Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Seeming to realize I didn’t expect him to be here, he says, “Hollis let me in, said you were still asleep. I take it Calvin decided to surprise you.”
“Yes, he likes to do that,” I murmur, glancing at the grocery bags and kitchen accoutrements on my counter. A couple of things aren’t mine.
Chef Ryan gestures to the counter. “He left you a note, it’s in the gift bag.”
I leave my metal bar propped against the wall and walk over to grab the black envelope sticking out of the gold gift bag. It’s a high quality envelope, the fancy kind with rich gold lining like a wedding invitation, but it’s just a personal note card. In what I assume must be Calvin’s handwriting, it reads, “Good morning, sweetheart. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up, but I have to work to pay for those lavish dates you so enjoy.”
I roll my eyes at his teasing, then read the rest.
“Chef Ryan is preparing you breakfast and lunch so you can concentrate on whatever else you have to do today. I know how much you dislike cooking.”
Reluctantly, my lips tug upward a bit. I’m glad he isn’t here to see it.
The last of it reads, “If you want dinner, you can come to my place and he’ll make it for both of us. I can send Hollis to pick you up.” Beneath that is a decisive dash and his name, as if this craziness could be from literally anyone else.
Lifting my gaze, I assure Chef Ryan, “You do not have to stay to make me lunch. I really appreciate you making me breakfast, but that’s absurd. He’s ridiculous.”
Chef Ryan smiles at me over his shoulder. “No worries, I don’t have to stay. I’ll prep you a nice salad while you eat breakfast, it can chill in the refrigerator until you’re ready to eat it, then you can just sprinkle on the almonds so they’re nice and crisp, drizzle the container of dresser I make to go with it, and voila. I have to stay anyway to clean up the mess.”
I glance at the bags of almonds and dried cranberries on the counter beside what I assume is the container he plans to store my salad in while it chills. “No. Honestly, I can do that. You’ve done too much already.”
“It’s my job, Miss Meadows,” he says gently. “I’m paid to do it. Really, I don’t mind. Your boyfriend wanted to take care of things for you today, so let me do it. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
I don’t know how to tell him that it isn’t him being “in my hair” that feels awkward, I’m just not used to people doing things for me. I’ve certainly never had servants, and even though logically I understand he was paid to cook for me today and clean up the mess, it still feels like I’m making a stranger take care of me.
I’m still trying to figure it out when he steps away from the stove and grabs a bowl of fresh sliced fruit off the counter. “Here you go, you can start with this if you want to. I’ll have the rest finished in no time.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the bowl and looking down at the juicy chunks of pineapple, grapes, and strawberries so red and juicy, they make my mouth water. “All my favorite fruits,” I murmur, a bit surprised.
He smiles benignly like he isn’t surprised to hear that. I don’t know what else to do, so I walk around to have a seat at the small island counter where I usually eat meals alone. I pop a piece of pineapple into my mouth, then drag the gift bag in front of me so I can see what’s inside.
There’s a box inside with another note attached. It reads simply, “To hold up your own books someday.”
When I open the box, I find a pair of bookends nestled in a stiff bed of Styrofoam. William the hippo bookends, to be more specific. He must have bought it at the Met gift store as soon as it opened this morning.
That was sort of… thoughtful.
Shaking off the errant thought, I put the hippo back in the gift bag and try not to think too much about what his note says. I don’t know why I even mentioned how I’d love to spend time writing my own books someday. I never share that with anybody.
While I eat the delicious breakfast Chef Ryan has prepared for me, I open my laptop and check my work emails. When I’m done with that, I go grab my phone half-expecting to see a text from Calvin. There aren’t any, but I do have a missed call from Charity.
On my way back to the living room/kitchen area, I call her back. When the line connects, rather than an actual greeting I get a string of curses, each dirtier than the last.