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“You’re quitting?” Sean asked, and damn if he didn’t sound happy about that.
“What?” My heart rate was shooting up as I contemplated how to respond to Nico. “No. I’m not quitting. I told you that.”
“Then why is Nico saying you are?” He held his phone up.
“It’s a misunderstanding.” I typed fast.
No, I don’t want to quit. I didn’t mean to send that to you.
It sounded ridiculous but it wasn’t like I could claim the text was meant for someone else. It wasn’t a phrase you tossed at many people in your life.
Are you sure? Because Martin just quit too and if you want out, do it now. I’ll be pissed if you come at me two weeks from now saying you’re out.
I swallowed hard.
No. I don’t want to quit.
Good. No bullshit.
Nope. No bullshit.
I took a deep breath and raised my hand, needing the bartender to replace the drink I’d tried to throw at Sean. I needed a sip to steady my nerves. That had been close.
“Tell Nico you’re with me and I’m insisting I don’t want to quit,” I told Sean.
“What?” he asked, clearly distracted. He was still studying his phone. Finally, he looked up. “Oh, sure. Tell Nico you don’t want to quit. I can do that.”
I frowned, just a little. I was about to answer when I got a response from Nico.
If Chef Kincaid quits, it's on you, Isla. He quits, you’re fired.
Holy shit, was he serious?
Everything about this week was just a dumpster fire. It was tempting to argue with Nico, but I had already accidentally texted him (I couldn’t blame the baby, as much as I wanted to), so I had to just suck it up and comply.
Complying doesn’t come naturally to me.
I swallowed my pride.
Got it. There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.
The bartender brought my fresh drink and I took a larger sip than was wise. For a minute both Sean and I sat there in silence.
Then he cleared his throat. “Tell me about the rest of the staff. I’m sure you know them better than Nico and Sid. Then I should probably head out, I have plans later.”
A date? Not that I cared. Much. “I do know the staff really well.” I gave him the lowdown, trying to focus on the positive only. “They’re great people.”
The whole time it was rolling around in my head that I had to keep Sean happy or I was out of a job.
That was the very definition of irony.
After around twenty minutes Sean glanced at the time on his phone and said he had to leave. That was fine with me. We had reached a tenuous truce. I had to retreat into being polite or I was totally screwed.
“See you Monday,” he said, as we walked out of the bar together.
It was raining. That cold, spring spitting of moisture onto us. It was not going to be an enjoyable walk to the bus stop.
“Do you want a ride?” Sean asked. “My car is just down the street.”
