Page 74 of Neap & Spring

Ten days.

We have ten days to save this restaurant.

And I have no idea how many days until I completely lose my ability to keep pretending that this is just a job.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Callum

The office smells like her now.

I’d recognize the light, floral scent that follows Vivienne around anywhere. It’s embedded in the tiny space, mixing with the usual smell of old paper and coffee. Her laptop is open on the desk with three different documents visible on the screen. There are sticky notes everywhere. Pink ones on the filing cabinet, yellow ones lining the edge of the desk, and blue ones stuck to the corkboard in what I’m sure is some kind of system only she understands.

It should bother me. This is my office. She’s invaded my personal space. The one place in the entire restaurant that’s supposed to be mine alone.

But it doesn’t bother me at all. Not even a little bit.

If anything, I like it. I like walking in here and seeing evidence of her everywhere and knowing she’s been here and she’s safe. She’s in my space fighting to save something that isn’t even really hers to save.

Her falling-apart composition book is open next to the laptop, covered in her swirly handwriting. Black ink for facts, blue for ideas, and red for follow-up, she told me. A pen is stuck through her hair, holding up that messy bun she always wears.

I’m leaning against the doorframe, watching her work like a creep. She doesn’t know I’m here yet. Her eyes are locked on the screen, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she moves the trackpad with one hand while the other absently twirls a strand of hair that’s escaped the bun.

I should say something. Announce myself. At least clear my throat a little. But I can’t seem to make myself make a sound.

Watching her like this, so focused and completely in her element, reminds me why I fell for her in the first place.

The late-afternoon light is coming through the small office window and catching on her face, illuminating the curve of her cheek and the concentration in her hazel eyes. A few strands of hair have escaped, falling around her face in a way that’s completely unintentional and somehow perfect. There’s a small crease between her eyebrows from staring at the screen too long, and her lips are slightly parted as she reads.

God, she’s beautiful.

I didn’t like that polished, put-together facade she had that first day she walked into my restaurant with her blazer pressed, makeup perfect, and every hair in place. That wasn’t Vivienne.

This is better. This is the real Vivienne.

This is the Vivienne I remember.

The lunch rush just ended twenty minutes ago. The dining room is empty now. Frannie is clearing the last few tables, and the kitchen is in that post-service lull. Dishes are being washed and stations being wiped down. Roman is organizing prep for dinner.

I should be in there with them. But I still can’t seem to make myself move.

“Are you just going to stand there like a creep, or are you going to say something?” Vivienne asks without looking up.

Oops. Caught.

“How did you know I was here?”

“You breathe loud.”

“I do not breathe loud.”

“You do. Like a —” She makes a loud huffing sound, her nose scrunched. “— Like that.”

“That is not what I sound like.”

She’s messing with me. I can see the smile she’s trying to hide.

“It’s exactly what you sound like.” She looks up now, her eyes gleaming mischievously, but I’m stuck on the dark circles lining those eyes. Ten days of barely sleeping while she works herself into the ground. But at least she’s smiling slightly. “What do you want, Cal?”