Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Will I see him tonight? He made it clear he was coming back, but he didn’t say when. I know he doesn’t live in Buffalo, Fabio mentioned that he was coming to eat with his assistant, but he wouldn’t be staying in Buffalo. Franco’s a very busy man, so maybe he really wants us to see each other on Christmas. Will he call me before then? I hope so.
Suddenly, I sit up in bed; it’s not pleasure, romance, or even happiness that passes over me. A sense of foreboding fills me up—a dread that’s palpable. I rush to dress and try to figure out why I’m so bothered. Something in my gut tells me it’s about Franco. Needing coffee to function and puzzle all this out, I leave my room. Maybe I should text Fabio. After all, he teased me the rest of the night about becoming his sister-in-law.
My sister comes strolling out of her bedroom, looking at me sideways like I’ve suddenly grown two heads. I’m up earlier than usual, but it’s like she’s examining me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you look devastated. We’re twins, and I can sense something’s wrong with you. What’s going on?” She pulls me into a hug, which I greedily accept because that overwhelming sense hasn’t passed.
I shake my head and take a step back. “Actually, nothing in particular. I just had this super bad feeling when I woke up.”
“Like what?”
I can’t put my finger on it. “Like something’s wrong, which is strange because nothing shitty happened at work, other than Andre dropping a pot of sauce that took forever to clean up.”
“Well, you look like shit.” I can’t disagree with that. “Come on. I’ll make you some coffee.” She hooks my arm with hers, and we head over to the kitchen. It’s one great thing about an open floor plan—plenty of space to walk. Other than her clutter near the sofa with all her computers and notepads and the treadmill in the corner of the living room, the house is pretty bare, and we like to keep it that way.
“What are you doing up so early?” I ask her. Anabelle is usually up before I am, but not this early.
“Besides the racket you were making getting dressed, I’ve got a lot of work to do today so I wanted to get a head start on my day.” She saunters off, grabbing the coffee pot out of the dishwasher. I may be a chef, but she makes one hell of a cup of coffee. I bring out the large container of Dunkin’ we snag from Costco once a month during our shopping trips. We don’t need much food, often because we’re both busy; usually I eat at the restaurant, and she grabs some takeout. Still, we always have coffee in the house.
“I was that loud?” Normally I’m not in a rush, so I’ll remember to be quieter since we do have very different time schedules.
“No. You’re just usually asleep for another two hours, and I was doing some yoga. Perhaps you should give it a go. It’ll help with that tension you’ve got in your shoulders.”
“I think that might be a torn rotator cuff,” I say offhandedly, popping a seat on a stool under the island while rolling my right shoulder.
She raises her brow, freezing mid scoop. “Damn, it’s still cracking? You should see a doctor.” There’s that look that says it all. It’s not a maybe, in her mind. It’s a “get the hell out and get it taken care of like yesterday.”
I sigh, knowing she’s probably right and I’ve just created a monster, but I’m not ready to dip into any vacation time. “It’s not bad, but it gets harder on long, busy nights. I don’t want to take time off when Fabio has finally given me my chance. I’m only twenty-two and if I blow this, my career could be over before it starts.”
I’ve only been working for Fabio for two years, first as a dishwasher and then working my way up the chain until about six months ago when our head chef quit to start his own restaurant. He’d gotten into an argument one too many times with Fabio, and so I filled in for a couple of nights until people called in to ask for reservations on nights I was scheduled. It’s been one hell of a six months, and I love every minute of it so I can’t afford to just push pause on my career because I may never get a shot like this again. I’m too young to be taking time off for surgery.
“Relax. You’re going to fuck it up if you continue to work like a dog, and the damage is irreparable. How about you use that good insurance you have and get it looked at? I’m sure you can be seen in the next couple of hours.”