It’s been two days since our outing, and I’ve only seen her at breakfast. And although they’ve been successfully sans insults, I need to make more headway. But I can’t just ask her to watch a movie or hang out—she’ll say no.
Thus the birth of tonight’s harebrained genius: get her to the restaurant to spend time with me in my element.
It was actually Felix, my sommelier’s, idea. He even chose the wine for me to pretend to forget.
“We’re sure this is gonna work?” I say, looking up at the table full of kitchen staff, aka twenty cupids.
They’re all nodding as Felix points to my phone, his heavy French accent eating up his words.
“Yes. It’s like a rom-com. She’ll eat, drink, and then sometime during the night, she’ll look up, and you’ll be talking and looking distinguished ... and bam, that’s when she’ll think to herself,Wow, he’s special. My heart needs him.”
I narrow my eyes. This sounds so much dumber the second time around.
A deep laugh from the table precedes, “Is her heart under or below her belly button?”
Napkins fly at one of the younger line cooks, accompanied by insults and curses.
“I will fire you,” I bark, shaking my head and pointing at him.
He lifts his hands, looking apologetic. “Joking ... joking ... on my best behavior, I swear it, Chef.”
A heavy breath leaves me. Damn, I’m nervous.
“This is a terrible idea,” I breathe out, dropping my phone to the table. “I can’t bring her here with you swine.”
They laugh, but Felix shakes his head and hands my phone back to me.
“Let her see you. A woman will never fall for a man unless he invites her into his life. Tonight is about you. She should be here. And if what you say about her is true, she can more than handle Gage over there.”
I groan before I nod and let my fingers fly over the keys.
Me:Hey, what are the chances you’re home?
Immediate bubbles.Yes.
Evil:If you were a betting man, you’d be a winner. Why?
I’ll never admit that I already know she is because I may have peeked at her schedule yesterday. But a man has to do what he has to do to facilitate love. It’s not like she makes it easy.
How am I supposed to show her how diverse my personality portfolio is if I’m only relegated to watching her eat crepes?
Me:Amazing. I need a favor.
Evil:Sorry ... who is this? I don’t have this number saved.
I chuckle.
Me:Don’t be a hater. You’re home and you’re my friend, remember?
Evil:You lost me at friend
A smile breaks out on my face. She’s so mean. Fuck, it’s such a turn-on.
Me:Come on, Evil ... I thought we were past all the hate. I’m desperate.
Evil:I mean I’ve known this for quite some time.
Me:Glad you’re gaining some self-awareness.
