Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Mila
Icheck my phone for the third time to make sure I’m not late, or early. I have to be up early to prep for the day, and I don’t know why I agreed to this date. It’s going on seven thirty, and I’m starving. My twin had the bright idea to set me up with one of our regulars, Marcus.
I’m not sure how I feel about him, but he seems nice enough. He’s not the typical guy I would go for, although now that I think about it, I’m not sure I have an actual type.
He’s some type of banker who’s always dressed nicely, whether it’s eight AM, or lunchtime when he occasionally pops in. It’s weird how his blond hair is lighter than mine, almost to the point of being white, but he has so much product in it, I doubt it’d move if he stood by a jet engine.
“Mila?” A voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I glance around to find the source.
Looks like my date has finally arrived, only thirty-five minutes late.
Marcus stands in front of me in khakis, a white button-down shirt, and a navy sweater tied around his shoulders.
Oh my God. I didn’t think people outside of movies actually dressed like that.
I’m not trying to be judgmental, but we’re in the middle of an Italian restaurant. I take in the purple sweater and black, skinny jeans I’m wearing and solidify my fear this may have been a mistake. Who wears a sweater over their shoulders to an Italian restaurant?
Remembering my manners, I stand to greet him, “Hi, Marcus.” I lean forward and give him an awkward side hug.
“Sorry I’m late. There’s no valet around here and I had to park myself, so it took me a bit longer.”
Nodding like I sympathize with him, I move to sit back down.
“Wait. Do you mind if I sit there? I prefer to sit at the left side of the table.”
Freezing, I look at him to see if he’s joking, because surely, he must be. Judging by the hopeful expression on his face, I realize he’s serious. “Oh, of course.” I move to the other side and inwardly cringe when he hands me my jacket that was draped on the back of the chair I was sitting at.
Once he’s settled, Marcus glances at the table. “Don’t they usually bring out breadsticks or something to munch on while we wait to order?” He scoffs.
Oh boy. I have a feeling I’m going to kill Mara for this. I hope he remembers that I work in food service. You can learn an awful lot about a person by the way they treat staff.
Before I can answer, our waiter comes around the corner and gives me a knowing smile.
Mara and I come here sometimes with our friend Cora, and Mateo is our favorite staff member.
He’s younger, probably around nineteen, but his parents own the restaurant, and he’s saving up for college.
We like to sit in his section and tip him well.
I remember those broke college kid days all too well.
“Oh good. Service,” Marcus begins, his eyes moving over the menu. “Can we get a bottle of red wine to start and calamari. I’ll have your mussels and my date will have a salad with the dressing on the side.”
Mateo’s eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t say anything. We’ve been here enough that he knows I have a shellfish allergy; plus, we’ve talked at length about my feelings on red wine. My go-to is the rigatoni vodka because everyone knows that carbs are a girl’s best friend.
“Actually—” I start.
“It’s fine,” Marcus interrupts. “I’ve got you covered, babe.”
Babe? This son of a—
“If I may,” Mateo interjects. “Miss Mila usually enjoys a different kind of meal.”
I watch the expression on Marcus’ face turn from disbelief to anger. “I think I know what my date enjoys, kid. You can run along and put in that order.”
And now I’m done. Giving Mateo an apologetic look, he winks at me, then heads to the back without another word.
Turning toward Marcus, I take a deep breath before I start yelling. I am going to kill Mara for this.
“What was the deal with the wink? That kid has a crush on you. ‘Miss Mila usually enjoys a different kind of meal,’” he mocks. “I hope he’s not planning on getting a good tip from me.”
I will not reach across the table and hit him. I will not strike him in a public space. I am not a violent person, I tell myself as he stares at Mateo’s retreating form.
“So, now that we have dinner ordered, let me tell you about this client I had today. The guy was the absolute worst.”
“Would you excuse me a moment?” I interrupt.
I need to get away from this table and him.
Not waiting for a response, I discretely grab my phone and head to the restroom.
On my way there, I glance behind me and see that Marcus has already pulled out his phone, not caring that I’m gone. I need an exit plan, fast.
I never thought people really behaved this way, or if they did, I’ve never witnessed it this bad.
I’m so embarrassed, I may never be able to show my face here again.
After growing up in my dad’s garage, and becoming a business owner myself, I’m absolutely disgusted. How can you treat people like that?
I grimace when I see Mateo coming my way with another basket of breadsticks. “Wow.” He laughs. “You sure can pick ’em, Mila.”
“That is not my pick. That was all Mara. Somehow, she thought I would hit it off with him.”
“You mean with Mr. Sweater Shawl out there?” He gestures toward where Marcus is currently still engrossed in his phone.
“Stop. That’s not nice,” I chide him, even though I know he’s not wrong.
“Well, neither is how he ordered for you. I may be younger than you, but even I know better than to order for a woman, especially one you made wait.”
Once again, he’s not wrong.
“You’re not seriously going to eat with that guy though, are you?” He gives me a questioning look.
“I can’t exactly leave. He's already ordered. It would be rude.”
“It can’t be ruder than how he behaved,” Mateo points out. The kid may be nineteen, but he’s smarter than some people I know. “If you tell me now, I can cancel his order, and I’ll put your rigatoni vodka in to go with extra breadsticks.”
“You treat me too good, Mateo.” I laugh.
“You and your friends have always been good to me, and let’s be honest,” he whispers, “you don’t want to have dinner with a guy wearing a sweater over his shoulders.”
Damn it. I really don’t. I have to be up early to get the bakery started. I'm always the first one in, even before Mara.
“Can you hang for like, fifteen more minutes? I can get Pops to put a rush on it.”
