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Be in touch. Thats a promise.
My breath is racing, my heart banging so hard it might burst out of my chest.
I can’t delete the text fast enough, but even when it’s gone, the terror of what it means presses down on me like a vise.
No matter how far I’ve run, no matter how much I want to believe I might deserve some shred of happiness in my future, my past is never going to let me go.
Chapter 2
After Nick leaves for work, I realize I’m going to lose my mind if I stay in the penthouse alone with little to do. My nerves are too on edge. My panic after seeing that awful text message has put a knot in my stomach that’s only tightened in the time since he’s been gone.
Despite the fact that I was clean and semidressed for breakfast, I strip out of my short silk kimono and take another shower—this one scalding. Beneath the punishing spray of water I try to compartmentalize the hideous past that still clings to me and the fragile, hopeful present I’ve only begun to know.
To think I had almost convinced myself that the ugliness I left behind in Pennsylvania would never find me all these years later.
Until two weeks ago, I thought I was safe. I thought that part of my life—and the secrets I ran away from—could never hurt me again.
How wrong I’d been.
There’s only one person who can understand what I’m feeling right now, but I refuse to burden my mother with this new problem of mine. God knows she’s already sacrificed more than enough where I’m concerned.
For my own sake, I need to immerse myself in the here and now, not withdraw into the fear and shame that’s clawing at me in the wake of that text. I need the cacophony of the city around me. I need some semblance of the familiar in order to find my grounding again.
When I walk up an hour later to the locked glass entrance of Vendange, the restaurant where I worked as a bartender until three and a half months ago, my friend, Tasha Lopez, hurries toward the double doors to meet me. Her loose brown spiral curls frame her soft features and long-lashed brown eyes as she tilts her head to study me for a moment through the glass.
Using one of the manager’s keys that hang from the neon green plastic coil around her wrist, Tasha opens the locks and lets me inside. Vendange doesn’t open until lunch, but half a dozen servers are already at work prepping for business. Like Tasha, the waitstaff are all wearing fitted black button-down shirts with black tuxedo vests and black slacks, a polished, understated look that perfectly complements the trendy, upscale bar and restaurant.
Before she and I have a chance to greet each other, one of the employees calls out to her from the restaurant storage room.
“Hey, Tasha? Looks like we’re down to the last three take-out boxes.”
“Check out back. I placed an order for another case earlier this week. I think I saw it when I closed up last night.” Without missing a beat, she turns to me and gives me a big hug. “You look gorgeous as usual.”
Her gaze skims my loose white silk tank, slim-fitting tan pencil skirt, and flat, saddle-brown designer sandals—just part of the generous wardrobe Nick has gifted me with since we’ve been together. I opted to wear my blonde hair unbound, a habit I’ve begun since hooking up with him. He never allows it to stay tamed for long, anyway. Today it floats around my face and shoulders in a mass of air-dried, beachy waves instead of the orderly, blown-out ponytail that was my regular style when I worked at the restaurant.
Tasha seems to approve of my new look too. She fists her hands on her hips and grins at me. “Penthouse life definitely agrees with you—even if it means I haven’t seen you in more than a week.”
It’s a none-too-subtle chide, but she’s right. I have been spending a lot of time alone with Nick, especially since I moved into his place. Tasha has her family and a large social circle of her own, but she always makes me feel special and a part of her life. After having worked together at Vendange five or more nights a week on average for the past year, she’s not only my best friend but the closest thing to family I’ve had since I moved to this city.
“Speaking of gorgeous,” she says, “where’s your smokin’ hot sex-god boyfriend today?”
“Meetings all day at his office.” A couple of weeks ago, I recall scoffing at the idea that Nick and I were a couple in the boyfriend-girlfriend sense of the word. Even though I’m not entirely sure what to call us now, it’s Tasha’s wry smile that tugs my own mouth into a smirk. “As for the smoking hot sex-god part—accurate though it may be—is that really any way to talk about your new boss?”
“Good point.” She purses her lips, looking far from contrite. “It’s totally inappropriate for me to objectify Vendange’s new owner like that. From now on, I’ll refer to him as mister smokin’ hot sex-god.”
Her laugh is big and warm, one of the most comforting sounds I know. Hooking her arm through mine, she leads me farther into the restaurant. Male and female waitstaff buzz around us setting the tables, polishing fixtures, and wiping down surfaces. I gesture to the classic uniforms on the servers and bartenders.
“I like the new dress code, by the way. No more cleavage-baring shirts with black skinny jeans and heels for the women?”
Tasha rolls her eyes. “That was the first thing I changed after I took over as manager. I also added three new servers and trained two of them myself as bartending backup. I don’t want anyone working mandatory doubles the way Joel made us do, especially those of us with kids at home. To make sure everyone gets the shifts they want, I reshuffled the schedule a bit and made a rotating call list of waitstaff who are looking for extra hours. So far, it’s working out great.”
“I can see that.”
I can’t help but be impressed. I remember how frenetic and stressful Vendange was before, when I worked here with Tasha under the previous manager’s watch. Now the pace is efficient instead of hectic. The faces of the employees are focused, yet relaxed, not anxious that they’ll earn the wrath of an overbearing jerk of a boss. Tasha appears infinitely happier, too, which makes me even more grateful for Nick’s unexpected generosity where she’s concerned.
There is a part of me that will always consider him my hero for the way he stepped in to protect my friend from Joel’s unwanted advances. In true Dominic Baine fashion, he managed to purchase the restaurant out from under Joel and have the bastard tossed out on his ass—all in the space of a few hours. Nick claimed it was all in the interest of a good business investment, but I know he also did it to help Tasha. He did it for me, even though we’d been in the middle of a big argument and on the verge of breaking up when Tasha arrived at Nick’s building in tears after walking off the job following Joel’s harassment of her.
She folds her arms and exhales a slow sigh. “I still can’t believe I’m managing one of the most popular restaurants in the city.”
