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I wasn't so sure after I looked at rental property nearby. I started by viewing a two-bedroom place near the restaurant. I couldn’t find anything in the same building, but I found one close to the restaurant. The problem was that it was going for twenty-five hundred dollars a month. It was a small, apartment—the same size as the one I currently rented for eight hundred dollars back home in Taylorsville.
Finally, I found a room for rent five blocks up the street. It was a bedroom with a shared bathroom. It was a shared apartment with three other people, and it was about the same price as the apartment where I currently lived. I looked at a ton of options, and this was the only one that was evencloseto obtainable for me in this neighborhood.
The only thing in question was my car. When I first thought of staying in Seattle, I just assumed I would go home and get my car. But this apartment was close to the restaurant, and selling it meant that I would have more in my savings and I wouldn't have gas or insurance to pay for.
I exhausted a ton of different ideas and options, and at the end of it, I was left with a bedroom for eight-fifty a month and a plan of probably selling my car. I imagined the possibility of being stuck on the west coast with no transportation, and the weirdest part of it all was that it seemed like a better option than going back home, back to my same two jobs and apartment.
For years, I had basically been stuck in a loop where days turned into weeks, turned into months. I worked for the weekend, and then on the weekend, I worked some more. I didn't mind it because my jobs were routine and fairly mindless. My work was basically my social life, and I rested at home. I hadn't managed to save a whole lot considering how many hours I put in, but I had a little in savings, and I was no longer in debt. I had a note on my car, but it was almost paid off. I considered all this, and even wrote down a list of pros and cons about moving. I had never done anything like this before.
And then suddenly, I looked at the clock in my hotel and realized that it was time for me to go back to the restaurant.
But was I even going?I thought about it for all of three seconds before I hopped up so that I could use the restroom and freshen up.
I wore the same jeans and sweater I had on before. It was cold enough that I brought a beanie and gloves, and I tried them on, but I hadn't worn them earlier, and I opted to leave them off again. I was nervous, and I told myself there was no reason to be. All of this was on my terms.
I called a ride and met the driver outside of my hotel. It was all me—all of it—from the interview with Rita to the job at the restaurant. All of it was my choice. The ball was in my court. If I didn't want to be there, all I had to do was leave. This was why I had no reason to be nervous. I'd go in there and live my life. I would have a conversation with Isaac Alexander and if I wanted to take a job working with him and move to Seattle, I would. It was my life and my choice. I told myself these things as I was on my way back to the restaurant. I was smiling and feeling much better when I went inside.
"What's going on, she came back!" I heard Isaac's voice the instant I came into the restaurant. I came inside and crossed the large room, which was now much emptier than it had been at noon when I left.
Isaac had such a kind smile. He was handsome, too, an all-American hunk with green eyes that I could see shining from across the room. "Come on over here," he said, gesturing for me to follow him. He had been near some tables, but we walked to the kitchen where he opened the swinging door and stood back, letting me walk inside. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked, stopping at the soda fountain, which was near the door.
"No thanks," I said instinctually.
"Are you sure?" he asked, putting something in a cup for himself.
"Uh, water would be fine, I guess, if you don't mind." He made me a cup of ice water and then turned to me with a smile, handing me my cup. "Let's go back to the dining room and grab one of those tables."
I nodded and moved to follow him again. His uniform was a black three-button polo with the restaurant logo and his name embroidered on his chest. The shirt was tucked into a pair of jeans that fit him like a… I took my eyes off of Isaac's jeans and told myself it didn't matter what they fit him like. I tried to take it all in, the smells and the sounds—it was somewhat familiar to me since I worked in a restaurant, but this place was so different.
It was bright and open compared to the dark, low-ceiling Mexican restaurant where I worked. We went out of the kitchen, around the counter, and through the dining room where we found a spot at a large booth that was meant for at least four people.
"Is this okay for you?" he asked.
"Of course, I'm following you," I said.
We sat down across from each other, and Isaac grinned at me once we got settled. His lips were full and his smile was curved and wide enough to spread across his face. I wasn't normally the type to go crazy over men, it was just that Seattle seemed to have noticeably strapping hunks. These guys were visually stunning with their symmetrical faces and movie star jawlines and facial hair. It almost seemed like he and the rude guy were brothers with their strapping good looks. I figured it was a fluke since their personalities couldn't be more different.
"When you were eating lunch earlier I thought you said you didn't live here—that you were only here visiting."
It was the first thing out of Isaac's mouth, and it made me smile. I honestly liked people who could cut to the chase, and I cleared my throat to respond to him.
Chapter 5
"I don't live here, actually," I said to Isaac, opting for honesty. "I am just here for a week—not even—five days. But, I ran into your grandma out there on the street, and I was trying to talk to her for a totally different reason, but she asked me if I was looking for a job, and I thought,well, maybe I am looking for one. It seemed like you guys were having fun in here, and I like Seattle so far. So, I've been back at my hotel for the last three hours, trying to see if I could make it work."
I paused and looked at him, wondering how he would react to the truth. "What was the other reason?" he asked.
"The other reason of what?" I asked.
"Why did you want to talk to my grandmother in the first place? You said you wanted to talk to her for a totally different reason."
"Oh, I was telling Brian a little about that. He was the customer I was sitting next to when—"
"I know Brian."
"Oh, well, I was telling Brian that I wanted to see if I could talk to your grandmother about a room she has for rent upstairs."
Isaac smiled "She has all the rooms for rent upstairs. She and my grandfather own this entire building. My dad and Uncle Jim each own and manage a few of the apartments, but the building is ours—our family's. I don't think we have anything up for rent right now, though."
