Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
I take a deep breath. Oh, boy. And I decide to take the front door instead of the back today. If Delilah’s in a scary mood, I’d rather catch the tail end of it rather than get picked up and carried away by the full force.
Luckily, there are fresh aprons on the counter, so I grab one and quickly start setting up for breakfast service while Delilah continues to badger the boys out back.
What could be going on? I wonder.
Then a thought creeps into my mind.
What if…?
“No,” I whisper to myself. “Don’t even think it.”
If I think it, I’ll jinx it. Lyle said he would make it work, and it’s up to him to make it work. Their relationship is complicated to say the least. I can’t just go expecting things to happen overnight, and I’m not about to put that out there either. There are a million things Delilah could be upset about…especially with her personality.
The swinging door to the kitchen bursts open, and Delilah enters like a storm. Her eyes lock on to me like lasers, and I do my best not to flinch.
“Oh, you made it,” she snaps, acting like I’m not three minutes early. I don’t mention it.
“Yup.” I smile. “Made it.”
“Okay, get everything ready for the breakfast service,” she continues, which is precisely what I’m already doing. “And make sure all the plates are clean. Nate did a shit job with the dishes last night. Okay?”
“Yup, no problem.” I give her my best charm, not wanting any of the vitriol I heard earlier to land on me. For a moment, she looks like she wants to curse me out or something, but then she decides to pull her phone out of her pocket and check it. As I’m re-checking the coffee mugs, she goes into the back, and I’m pretty sure I hear her step outside.
The rest of the day goes pretty much the same. Delilah is short with the kitchen staff mostly, although I do catch a couple stray missiles from her toward the end of lunch during the rush when I’m completely swamped and on my own and don’t perfectly stack my dirty dishes in the back like they’re being set up for a photoshoot.
I can’t stop watching the clock throughout the afternoon either, thinking about Lyle and our dinner tonight that’s supposed to be happening, which of course just makes my shift feel twice as long. And when 4:30 rolls around, Delilah tells me she needs me to stick around and make sure Nate does the dishes right this time and doesn’t “fuck them up royally” like last night.
So of course I stay. What am I going to do? Tell her I’ve got a date with Lyle? Yeah, that would go over real well. But by the time I’m headed home, I’m practically sprinting back to the apartment.
I dive immediately into the shower and start to wash all the smell of coffee, bacon, burgers and everything else that comes with the diner off of me. If this happens tonight, I can’t remind Lyle of a discount diner where his girlfriend, or maybe ex-girlfriend, works that you can get a burger and fries and a drink for under ten dollars.
I’m just finishing doing my hair when I hear the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs – heavy, manly footsteps.
My heart starts to beat faster, and I try to relax and not burn off my ends or my fingertips on my flat iron. There’s a knock and I take a deep breath. “Come on in!” I call out.
I hear the door open and Lyle’s voice call out, “Yara?”
“Two seconds!” I call back.
This is it, I think as I suck in another deep breath. Why am I so nervous? I don’t even know if we’re going anywhere tonight. It could be that the whole thing fell through and I’m just going to be sitting here alone in the apartment for the rest of the evening.
“All set to go?” he asks as he comes into the room. He looks even more handsome than normal, with blue jeans, a black T-shirt, a black leather jacket on, and his hair even styled a bit in that messy look that totally suits him. I immediately want to throw myself into his arms. He looks me up and down, sees the dark jeans and white blouse I’m wearing, and nods. “You look great.”
I know he’s just being nice. I don’t really have any great date outfits, so I’m wearing the best I’ve got. But I smile anyway. “Thank you.”
“But you know what?” he says, a sly look on his face. “I feel like you would look amazing in this…”
He steps back out of sight, and when he comes back, he’s holding a pair of black heels and a beautiful, sleek, not-too-formal, black dress.