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“It’s okay, dear. Your mom is fine. You are fine,” William says softly.
Crap! I fell asleep with Ray.
“How late is it?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“It’s not late. Come on.”
I follow William outside and release a deep breath of relief after a quick glance at the wall clock. When I step into the kitchen, I do a double take, taking in my surroundings.
“Wow, this is beautiful,” I whisper before clearing my throat. “I can’t believe Zach has such an equipped kitchen.”
William chuckles. “Don’t let it fool you. Mr. Teager’s culinary skills are…nonexistent.”
I smile as my gaze lands on a china bowl on the floor with dog food in it.
“Oh! I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to use such an expensive thing for Mr. Stanley. I forgot to remind Zach to pick up his water and food bowls.”
“Don’t worry. This is not from the kitchen. Mr. Teager and Master Ray purchased it. They said something along the lines ofhe too needs nice things.”
William’s smile is carefree, but self-consciousness hits me as I stand in the middle of this opulent place. I’m not sure how he feels about us being here. If he is upset with all the extra work, it doesn’t show. He is the same kind gentleman he was to me before. “William, I didn’t ask—"
“Hope, I’ve known Mr. Teager for a few years now. He’s a clever man and a very good judge of character. If you are here, I have every belief that Mr. Teager trusts you, and you should too. For me, I’m happy to have so much life around me. Today has been the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
I nod, wiping my tears. His kind words, his sweet smile, make me feel like less of a loser. “I’m sorry. I’m being emotional today.”
“You have all the reason to be emotional.” He places a warm dish of pasta with meatballs and garlic bread on the counter. My eyebrow rises in confusion when he slides a glass of red wine before me and says, “Mr. Teager bought it. Especially for you.”
Unaware of my wild heartbeat courtesy of his last statement, William continues, “I got the baking supplies you used last time. While you eat, I can start prepping and you can set me straight, in case I make a mistake.”
Efficiently, William starts beating the eggs, mixing all the ingredients, and finally putting the batter in molds. My gaze lands on the standard house oven behind him and I realize it’s going to be a long night.
As if he can hear my inward sigh, William grins at me. “Don’t worry. We’re not baking here.”
While I wash my plate and put it in the dishwasher, he calls someone. A few minutes later two men dressed in the hotel uniform enter the apartment. They carry the cupcake trays and William asks me to follow them. I look back in the direction of the room where Ray is sleeping when William shows me a baby monitor. “I know Master Ray is grown up, but this is for your peace of mind.” He smiles at me, and I can’t help but thank God for sending these two men into my life.
We walk into the kitchen of The Ritz and the staff expertly places everything in the industrial oven.
When they leave, I’m finally out of the initial shock. I look around the baking area, rubbing my hands back and forth over the cold counter. I ask William softly, “What’s the price of renting The Ritz’s kitchen for a few hours at night?”
“None, if you’re the owner.” He raises an eyebrow before giving me a small smile.
“Zach owns the hotel?” I squeak. I have never asked Zach explicitly about his work. I guessed he was a businessman of some sort, but I never thought him to be a hotelier.
What do you know about all this stuff anyways, Hope?
“As the superhero cupcakes are your copyrighted recipe, I thought you would like to decorate them in the penthouse.”
A feeling of lightheadedness hits me as I’m overwhelmed by everything. Last night I was sitting alone in the hospital, calculating my nonexistent funds and worrying about how I will handle everything. But in less than twenty-four hours, my son is sleeping peacefully after a healthy meal, my mother is resting in one of the best hospital rooms, and I’m here in this palatial hotel’s kitchen.
“Hope.” William shakes me lightly and I realize I’m clutching a champagne flute between my hands.
Crap! I don’t even remember grabbing it from the counter.
I immediately place it back. “Sorry.” Heat climbs up my neck and face. “I—"
William places his hand on my shoulder and lightly squeezes. “I understand. How’s your mother doing?”
I clear my throat, swallowing the heavy ball of emotions resting there before answering his question. I tell him about Mom, her surgery, and her expected slow recovery.
