Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
As promised, I brought in a team to assist her. As soon as she got the go-ahead from her doctor, she hit the ground running. So much so that I worried she was overworking herself. She was still easily tired because of her concussion, and I sometimes regretted not encouraging more time for recovery. She wouldn’t rest. At one point, I threatened to shut everything down if she didn’t take a break or slow down. I remember our fight, threatening to do just that.
"Dammit, Fay. You have to slow down.”
“I’m fine. If I don’t take care of this, it won’t be ready in time.”
“That’s why you have an entire army behind you. Let them do their jobs. You need a break.”
“No, I need to make sure this is all perfect.”
“Fay, for Christ’s sake. You’re running yourself ragged. You’re not sleeping. Are you even eating?”
“What? I ate this morning. You saw me.”
“Eating the foam off your cappuccino isn’t a meal. The doctor said it will take time to heal from your accident and concussion. And you’re not giving yourself that. I’m worried.”
Her hands flail over her head. “Worried? You offer me this great opportunity, and now you want to take it away?” She pouts, tears forming in her eyes. I hate that she’s starting to cry, but I know it’s from exhaustion. Nightmares have been keeping her awake, so she’s trying not to sleep at all.
“I just want you to slow down.”
“No, you want to control me and tell me what I can and can’t do.” She crosses her arms over her chest. If it keeps her safe, healthy, and happy, I’ll sure as fuck control her.
“You’re right. And I’ve stated my case.” I reach into my suit jacket and hand her a paper.
“What’s this?”
“Your ultimatum.”
She unfolds the paper, and I watch her eyes widen. She looks at the sheet and then at me. “You. . . you’re. . . why are you giving me the Netflix bill?” I hate the tears that drop down her face, but I need her to know how serious I am.
“Because I care more about you than that restaurant. I care about your health and well-being more than anything. If anything starts to jeopardize that, I will step in and put a stop to it.”
“Yeah, but you’re handing me the Netflix bill. The Netflix bill. I don’t want the Netflix bill.”
Pulling her to me, I rip the damn bill out of her hand and toss it aside while she sobs on my shoulder. “So, maybe I am a little tired. And hungry. And possibly really stressed out. I just want it all to be perfect. I want to prove—”
“You don’t owe anyone anything. You certainly don’t need to prove anything to that fuck head Hamlin or Miguel Lorenzo. You are Fay fucking Evans. You shine so brightly that there is no competition. You’re you—and that’s enough.” I pull her from my chest and kiss the tip of her nose. “Beautiful.”
“Being beautiful has nothing to do with cooking.”
“It has everything to do with it. When you have a beautiful soul, that beauty shines in your food. And that’s why no one will ever be able to compete with you.” She stares up at me, her eyes touching my soul. “I love you. I’m here for you every step of the way. I just ask that you slow down. This is me asking. Even saying please.” She chuckles and wipes at her cheeks.
Sighing, she replies. “You probably could have just said please in the first place. You didn’t have to go all beast mode and bring out the Netflix bill—which is kind of high, and pretty low, by the way.”
“I needed your attention.”
“Well, now you have it.”
I kiss her lips. “Good.” The doorbell rings, and she glances over my shoulder.
“Are you expecting someone?” she asks as I release her and walk to the door.
“Yes,” I say, opening the door to her spunky girlfriend.
“Am I early?” She glances at both of us. “Late?”
“What are you—?”Fay starts, but I cut her off.
“She was my reinforcement if the streaming account bill didn’t work.”
Her mouth drops, and I want to toss her friend back out and kiss that look off her face.
“You called Mindy?”
“Oh, girl. No. He didn’t just call me. He risked his life and showed up at Bev’s. Begged me to help drink some sense into you.”
“I didn’t say drink.”
Her friend turns to me. “Talking sense into this one requires drinking. Might wanna take notes.” Then she glances back at our girl. “If he didn’t make it out of the scary bar, I vowed to take care of you and make sure you lived the rest of your life happy and drunk.”
“Didn’t say any of that—”
“Thank god he made it back to you alive.”
Surprisingly, while I’m getting annoyed, Fay starts to chuckle.