And it was time to find out if he still loved me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Kallum
My family didn’t believe in hotels. For as long as I could remember, any time we visited a city or country with even a distant relative in a fifty-mile radius, we stayed with them rather than getting a hotel. In fact, in advance of our INK tours, my mom would send me a list of names and numbers of every last relative she could think of and the corresponding city they lived in no matter how many times I reminded her that we had hotels booked and a literal tour bus with beds for sleeping.
So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when my sister called the day before she and the rest of the family were flying out to LA for the grand opening of Slice, Slice, Baby to see if I had a hair dryer.
“No,” I said, “but I’m sure your hotel will have one.”
“If I could reach through this phone, and smack you, I would,” she said. “You know Mom would die if we stayed in a hotel.”
“Tam, my apartment is a two-bed, one-bath. And I use the wordbedloosely. It’s more like one-bed and a closet.”
She sighed over the sound of a screaming child. “You don’t think I don’t want to stay in a hotel where nice people bring you endless fresh towels and my gremlin children can belly flop into a pool and eat free waffles?”
“Well,” I said, sounding more smug than I deserved to be, “I guess it’s a good thing that I went to Target and bought every air mattress and towel they had. I also put my Keurig away and bought one of those ancient Mr.Coffee machines Mom loves.”
“Did I tell you she’s packing one to take on the cruise?”
I groaned. Of course she was. I was still bummed to miss the family on Hanukkah, but at least the baby would be here by then and I’d be knee deep in diapers and onesies. And Bee and Nolan would totally spend a night lighting the menorah with me. Maybe even Isaac.
“Is Winnie coming to the opening?” Tamara asked.
“She’s invited,” I said. My sister had done a great job of deflecting our parents’ questions about my relationship with Winnie, but I knew they were all curious. I wanted to give them some kind of answer, but saying the truth out loud, that we were just friends, wasn’t something I was quite ready to do.
The whole family flew in, and sure enough, we all crammed into the cozy little apartment I currently (and temporarily!) shared with Topher. I got a tent for the kids to “camp” in theliving room. I took the couch. Topher took an air mattress while his parents took his room and Mom and Dad took my room. The sleeping arrangements were the easy part. It was the bathroom that concerned me, but honestly I was too busy getting the new location ready to spend much time at home.
Topher played tour guide, taking Mom to see the tar pits and Tamara on a celebrity home tour. He even got to drive everyone by the culinary school he’d be attending part-time. Mom cooed over the crib I’d built and Dad chuckled at the pizza mobile hanging above.
“Can’t wait to meet our new grandbaby,” Dad said as he clapped me on the back.
“Me too,” I whispered as I watched over the empty crib, with laughter, family, and one very grumpy cat behind me. The apartment was full of all good things, but it still felt empty.
I got to the restaurant early in the morning to prep. I didn’t actually have any more work to do, but I couldn’t sleep. It was either the nerves or the triplets nearly lighting my microwave on fire when they decided to see how flammable my remote control was.
Still, I headed to the restaurant and checked on my dough before chopping extra toppings and triple-checking the soda fountain. By the time my staff showed up, their work was done for them.
As I sat down in the office, my phone chimed with a text.
Winnie Baker:Good luck today!
Disappointment settled in my chest. She wasn’t coming. That was fine. It would be busy hopefully, and I’d hardly have a chance to even talk to her. And she’d still be able to meet my family before they left.
“Uh, boss?” Samantha called as she poked her head around the corner. Her double nose rings glittered in the dim light. “We’ve got a line. Like a major line. And some paparazzi are here too.”
“What? Are you serious? Must be a slow day for gossip.” I’d never been happy to hear paparazzi were waiting outside of a building for me, but I knew enough to know that sometimes tabloid attention wasn’t always bad.
I stood up and took off my flour-dusted apron before walking out into the kitchen. I’d hired a staff of twelve, and they were all on the schedule today. They were good and smart and hardworking and way too young to give a shit about INK, which was for the best.
“Okay, team, I’m not very good at inspirational speeches,” I said as I eyed the digital clock on the wall. “But I am great at pizza and so are the rest of you. Our only job today is to make people happy with great food. It’s going to be a little chaotic, so just take it easy. Ask for help when you need it. Don’t let customers bully you, because in this house, the customer isn’t always right.”
That got a few dry laughs.
“I might be from the Midwest, but I have a no-jerk policy.” I pointed to the rules painted on the wall of the dining room that we could see from the kitchen.
The Pizza Commandments:
