Too many.
"I apologize for the inconvenience. Let me see what I can do."
"You should have done your job right the first time."
I want to tell him that I didn't cook his steak. That I'm just the messenger between him and the kitchen. Maybe if he weren't such a pretentious asshole, he'd realize his meal is exactly what he ordered.
But I don't. Because I need this job. Because I need the tips. Because I'm Sutton Webb, the scholarship kid, who has to smile and take it from people like him.
With one hundred thousand dollars, I'd never have to deal with assholes like this guy again.
I could focus entirely on my studies for my last semester and actually enjoy my senior year instead of constantly juggling work, school, and hockey while trying to keep my relationship afloat.
The thought is seductive. Dangerously so.
And correction, there wouldn’t be a relationship to keep afloat. The deal is, I have to dump Declan. I have to move out of the house.
That means I’d lose not just Declan, but all his friends, too. Even my roommates and the guys I thought were my friends.
I take his plate back to the kitchen, where the head cook takes one look at it and rolls his eyes.
"Let me guess. Thinks it's overcooked?"
"Yep."
"It's perfect. Some people just like to complain." He starts preparing another one anyway. "Rich assholes."
Rich assholes who prove exactly why I don't belong in Declan's world.
Because that's what I'll be dealing with forever if I stay with him. His father's friends. Team owners. Sponsors. People who look at me and see exactly what that man at table nine sees—someone beneath them. Someone whose only value is in how well she serves.
And I could never be like them. I couldn’t be like Bree. I don’t want to be.
I lean against the counter, waiting for the new steak, and let myself imagine it for just a moment.
Taking the money. Moving to Boston. Starting my job at the state lab. Building a life that's entirely mine, not dependent on anyone else.
No more worrying about whether I'm good enough for Declan's world. No more feeling like I have to prove myself to people who've already decided I don't measure up. No more being the girl who doesn't belong.
I could just be Sutton. Forensic scientist. Independent. Successful on my own terms.
And Quantico. God, Quantico.
That's not just a job. That'sthejob. The kind of position that opens every door in forensics. The kind of opportunity that people spend their entire careers trying to achieve.
His father could make that happen with one phone call.
One phone call, and I'd have everything I've worked for since I was sixteen, when I decided I wanted to work in forensic science.
Everything except Declan.
The thought hits me like a punch to the stomach.
The cook slides the new steak across the counter. "Here. Tell him if he doesn't like this one, he can cook it himself."
I manage a weak smile and carry it back out.
The man at table nine barely grunts his acknowledgment when I set it down. No, thank you. No apology for being an ass. Just an entitled assumption that this is what he deserves.
