Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Chapter Eleven: Michael
It was Monday when I got the call.
I was already feeling pretty shitty because of the whole thing with Stevie. I knew that it was the right thing to end it and say that it was wrong. There were so many reasons why it would be inappropriate, why it could end in pain, and I wanted better for Stevie.
But I knew that she was hurt, and I felt like an asshole for it.
Didn’t help that I also couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was so hard not to go into the kitchen and see her, to flirt with her, to whisper in her ear all the filthy things I wanted to do to her.
And then I got that damn phone call.
I was in my office, looking at the numbers, and for once feeling like maybe I could breathe normally again. Sales and reservations were up, people seemed to really like the menu, and I was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, things were looking up. Stevie had been right.
Feeling a bit better, I answered the phone. “Hello, manager’s office.”
Usually the host stand would answer phone calls and then transfer them to me. People rarely called my direct line.
“Hi.” A smooth, charming voice sounded over the line. “This is Michael Madison, right?”
That voice put me on edge. It was the voice of someone who was selling you something. “Yes, speaking.”
“Hey there!” The voice - it was a woman - immediately got a little perkier. “I’m Sandra Bowles, I’m one of the producers for the Sizzling Summer show.”
That ridiculous name was what Theo had come up with for his show, a play on his last name.
“Hey.” Dammit. I had told them, I had told those fuckers—
“We were hoping that we could get a hold of you to discuss a rare and we think exciting opportunity. Theo wants to film an episode of his show at your restaurant. We—”
“Yeah, I’m not interested,” I replied, and then I hung up.
I really liked that my desk phone was the old-fashioned kind so I could slam down the receiver in that really satisfying way that just jamming your finger on an ‘end call’ button never could match.
That motherfucker.
And fucking Virginia. I had told her, when we had sorted out the divorce, that she could have whatever she wanted, that I would pay whatever she wanted, but that she was never going to get her damn claws in my restaurant. And neither would Theo.
Virginia was working closely with Theo on this whole project. She knew what I’d said and she could’ve told them not to do this.
I had never wanted to see Theo again and I had meant it. I’d told him that, I’d told Virginia that, I’d told that to everyone who would listen so that people would stop fucking trying to get us to reconcile.
How dare this producer - how dare Theo and Virginia - how dare any of them have the gall? How dare they think that I’d just let them waltz back in to shoot an episode when they fucked me over by leaving for LA in the first place so that Theo could become a damn celebrity chef?
Who had that kind of audacity?
Hollywood, apparently. And Theo and Virginia.
I tried to put the incident out of my mind. I had other things to worry about, mainly Stevie and the restaurant. And being careful around Brooke. She’d kill me if she found out that I’d slept with her best friend.
But two days later—
I was at the host stand, checking things for the night, when someone tapped on the host stand and cleared their throat.
I looked up from the computer and my jaw nearly dropped.
Virginia looked good. A tight, slinky dress, the kind that used to get my blood going like nothing else. She’d dyed her usually dark hair blonde, but it looked good on her. Nice makeup, if a bit dramatic for my tastes.
It was the first time I’d seen her in person in three years. Hell, I’d barely talked to her, over phone or email or anything else. We’d been lucky in a way that when we’d split, Brooke had been old enough that we didn’t need to keep communicating for her sake. She could navigate her own relationship with both of us. Saved a bit of awkwardness.
“Michael.” Virginia gave me a warm smile. Too warm.
“Virginia. You look nice.” I tried to keep from sounding too fake or hostile. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t I just stop by to see how you’re doing? How the restaurant is doing? We built it up together, after all. It was our dream.”
It used to be our dream, yes, together, but Virginia abandoned that long ago. I wasn’t going to let her choose to use that now, after she’d abandoned this place and abandoned me.