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Okay, maybe I was exaggerating my achievement. It was no Michelin star dinner. It was just salmon fillets with slices of lemon cooked on a pan sheet with some asparagus and baby red potatoes. But I’m so damn proud of myself.
Hopefully, Sam would be impressed too. I did all this for him after all.
The idea to cook for him came after I left the office. My last meeting of the day was with Sam working on Zimmerman’s campaign for his new hotel chain. We had been looking at the audience segments that would be attracted to the grandiose rooms surrounded by enormous private balconies with fantastic ocean views. Every kind of couple would relish in all that extravaganza. From honeymooners to couples who simply wanted a quiet place to fuck. Like Sam and me, for example. When Sam was his usual bold and pointed that out, it wasn’t easy to concentrate on work. Especially when he fantasized about how he’d fuck me from behind in front of the huge mirrored closet. Or how he’d make my whole body bubble in that Jacuzzi on the balcony. If I hadn’t feigned a yawn of fatigue and left his office, I would have stripped naked for him right then and there. Every day was becoming harder than the day before to resist and not give in to letting him have his way with me in his office. A strenuous effort, I admit, because my desire for this man never seemed to wane. And the thought of that alone made me realize how much I was willing to test out this thing with Sam. Whatever thethingwas. Tonight’s dinner was my first step as a grand gesture kind of thing.
After shooting at least twenty photographs of the two dinner plates from every angle, I chose the best one and sent it to Sam.
Hungry and waiting for you…
As I continued waiting for Sam to come over, I filled the dishwasher with all the utensils I used to prep dinner and went on to wipe clean every countertop where I made a mess, which practically meant the whole kitchen. Then I uncorked a Chardonnay and poured a glass.
My eyes fell on the wall clock. It was nearly eight in the evening. Sam should have been here an hour ago. I was used to waiting alone in an empty apartment and as I sat there on the sofa, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a repeat of past events. Of waiting for a man but he’d be a no-show. Did I make a mistake to –
My phone startled me with its ringing. It was Sam.
“Hello, sunshine.”
His voice brought an instant smile to my face. “Are you finished yet? It’s getting late and you must be famished. You’ve only eaten a small sandwich today.”
So did I actually. Back-to-back meetings were not fun at all. At least I had the chance to nibble on some veggies since I took dinner out of the oven.
“Absolutely hungry. Believe it or not, I took a coffee to trick my stomach.” Sam said.
“Wow, no, I don’t believe it.”
Sam had always scrunched up his nose at just the smell of coffee.
“I needed something to pick up my energy levels.”
“Picking up my bad habits now, are we? Don’t you usually say coffee is like tasting tar?”
“I do think so with a passion. Drank three glasses of water straight after but that nasty aftertaste just won’t go away.”
“I swear you’re the only workaholic I know not addicted to coffee. Anyway, are you coming over soon? Dinner’s going cold.”
He sighed a loud one. I imagined him rubbing his eyes like he always did when he was tired. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it.”
Oh-oh. In an instant, the warning signs switched on to their brightest.
“I got that Jameson contract to review and polish,” Sam explained.
Maybe the warning signs could dim a little. I knew Sam wasn’t lying about that contract. He had been working on it already when I left and I knew he had an early meeting with the client tomorrow morning. Jameson was a new client in town that Sam didn’t want to lose.
“I’m sorry, sunshine. May I take a rain check?”
“Sure,” I tired my best to hide the crack in my voice caught by the lump in my throat from the sudden dejection. Even if I understood his priorities, and I really did, I still felt the letdown striking me like an avalanche.
“Dinner looks amazing. Looks insanely delicious. And edible too. I’m impressed. Did you really cook that by yourself?”
“I did. For you.”
I slouch on the couch, with a long face like a kid who was denied candy. No, Lucy. Stop with the thoughts. This was Sam. Sam was different. This was the man who bought me two toothbrushes – not one – to keep at his place. This was the man who paused his late night at the office to call me.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked me.
I shrugged to myself. “Waiting for you.”
“Missing me already, huh?”
