Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Fuck, he cheated?” I join her in shaking my head. “Yep, no way I would’ve been able to tell her no either. You’re off the hook.”
“Yeah, she kinda let that slip when she was practically word-vomiting her whole story when I was just about to tell her we needed someone experienced. So like, don’t bring it up that you know, okay? The poor thing was embarrassed enough,” she tells me, and I nod.
“No worries. So she’s coming in today? You staying to start training her, or do you need to go?” I ask, looking down at my Apple Watch and seeing it’s close to 4:30 p.m.
“I’m good to stay today. My girlfriend is working late tonight at the art gallery, so it’s no big deal.”
I smile. “How is Hannah?”
Stephanie grins. “Amazing. One of her own paintings sold last week and she’s been in the best mood ever since. And I’ve been reaping the benefits of that good mood.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I chuckle, ignoring the tiny modicum of jealousy that sparks. What would it be like to be in a relationship that was full of love and passion like Stephanie had with her partner?
I’ll never know.
“That’s awesome,” I say. “Keep an eye out if she paints anything you think would look good here in the restaurant. Or hell, if she wants to just hang some here with a little for sale sign by it, she knows we get a shitload of traffic. I’m sure her pieces would sell in a heartbeat.”
“Oh my gosh, she’ll die. Thanks, boss. I’ll let her know.”
I sit up in the chair and then stand. “No problem. Let me know when you take a break with the new girl. I’d like to meet her before the dinner rush starts.”
“Will do,” she calls after me as I head to the kitchen to take inventory.
Cece
My heart is racing faster than I ever remember. The only time I’ve ever been this nervous in my life was during my c-sections, which is ridiculous, since it’s just my first shift at my new job. It’s not like I’m having major surgery to bring another life into the world.
I mean, how hard can it be? I’ll take someone’s order, give it to the cook, and then take the meals to the table when they’re ready. Easy.
I blow out a breath as I finish tying my new nonslip sneakers I got at Walmart and grab my purse from my passenger seat. I left my house fifteen minutes ago to the sound of my girls and sister yelling on the front porch like cheerleaders, rooting me on and chanting for me to have a good first day. It brought tears to my eyes, seeing how I’d been expecting my little ones to be bummed I wouldn’t be home tonight, and instead they were excited for me. Totally blew my mind in the best way possible.
But now that I sit in my SUV in the parking lot of the restaurant, I can’t help but feel guilt over the fact I’m not home right now taking care of my own children, feeding them a meal I cooked myself instead of one given to us by the restaurant before me. Is this what moms who have always gone to work every day feel each time they leave their babies?
Or maybe I’m just overly emotional because of all the unexpected shit going on in my life and I’m just being sensitive.
Shaking off my funk, I open my door, get out, and close it behind me, pushing the button to lock it up as I make my way to the door of the restaurant. When I enter, it’s still dead because of the time. Still too early for dinner, which is a relief, because it means I’ll have a little time to absorb what Stephanie has to teach me before the chaos ensues.
Just like it did before, the moment I step inside, a sense of home washes over me. It’s the weirdest thing. It’s the type of feeling I get when I go visit my family back in Montana, or when I’m at home and sink down in the tub of my giant bathroom with a good book. Like a weight lifts off and feel like I can breathe a little easier with the familiarity. Which is strange since I had never stepped foot inside this place before today. Maybe it’s just the relief that this place and the woman who hired me are giving me the first spark of hope for my new normal to not be so daunting after all.
“Cece! You made it, and five minutes early,” Stephanie calls as she steps out of the back and behind the bar.
I smile as I make my way to her. “Yeah, it was really strange. I thought I’d have to spend a few minutes consoling my kids that I wouldn’t be home tonight because I’m starting my new job, and instead they practically shoved me out the door.”