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“I need to be there about noon. Vicki wants us all there before you guys appear. She said something about needing help with the setup.”
I nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Come on over and eat,” he said as he carried the plates to the table.
I hit the timer and then hobbled over to my seat and sat down, taking a bite of my toast. I watched as Tristan dug into his scrambled eggs and took a bite of the perfectly cooked bacon.
“So, do you have any idea what your plans are after this contest is over?” I asked, a mix of hope and hesitation in my voice.
Tristan shrugged. “Go back to the city, I guess, and continue to eke out some existence with this job.”
“If you aren’t happy there then why don’t you put your talent to use?” I questioned.
Tristan looked up at me, then back down to the food in front of him. “I dunno. I never gave it much thought I guess.”
I took in a breath, my stomach in knots as I decided to tell him what I’d been thinking about this morning. “Well, I was thinking…” I paused. Was I only opening myself up to get my heart broken if he didn’t like the idea?
Tristan looked up at me and waited for me to begin speaking again. I took a bite of bacon and was just about to start speaking again when we heard a knock on the front door.
“I’ll get it.” He wiped his face with a napkin and grabbing his T-shirt from the back of the chair and threw it over his head as he made his way to the front door. I could hear nothing but a small murmur, and then he returned.
“Who was that?” I questioned.
“Melinda. She just wanted to pop over and wish you good luck in between serving customers.”
I smiled. “That was nice.”
“So you were saying…” Tristan said, taking a seat.
“Yes. Well, I’ve been watching you this past week, and you seem to really like it here.”
“Yes, it’s a very warm little town.”
“Yes, and you’ve made some friends here.”
“I suppose.”
“Well, I just thought I’d throw—”
Again, I was interrupted, this time by Tristan’s cell phone. “Give me a minute,” he said, frowning as he looked at the screen.
“Everything okay?” I questioned, concerned with the look on his face.
He stared at the screen as if something were wrong. “Yep, I just need to take this,” he mumbled, and got up and left the kitchen. I heard his deep voice say hello, silence following.
I swirled my fork through the egg yolk on my plate and placed it down on top of the napkin that sat beside my plate, trying hard not to listen to a one-sided conversation. Then I picked up my toast and tore a small piece off, dipping it into the egg yolk and eating it.
I let out a huff and dropped the toast onto the plate and got up from the table, glancing into the living room in time to see Tristan enter my bedroom and close the door behind him. I frowned. I could hear his muffled voice; it sounded important.
I went over to the oven just as the timer went off, and I grabbed the oven mitts and opened the door, a waft of sweet cinnamon and sugar hitting my nose. I pulled the buns from the oven and placed the pan on the cooling rack. They were perfect.
I got busy making the cinnamon drizzle for over top of them and set the bowl aside just as Tristan came into the kitchen, now fully dressed, the phone still in his hand.
“Everything okay?” I asked, swallowing hard.
“Yeah. Great actually. I just got an amazing job offer from a restaurant in LA. I’ve been applying for years, and finally my ship has come in,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Now, what was it you were saying?”
My heart sank at his news. There was no point in continuing that conversation. Besides, I had already lost the nerve of asking him. “Oh it was nothing important,” I said, swallowing hard and forcing a smile.
