Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Me: I’ll check their schedule and see what home games they have coming up in June.
Sammy: You think Kara would like to come?
Her thoughtfulness toward my sister doesn’t go unnoticed.
Me: I think she’d love to come, so long as she’s having a good day when the time comes. I’ll talk to Mary about it.
“Noah, you ready?” Cameron, one of the OR nurses, peeks her head out of the surgery room to find me standing by the sink.
“Give me two minutes, and I’ll be there.”
Fingers to the keys, I send one final text to Sammy.
Me: I’m being called into surgery now, but try to have a good day, okay? PS: My first text still rings true, no matter how cheesy you think it is. I miss you.
Sammy: I miss you too, Cheese Ball. And I’ll call you after work tonight.
Yeah, it’s official. The all-consuming, heart-racing, stomach-aching, I’m-going-to-throw-up-if-this-doesn’t-work-out feeling is coming in loud and clear this time around.
Three back-to-back surgeries and several inpatient visits should have me dead on my feet, but I guess Sammy Baker puts too much pep in my step for that.
My normal routine would include a quick stop for takeout and calling it an early night, but since Dolly is sleeping over at Brooke and Chase’s, I can’t stop myself from stopping by La Croisette to see Sammy.
I know she’s probably busy. I know I’ll probably have all of two minutes to say hello. I know all of this, but it doesn’t deter me from heading straight there after I leave the hospital.
With the way I’m missing her, even two minutes is better than none.
The instant I walk through the fancy glass entrance doors of La Croisette, I’m reminded of the fact that it’s one of the most popular restaurants in New York. Bodies fill every available space, and the noise in just the lobby is enough to make my ears ring a little, but when I step up to the hostess stand, Nanette smiles like she’s not even feeling the pinch. People book reservations several months in advance just to get a spot, and here I am, walking in like I own the freaking place.
Pays to know the right people, I guess.
“Hey, Noah. You want a table?” Nanette asks, making a couple of heads whip in our direction. I do my best to ignore them.
“No, thanks. I’m just looking for Sammy. Have you seen her?”
“Last time I saw her, she was getting a ten-top ready with Mandy, but I have no clue where she is now. Feel free to go look yourself, though.”
With a grateful nod, I scan the dining room for Sammy, but the only familiar face I see is Chase’s sister Mo, standing toward the kitchen entrance doors chatting with one of the servers.
Without hesitation, my feet are already moving in her direction.
Thankfully, by the time I reach her, the server has headed inside the kitchen doors, and Mo’s relocated to the bar area. When her eyes meet mine, her face lights up with a smile.
“Noah,” she greets. “To what do I owe the pleasure? You trying to con me into getting you some food to-go?”
Amusement crests my lips as I shake my head. “Actually, I was hoping to see Sammy for a minute.”
“Ohhhhh.” Mo’s excited expression would make her soon-to-be sister-in-law Brooke proud. “I see. You’re here for Sammy and not my husband’s world-renowned food.”
I chuckle at that. “Yeah, but if you wanted to put in a to-go order of his chicken parmigiana, I wouldn’t stop you.”
“Consider it done.” She pats my shoulder. “And Sammy is in the back office.” She points toward the opposite end of the restaurant, where the restrooms and a few private, employee-only doors sit. “You can head on back there to say hello. I’m sure she won’t mind.” Her smile is still intact, nearly too large for her face, and her eyes bounce around with the need to know more.
Obviously, I keep my lips shut. But it’s not because I don’t want to tell anyone about what’s going on between Sammy and me. It’s because those details aren’t mine to tell. Mo may be a close family friend of Sammy’s, but she’s also her boss. Which obviously means disclosing any info about our budding relationship isn’t my call.
“Thanks, Mo,” I answer instead and head off in the direction she pointed.
It takes a little skill to carefully make my way through the maze of tables without disturbing La Croisette’s patrons, but I manage it without much issue.
I’m not a hundred percent sure where the back office is, but when I hear the sound of Sammy’s voice, I realize she’s located in the room at the very end of the narrow hallway with the door ajar.
“Now isn’t a good time,” she says to someone, her voice holding a slight edge that makes me stop just outside the door. Seeing as she’s the general manager of a restaurant like La Croisette, I’m sure she finds herself in the middle of plenty of conflicts—both in person and on the phone—and since I wasn’t exactly invited tonight, I don’t want to interrupt.