Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
It sucks, but…it is what it is.
Swiping the tears from my eyes and putting on my “nothing phases this bitch” face, I head back into the kitchen to finish marinating giant tubs of chicken breast. By the time Tessa and I have finished the prep for the local leader summit banquet she’s catering tomorrow, it’s nearly five o’clock.
I wash my hands, cursing as I see the traffic getting hairy outside. “I told Delores I’d be by around four-thirty. Where did the time go?”
Tessa sighs. “It was sucked into the work vortex. It’s similar to the laundry vortex. I have four loads waiting for me at home. Two that need washing and two that need folding.”
I shake my head and toss my apron into the dirty linen basket in the corner. “That’s where you’re living life wrong, woman. We never fold. We just pull clean clothes from the clean basket. Folding is an exercise in futility. Especially with a toddler.” I hold a hand toward her, fingers spread. “I hereby absolve you of folding guilt. Go home and make yourself a yummy dinner and take a load off. You deserve it.”
She laughs. “Thanks, boss. You, too.” She grins as she adds in a sly voice, “After you check on your sexy boy toy, of course.”
I roll my eyes and reach for my coat on the hook by the back door. “He’s not my boy toy.”
“But you liked how I emphasized that you were at the hospital with him all night when Ben was here, right? Show him he’s not the only person moving on.”
I shrug on my coat and reach for the bag full of soup and bread I packed up earlier for the Boudreauxs. “I guess. Not that he’s going to care.”
“He cares,” Tessa says. “All men care when their ex hooks up with someone new. Even if they’ve already moved on.”
“Even if they’ve decided they prefer sausage to tacos?” I mutter beneath my breath, but Tessa has excellent hearing.
“Yes, even then. Though I prefer honey pot to taco. Sounds classier.”
“How about bearded clam? That’s pretty classy.”
Tessa gags. “Ew. You’re nasty. Get out of here, I’ll lock up.” She flaps her hands, shooing me out the door. “Go do good deeds. You owe the world a good deed after letting that foulness emerge from your mouth.”
Laughing, I head outside, piling into my vintage VW bug, Charlotte. Charlotte and I have been through almost every stage of life together. From when I first saved up to buy her in high school, to my culinary school graduation, to my wedding day, and the morning we brought Chase home from the hospital. I love her to the moon and back, even if her heating system does take forever to warm up, ensuring I’m freezing all the way over to Delores’s house.
I’m nearly to the turn off for the subdivision—one I’ve been to a hundred times, since my brother, Barrett, lives right next door to Delores—when my phone starts to bleat. I fumble in my purse. When I see it’s Tessa, I tap the answer button and put her on speakerphone. “What’s up? Are you still traumatized by thoughts of the bearded clam?”
“Ew,” she says again. “Yes, but that’s not why I’m calling. Two of the waitstaff just called in sick for tomorrow. Seth has strep throat and Becca twisted her ankle roller-skating with her niece.”
I curse. “Did you try Greg?” Greg quit last summer to bartend full-time at a hopping spot downtown, but sometimes he’ll fill in for us in a pinch.
“I did, but he’s already on the schedule at the bar. I tried to guilt my cousin Nancy into helping out, but she’s still mad at me for skipping her third wedding shower last fall. But I’d already bought two presents for the other showers. I literally could not afford another one.”
“Ugh, Bridezillas are the worst. Okay, let me do some thinking on who we can try next, and I’ll get back to you.”
I end the call and rack my brain. My mom and dad are out of town on vacation in Florida, and I’ve asked my brothers and sisters to help out with Chase way too often lately. I could always ask Ben if he can pick Chase up from daycare tomorrow again, and I can come get him after I’m done serving at the banquet, but the thought makes the black hole in my chest open up and make horrible black hole sounds.
I don’t want to miss a single minute of my time with Chase. But if I have no choice, I really don’t want to ask Ben for help. It’s just another excuse for him to insist I have too many balls in the air.
I don’t have too many balls, I have too few hands. Back when I had a partner—a partner I’d taken for granted would be sticking around when I decided to expand the business—I had no problem managing everything.