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I’m wherever the hell I want to be,I reply with a grin.
Very funny. I wanted to wake up with you in my arms.
“Awww,” Lisabell squeals, reading my texts from beside me. I didn’t even realize she had moved closer.
I had to get home to Lisabell. She needed my help with packing.
My best friend hits my arm. “Don’t use me as an excuse, you coward.”
“Ow,” I cry, rubbing the spot.
My gaze returns to my phone when Xander replies.
Sounds like an excuse to me.
“Ha! Smart man,” Lisabell says triumphantly.
I roll my eyes.
It is not. I’ll see you later, okay?I text him.
Do you want me to pick you up from Lisabell’s for work? I’m heading to the hotel today anyway.He replies.
Oh right. I have to work now. I check the time and it’s 8:20. I have to be at work by 9 or risk the wrath of my coworkers, who already hate me.
No, it’s fine. I’ll see you there, I guess.
Bye, firefly.He quickly replied.
Firefly?I ask, even as my cheeks heat at the endearment.
Yeah, I told you, you’re a bright light in my life. One I really need right now.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Lisabell gushes. “If you don’t marry that man, I will!”
I let out a deep sigh.I’m so royally fucked.
* * *
Music fillsthe air around me. The head chef—or as she insists we call her, chef de cuisine—likes to play songs while she cooks. I wouldn’t have any problem with that, if it wasn’t for the fact that most of the songs are really slow songs that I’ve never heard before. I think they’re from the ’80s. Her choice in songs would make more sense if she was in her sixties or something but nope, Madam Francine is in probably in her late thirties at most. And she despises me.
“Newbie,” she calls in her annoying high-pitched, silvery voice.
I let out a soft breath before moving to stand in front of her. “You called, ma’am,” I say politely.
“Yes, Sophia’s about to have a baby,” she states, pointing one of her short-manicured nails at one of the other chefs who is noticeably pregnant. “So you’re going to take over her shift. She usually opens up the kitchen at 7 a.m. to cater to the needs of the hotel’s early risers. That’s not a problem, right?”
She looks like she wants it to be a problem, just so she can have a reason to have it out with me. But I’m not going to rise to the bait. I might have to say goodbye to late mornings but I’ll do everything to make sure I’m worthy of this job.
“Does that mean I’ll be in charge of breakfast?” I ask, the thought instantly causing me to smile. At least I’ll finally get to cook and prepare meals, instead of being useless in the background.
Francine’s gray eyes narrow. “I guess,” she replies.
“Thank you.”
The sous chef walks up to her and whispers something in her ear. Francine nods and sighs.
“We’re just going to have to trust her with it, Mark. No one else can make time to be here in the mornings.”
