My shoulders slump as I realize I won’t be able to ask her to cover for me if I want to leave early.
Sliding my phone out of my pocket to look at the time, I see it’s a few minutes past four p.m. We’ll be opening the doors at six p.m. This means Ethan scheduled Lily for a four-hour shift on opening night. And I have to work from three to midnight?
Tonight’s dinner service is considered a soft opening, since we’ll only be serving dinner and we haven’t invited any big food critics. Tomorrow, we’ll begin opening the restaurant earlier for lunch.
We may get a few mid-level food bloggers and influencers tonight, but the bigger ones will wait to read everyone else’s opinion before they decide whether Forked is worthy of their platform. The “hard” grand opening will happen in a few weeks.
Maybe making me stay an hour past closing is Ethan’s way of testing me, to see if I can handle the stress of long hours. It’s almost as if he doesn’t believe I’ve worked countless twelve-hour-shifts in a busy kitchen. If he wants to see what I’m capable of, I’ll show him.
On the upside, focusing on work may help me forget the embarrassing thing that just happened in his office.
The soft opening is off to a great start. Any stage-fright I felt before the doors opened melts away as I begin interacting with the customers. Despite the fact that the hosts and hostesses are only supposed to help the servers if they’re overwhelmed, I find myself having to fulfill drink orders and assist the diners with wine selections multiple times to cover for the servers’ understandable first-day jitters.
Their fumbles remind me of my first day working with Edward. I try to push thoughts of him out of my mind, but every minute that passes, I know I’m only getting closer to his arrival. Like helpless prey being slowly reeled into a spider’s web.
Edward’s reservation for tonight’s dinner wasn’t on the phone reservation list or our online booking system. But I knew Edward wouldn’t feel the need to reserve seating at his brother’s restaurant opening, so I purposely placed a “RESERVED” sign on the corner booth. No one had to ask who it was for.
Despite occasional thoughts of my ex’s imminent arrival, I manage to stay on task. When Ethan pops out of the kitchen around seven p.m., I’m certain this is it. Edward must be arriving soon.
But Ethan seems drawn like a magnet to a table near the window where an older couple have just been seated. They engage in an animated conversation full of laughter and lots of head-shaking.
“Who are they?” I whisper to Lily as she looks up a reservation on the computer for a couple of college-aged women who just walked in.
“Who?” she says then, addressing the couple, “You’re all checked in, but you’re a few minutes early. So, you can have a seat over there until your table is ready.”
I wait until the women are seated before I motion to the couple Ethan is speaking to. “Them.”
Lily squints at the couple. “I don’t know. Must be important if Ethan left the kitchen for them.”
Just then, Ethan pats the man on the shoulder and heads back toward the kitchen. I want to look away, but even the way he walks is attractive. His lean body moves in long, purposeful strides. Something about the serious look in his eyes makes me want to grab his face and kiss him.
I let out a soft sigh and, before I can tear my gaze away, he glances at me and winks.
Did he seriously just wink at me?
He knows I was staring at him. He knows I wanted him to kiss me earlier. He knows I’m hopelessly attracted to him.
“Are you okay?” Lily asks as she grabs a couple menus off the built-in shelf beneath the surface of the reception desk.
I nod, unable to speak as my throat constricts with shame, and she sets off to show the two young women to their table.
My vision blurs as I remember that mortifying moment a few hours ago when I thought Ethan was going to kiss me. How could I have been so stupid? Just because he complimented my ass at the hotel doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me. Or that he sees me as anything more than an employee.
“Hello, Alice.”
The sound of Edward’s voice turns my blood to ice, shocking me out of my embarrassing thoughts.
I turn to the group of four people standing in front of the reception desk. My eye twitches when I find Edward standing arm-in-arm with a slim, lavender-haired woman who can’t be older than twenty-two. The couple standing behind them are engaged in conversation and oblivious to me.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Edward.”
As much as I hate to admit it, the man looks good. His hair is combed back in a neat quiff, and he’s wearing a slim-fit gray suit with a matching waistcoat. His outfit looks like it cost more than my pay as an intern at Le Cordon Bleu for an entire term.
“Good to see you working again,” he says with a smile that makes the hairs on my neck stand up.
My nostrils flare as I attempt to take deep breaths and stay present. But the last time I saw Edward begins replaying in my mind, and I find myself unable to speak.
In times of stress, humans have three responses: fight, flight, or freeze. And my brain has decided fight-or-flight will not cut it today.
Edward is saying something, but I can’t hear him. It’s as if someone has turned the volume up on the background conversations and the scrape of utensils on dinner plates.
“Alice?”
The music playing through the overhead speakers seems to blare in my ears: “A Sunday Kind of Love” by Etta James. The low hum of traffic outside suddenly gets much louder. The sound of a loud car horn makes me flinch, as if it’s right next to me.
“Alice!”
I blink my eyes at the sound of my name being shouted, and I’m almost surprised to find Edward still standing there. “Good…” I squint my eyes at him. “Good to see me working again?” I finally manage to force the words out. “Good to see me working again? Is that what you said to me?”
The smirk on his face disappears. “I was only making small-talk. Can we be seated now?”
I clench my jaw to keep from losing my cool, but it does nothing to calm the rage burning inside me. “Don’t you dare try to pretend you’re happy to see me working again. If it were up to you, I’d still be unemployed and broke.”
He cocks an eyebrow as if he’s bored with me. “This is quite unprofessional, don’t you think?” His eyes search the restaurant for another host or hostess. “Surely, there’s someone else who can seat us.”
“Is this your ex?” the lavender-haired girl asks Edward, pointing a skinny finger in my direction.
“Is it that obvious?” he says, rolling his eyes.
They both chuckle in unison, and there’s such familiarity in the way they relate to each other. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this. This strange woman and Edward have probably been laughing at me in unison for months.
“Is everything okay?” Lily asks as she finally returns to the reception desk.
“No, it’s not,” Edward replies. “I might have to drop a note in the suggestion box about this one,” he says, nodding toward me as if I’m not there. “Can you please seat us, dear?”
Lily looks at me and I wonder if my face is as pale now as it was when I left Ethan’s office earlier. “Are you okay?” she asks, ignoring Edward’s request to be seated.