nothing.””

“Those plates disagree.””

Tasha glared at her.

“Mind your business.””

Denise held up both hands.

“I'm trying to save you from yourself.””

“I don't need saving.””

“Then stop going after that couple.””

Tasha leaned closer.

“You know what your problem is? You think a woman should just sit quietly while everybody else gets what she wants.””

Denise's expression turned serious.

“No. I think a woman should know the difference between wanting something and being entitled to it.””

Tasha stared at her.

Then she laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Everybody's got something to say tonight.””

She walked into the back hallway and took a long breath.

She could still return to the dining room, finish her shift, and leave without another incident. She could apologize, even if she didn't mean it. She could let the couple enjoy their dinner and accept that Marcus wasn't interested.

Instead, she looked at herself in the small mirror beside the staff lockers.

Her lipstick was perfect. Her hair was smooth. Her uniform was immaculate.

She had done everything right, as far as appearances were concerned.

So why did she feel as if she'd lost something?

Because, Tasha realized, the thing she wanted had never been Marcus himself.

It was the feeling of being able to take attention away from another woman.

And tonight, she had failed.

She straightened her shoulders and returned to the dining room.

The couple had finished their main course. Marcus was speaking softly to Nia, his hand resting near hers on the table.

Tasha watched them for another moment.

Then she picked up the dessert menu.