He moves through the kitchen with rigid, jerky motions, slamming pots down harder than necessary and slamming oven doors with a distinct lack of grace. Every time I walk past him, he stiffens, his eyes locking onto the stainless steel countertop as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
Eli is no better. He’s usually my sanctuary, the one who smiles and offers me a taste of whatever he’s mixing up. Today, he’s distant.
He focuses maniacally on his pastries, measuring and weighing with a surgeon’s precision, ignoring me completely when I try to make small talk. He hasn’t even looked at my bandaged arm.
Fallon is the only one acting relatively normal, but even he seems to be walking on eggshells, cracking jokes that die in the air before anyone laughs.
The cleaning takes forever. We’re scrubbing the dining room from top to bottom, getting ready for the evening service.
Usually, we talk, we listen to music, we joke. Today, the only sound is the squeak of rags on the floor and the thud of furniture being moved.
The silence is heavy, pressurized, like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm.
Lunch hour is weirdly quiet, the usual bustle dampened by the weather and the gloomy vibe inside. When the rush finally dies down around seven, I’m exhausted. Not physically—my arm is sore, but manageable—but mentally.
The strain of pretending not to notice the weirdness is draining.
“Amber,” Knox’s voice cuts through the quiet kitchen.
I jump, dropping the towel I was folding. “Yeah, Chef?”
He’s standing by the office door. “My office. Please.”
My stomach drops into my shoes. This is it. The bandage. The clumsy mistakes. The fact that I’ve felt like an outsider all day.
He’s going to fire me. I’m going to have to go back to Jude and tell him I lost the job within a week.
I walk to the office, my legs feeling like lead. I step inside, and he closes the door behind him. The sudden quiet makes me nervous.
He walks over to his desk and opens a drawer. I brace myself for the lecture, the harsh words.
“Here.” He holds out an envelope. “Your paycheck for last week and the two days you worked this week. There’s a delay with the bank.”
I take the envelope. “Thank you.”
“Tomorrow morning’s cleanup is Fallon’s duty,” he says, his voice clipped. “You don’t need to come in until noon. I’m going to head to the bank and then I’m holding some interviews for more staff. I want to bring in a dedicated dishwasher and maybe a prep cook to lighten the load.”
Panic flares in my chest. “Wait, interviews? You’re hiring more people?”
“Yes.”
“Before you… before you replace me, can you just tell me?” My voice trembles. I hate how weak I sound, but I can’t help it. “I’m really sorry about yesterday. I know I was a disaster. I know I’m not as fast as you guys, and I messed up the service. But I need this job, Knox. I can do better. I swear.”
Knox looks genuinely startled. “Replace you? Amber, I’m not firing you.”
I blink. “You’re not?”
“No. I’m hiring help because we’re drowning, not because you are incompetent. You’re doing fine.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to organize the kitchen so no one has to work twelve-hour shifts. That includes you.”
Just then, the office door opens without a knock. Eli bursts in, his face pale.
“What happened?” he asks, looking between us. “I heard voices. Is everything okay?”
Fallon leans against the doorframe, looking exasperated. “Knox, do you have a death wish or something? You scared the hell out of her.”
“I thought I was being fired,” I say.
“I wasn’t firing her!” Knox snaps. “I was giving her a paycheck and a schedule change.”
