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I walked into the kitchen, and Sebastian pressed a to-go mug full of cold brew into my hands.
“We're out of peanut butter. But don’t worry. I’ll pick some up before we meet up with Liv and Jack tonight,” Sebastian reassured me. My only nausea cures were a peanut butter and honey sandwich, made with local crunchy peanut butter, or a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel sandwich with avocado from the Buzz, a cafe across the street from The Cookie Cove.
To my surprise, Sebastian had been extra attentive as my nausea worsened, even going as far as calling my gynecologist to yell at them about how bad the side effects of my birth control were. I’d called them last week, and they’d brushed me off, saying they might be able to get me a prescription to help with nausea. After Sebastian nearly broke his phone in two while threatening a lawsuit and screaming at them to stop shilling, “bullshit sugar pills,” they wrote the prescription the next day.
I made some avocado toast, took a bite, and waited. My stomach was calm. I took another huge bite. It seemed like my two main states of being were now nauseous and ravenous.
Sebastian took one last bite of his breakfast cookie, and we were out the door. Sebastian rolled the windows down as we drove to Dover. It was a gorgeous summer day, the sky was bright and clear, and it wasn’t too hot. However, it was supposed to be in the eighties later today.
“So, Jack and I were texting, and what if we meet you and Liv in Dover for dinner tonight since you’re both working?” Sebastian suggested.
Between tourist season and Liv launching her first Summer Reading Program, both of our schedules had been utterly chaotic. Almost a month later, Liv, Sebastian, Jack, and I were finally going on our double date.
“Yeah, that works! I’ll be done around six.” I wanted to give myself time to review the schedule for the next week.
“Perfect. I was thinking of making reservations at Golden Table.”
Golden Table was a brand-new, farm-to-table restaurant that served artisanal dishes using local produce. They started as a stall at the Farmer’s Market, serving cold wraps and pastries. Now they’d expanded to their first-ever retail location with a decadent menu of specials. I had been salivating over their menu for weeks. Nauseous or not, I was determined to consume my body weight in a warm quinoa bowl.
“That’d be great!” I said.
Sebastian grinned. “You realize you're the only person who could make me go somewhere where a hipster lectures me about farm-to-table ethics and how the cows do yoga or whatever?” He grumbled.
“I know, thank you,” I said sincerely. I
“You're welcome. Plus, I figured we could celebrate a bit since you’re a retail titan now.” Sebastian was enthralled about my deal with Dover Delights, maybe even more excited than me. I heard him gushing on the phone about it to one of his investors the other day. It was cute. Here I spent months agonizing over the idea that Sebastian would be ashamed of me. Instead, he was literally shouting about The Cookie Cove from the scaffolding of the Dover Mall.
Sebastian pulled up to the curb of The Cookie Cove and idled at the curb, planting a kiss on my lips. I slipped my tongue into his mouth and groaned happily before pulling away.
“I’ll see you tonight!” I said.
Sebastian grinned. “See you tonight.”
The workday passed quickly, and I lost myself in the whirr of the industrial mixer as I mixed pounds of dough for oatmeal scotchies. By the time six rolled around, I was exhausted and starving. I changed into my sundress in the employee bathroom. It was a light denim wash with a cinched elastic waist that strained against my ribcage. Luckily, the back was stretchy, and there were no zippers to contend with. I filled up my water bottle and made sure our newest hire, Emily, was okay to close. Then I walked over to Olivia’s.
She finished counting the drawer when I appeared in the doorway. She opened the door for me with a smile.
“Finally! Here, I’m just wrapping up. You can go ahead and take a seat if you want.” I sat down on a children’s stool shaped like a mushroom as Olivia powered down the computer and set the alarm.
“Okay, now I’m good to go. Want to walk to Golden Table? Or we could drive. I’m parked out back.”
“It’s beautiful out. Let’s walk,” I said. I followed Olivia out the back door, and we wound through the alley until we ended up a couple of blocks from The Golden Table. I inhaled the fresh summer air.
“I’m so glad it’s the weekend,” Olivia said as we walked.
“Same. I mixed twenty pounds of cookie dough today to prep for our deal with Dover Delights,” I explained.
Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “Twenty pounds!”
“It’s what we’ll need,” I explained.
I spied the ochre awning with “Golden Table” scrawled on it up ahead. Olivia and I walked into the restaurant. A waifish hostess wearing a loose braid and a linen sundress stood at the hostess stand. The interior was softly lit. An abstract painting of a wheat field dominated the back wall. The rest of the place was covered in stylish ochre paisley wallpaper.
“Welcome to Golden Table,” she cooed. “How can I help you?”
“I think we have a reservation for Sebastian?”
She nodded. “Yeah, they’re outside. Follow me.” Even though she spoke at a normal volume, it sounded like she whispered. She led us to a fenced-in outdoor patio. The fence was decorated with small boxes full of local plants and herbs. Edison bulbs and hanging plants and flowers were strung up above the tables.
