Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Luke Allen.” He laughs then thunks his head with his hand. “His name was rattling around in there among all the wine. Knew I’d remember it eventually.”
I watch as Luke bends down to take a picture with the first boy, ensuring Harper is tucked away safely behind him, not in view of the camera.
Not that it matters. She pokes her head around the side of him and smiles really big, ensuring she’s in frame as much as her famous dad. I chuckle to myself.
“How obnoxious.”
Oliver’s words take me aback.
“Parading around town with his kid like that…”
“He’s probably just out to dinner,” I say, trying to rein in my annoyance over Oliver’s assessment.
He snorts like I’m being totally clueless. “There are a million places he could go and he chooses the busiest street in Bridgehampton? The guy clearly loves attention.”
I could toss my drink on Oliver, get up, and storm away. That’s how visceral my reaction is to him talking badly about Luke and Harper. But seeing as how that’s borderline insane, or at the very least unreasonable, I’m forced to just shrug it off.
I’m proud of how calm my tone is when I respond. “You think? He doesn’t seem the type.”
“To love attention? What celebrity doesn’t?”
“Is he a celebrity?”
“He’s a famous baseball player—same thing.”
I can’t sit idly by as he continues. “Have you interacted with him before? You seem like you have a personal vendetta or something.”
He shakes his head, oblivious to the rising heat in my voice. Then he picks up his wine glass and swirls it around. Okay, you know what? If you want to talk about obnoxious, that’s obnoxious. I get that wine is his passion, but the guy has been swirling, sniffing, swishing, anything but drinking it. Just tip it back and call it a day. I’d ask him what he’s doing, but I don’t feel like getting a lecture on how long wine needs to breathe before I’m allowed to drink it.
“I would just hate dealing with a guy like that,” he goes on.
I can’t help myself. I let my gaze trail back toward Luke and Harper. They’re inside the ice cream shop now. I can see them through the large glass storefront. They’re perusing the flavors, sampling as they go. Harper makes Luke try an ice cream that’s colored bright pink, and after he tastes it, he wrinkles his nose and pulls a face. His over-the-top reaction makes her crack up laughing.
“Yeah, seems like a real monster…”
My sarcasm is utterly lost on Oliver.
I’d give anything to snap my fingers and swap places. I’d stick some other girl in my spot and dash across the street, whip open that ice cream shop door, and grab a scoop with Harper and Luke. I’d even let Harper poison me with the pink flavor.
I want it so bad.
You’re the chef here, Chloe. You get that, right?
Luke’s words from earlier make me wince. My insides clench tight, and I reach for my martini.
Dinner with Oliver and his friends that evening would have been okay if only I were in a better mood. I can’t quite seem to care about their conversation. They’re fine, nice, maybe even people I could be friends with if I were willing to try harder.
Oliver eventually catches on that the night isn’t panning out well for me. There’s only so long someone can sit in sullen silence before people take notice.
He calls it before we order dessert and offers to drive me home. I thank him for the offer but take an Uber instead so I don’t pull him away from his friends for no good reason.
I’m tempted to give my parents a call on the way home, but they know me too well. They’d detect my mood too quickly, and I don’t feel like having to explain myself. They’d be disappointed to learn that though I’ve switched jobs and moved cities, I’m still right back where I left off: overstepping my boundaries at work, getting myself into hot water.
They would surely be on Luke’s side.
That’s his daughter, Chloe. He’s going to be fiercely protective of her, just like how we would be with you.
I don’t want to hear their advice about minding my own business and keeping my head down at work. They don’t have to remind me how good this job is. It’s an absolute breeze compared to restaurant work. The pay is obscenely excellent, and beyond that, I’m enjoying it. I’d be an idiot to mess it up. The way I see it, there are two hurdles I need to get over: my infatuation with Luke and my attachment to Harper.
Sounds like I just have a big heart! Sue me!
No, wrong. I’m going to have to take a different approach moving forward. Platonic kindness, friendship from afar, boundaries.
Say it with me: booounnnndarieeees.
“Huh?” the Uber driver asks from the front seat. “Did you say something?”