Page 60 of Room Service

“Everyone else, continue working. Jessi, move over here.”

I sighed as I left what I’d been doing and went over to where the chef moved, out of the way of everyone else as they went on with their work. They didn’t even bother to hide that they were listening in on our conversation, and I did my best to ignore them.

Why the fuck am I letting them get to me?

I knew better than to show weakness because that was when they went in for the attack. So when I looked up, my expression was stoic, and I pushed back my emotions. I thought back to school, on the few occasions I was sent to the principal’s office and dealt with this as I did with that. I distanced myself from it emotionally, looking on dispassionately as the chef continued berating me. The others were outright making fun of me now, but I ignored that too.

Stay calm, I thought to myself. This is nothing like high school. The worst they can do is fire you, and it’s not like finding jobs in other places would be hard with such a good record.

Not that I wanted to get fired but starting over might not be such a bad thing. I wouldn’t have to stay at Myrtle Beach, and I could find someplace close enough to Charlotte that I wouldn’t be too far from my parents. The Thompson hotel was the biggest contender in the area, but there were a few other hotels I could try for.

“What is going on in here?”

The sudden interruption had everyone freezing again. My eyes blew wide as I registered the familiar voice, thinking I had to be mistaken. But I looked around, and sure enough, there he was. Dressed in a shirt, slacks, and loafers instead of the usual suit, with his hair falling over his forehead, but it was undoubtedly him.

“Who are you?” the chef asked, incensed at being interrupted. “And what are you doing in my kitchen?”

“Trent,” he said bluntly, walking further into the room. His eyes traveled from me to the chef in curiosity. “And who are you?”

The guy looked offended that Trent had to ask, and puffed out his chest, fisting his hands on his hips.

“I’m the head chef around here,” he said proudly.

I almost laughed, wondering if he meant that it was his given position or the position he imagined himself in because I believed the latter. Though I was worried, Trent’s presence had made me feel lighter. He probably wasn’t here today to make things even harder for me.

“Not anymore,” he said, sounding almost cheerful as he put his hands in his pockets and faced the chef. “From now on, you no longer work here. Have your bags packed and yourself moved out of the premises. If you’re still here by tomorrow, I will know. You’ll receive your severance package. Good day, sir.”

The chef was stunned, standing there gaping in shock, before he started stuttering.

“Who are you to come here and fire…” he started to argue, losing steam as his eyes widened. He gulped. “Trent Thompson?” he asked, suddenly looking small and fearful of the answer.

Trent gave his best smirk. “The one and only. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal the pastry chef. She is still very much needed at the main branch. If you would all excuse me.”

He looked down expectantly at me. It took me a minute to realize what he wanted, and I started to walk out of the kitchen, him falling into step beside me. Once we were out, and hopefully away from earshot, I stopped. Trent turned to me again with that expectant look, only for it to dissolve into shock when I suddenly burst into laughter, that may have been part giddy and part hysterical.

“Thank you for that,” I said, once I’d calmed down a little, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I don’t know why I laughed so hard, but that was a nice sight to see.”

Trent chuckled beside me. “Anytime,” he teased, nudging my shoulder with his. Though his expression turned serious when I looked up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to talk to you. Do you mind following me back to my suite? I have one booked.”

I didn’t refuse, and he led us to an elevator, where we got on and went up several floors. We went to his room, and the first cursory glance told me it was beautiful. But I could hardly focus on it when Trent walked in behind me. He looked as handsome as I remembered, even more so perhaps, and I realized I’d missed him over the past few weeks.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked, curious. And how was it I had dreaded this, but Trent was standing right in front of me, and all I could feel was a relief?

He took a deep breath, wiping his hands on his thighs. He paced slow steps to close the distance between us, and all I could do was watch him as my heart started to beat a little fast.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

I blinked, not comprehending the phrase. “I’m sorry, what?”

Suddenly, words were spilling out of his mouth. “I came because I realized I never apologized to you. And it was completely unfair of me to think you would stay when I hadn't even done that. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you, including our past together, and I’m also sorry that it took me this long to get my act together and find you. I meant it when I asked you to stay. So please, come back with me, Jessi.”

I didn’t know how to react. A part of me wanted to rail at him because I’d spent so much time feeling worried, and here he was, telling me everything I wanted to hear. My eyes stung again, and I blinked back the tears.

“Trent,” I said his name in a whisper, and it was all I could get past the lump in my throat.

Like he understood what I was trying to say, Trent closed the space between us. His hands cupped my cheeks as I tilted my head and ducked down so his lips covered mine. I melted into the kiss, sighing at the familiar feel and taste of him, even after the weeks apart.

His mouth was rough against mine, and all I could do was clutch at him as he walked me backward, never once breaking from the kiss. I jumped a little when my back hit something hard and cold, probably the glass wall from the smooth feel of it through my clothes. I didn’t even care that people might be able to see us from outside.

Trent had come for me, and it was more than I could have dared to hope for.