It feels wrong to abandon Marcus, but I don’t know if I can handle him the whole night. “Maybe I’m not being fair.” The look of disbelief Mateo gives me makes me stop. “Okay, fine. You win. Give me fifteen and then I’ll meet you at the side. Give your Pops a hug for me.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Don’t worry, Mila. I got you.” Turning, he heads back toward the kitchen to hopefully cancel Marcus’ order. I just hope it doesn’t cause his dad, Tomas, any grief.
As I continue past Mateo, I contemplate all the ways I can get back at Mara.
Maybe I’ll swap her regular coffee for decaf or sign her up for a dating service.
The idea of Mara getting emails and messages from random men wanting a date brings a smile to my face.
Maybe a taste of her own medicine is what she needs.
It’s not as fun when someone meddles in your love life.
I’m relieved to find the bathroom is empty when I step inside. The quiet space gives me a moment to breathe. Pulling my phone out, I scowl at the screen as I pull up Mara’s contact.
Me: You are dead to me.
Mars Bar: I can’t imagine why...
Me: I can think of at least three reasons, but the worst one is, he’s rude to Mateo.
Mars Bar: The other ones must not be so bad then.
Me: 1. Sweater shawl. 2. Made me change seats. 3. Ordered shellfish and a salad for me.
Mars Bar: ... I could be wrong...
Me: There is no could.
Mars Bar: And Mateo?
Me: He’s putting in my to-go order on the sly because Marcus told him to ‘run along with his order.’
Mars Bar: ... I’ll send you extra money for a tip, and I’ll call you in ten to escape.
Me: Damn right.
Feeling better about the turn of events, I scroll through some posts on the social media page for our store and engage with our customers. If they’re going to take the time to give us a shout out, you better believe I’m going to respond.
Realizing enough time has passed, I fix a few flyaway curls and take in my overall appearance. Seriously, is this the best there is out there? Is it too much to ask for someone to want me, for me? To not be a complete jerk, or someone who talks down to people?
Heading back out to our table, I pass Mateo with a grin and head nod. Reclaiming my seat, Marcus smiles brightly at me.
“That kid, Mikey, brought out some breadsticks, finally. I’ve been starving waiting, but don’t worry, I saved you one.” He points to a broken piece in the cloth-lined basket like he’s a gallant hero of some kind.
“That was so nice of Mateo,” I emphasize his name. “So, where were we?”
“Well, I was going to tell you about this client I had. The guy was the worst. He wanted to extend his credit at the bank, something about a piece of equipment being faulty and needing to replace it.” He waves his hand around nonchalantly. “But he missed a payment, so I instantly denied him.”
“Did you ask why he was late?” I’m really trying to be nice here.
“Something about having to close his business for a few days for repairs, cost them money, blah blah blah. Time is money, ya know?”
I swear, if Mara doesn’t call me in the next thirty seconds, I’m hiding her favorite mug.
As if she hears my threat telepathically, my phone starts ringing. “Excuse me,” I apologize. “I have to take this.”
He seems annoyed but waves me off.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Oh, ya know, just saving you from your date.” Mara snickers.
“That’s awful. Do you need help?” I ignore her snickering. I may hide her mug anyway.
“I’m just doing my sisterly duty here. But do you think Mateo can toss in some focaccia for me? I love the way Tomas makes it.”
“I’m not sure about that.” Yeah, like I’m giving her anything after this. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Fine. But consider us even.”
“I don’t know about all that,” I lament. “I’ll see you soon.”
Quickly ending the call with Mara, I give Marcus what I hope looks like an apologetic expression.
“I’m so sorry. It was Mara, and there’s an emergency with a vendor she needs help with.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? We haven’t even gotten our food yet.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt.” Mateo is standing next to our table, looking sheepish. “We were having some computer issues, and your order was deleted by accident. If you’re willing to wait a half hour, we can get it in for you.”
“There’s no need, I guess. Inconvenient as it may be, my beautiful date has to rush out, so don’t worry about it, kid. You may want to fix that for the future,” Marcus tells him haughtily before turning back to me. “Let me walk you out.”
“No, it’s fine. My car is right out front,” I tell him, pulling my coat on. “I appreciate the offer, though.”
“We’ll have to try for another date sometime,” Marcus offers, standing as well. He leans in for what I’m assuming is a kiss, but I turn my face at the last moment, letting his lips land on my cheek. Deep breaths, Mila. You’re almost home free.
“Sure,” I offer with a tight smile that probably looks more like a grimace.
Quickly gathering my bag, I head toward the exit. As soon as I make it outside, I inhale the crisp night air. Wow, what a jerk Marcus is. He always seemed so friendly at the bakery.
That’s it, I’m not dating anymore. I need to figure out how to get Mara back for this one.
Walking around to the side of the building, Matteo is waiting at their pickup entrance. Bless him. I quickly pull out a few bills and hand them to him, leaning in for a quick hug.
“Thank you for being a good sport tonight, Mateo. I’m so, so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mila. That man in there, he is no good for you.” He smiles at me, his eyes serious.
“I feel bad you had to cancel his order.”
“Oh, I didn’t even put it in.”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “You’re a good egg, Mateo. Don’t ever change. Thanks for your help tonight.”
“Anytime, Mila. You deserve a guy who knows better than to order for you, let alone order something you’re allergic to.”
“I think you might be right, Mateo.” I offer him a sad smile and head toward the parking lot. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize the lot is almost empty. It’d be a bit hard explaining a take-out bag if I walked past him, but oh well.
Climbing into my car, I put my food on the passenger seat and head home. I barely make it two minutes up the road when my phone rings again. Connecting Mara to the Bluetooth, I wait for her to speak.
“It was that bad?”
“You would have reached across the table and choked him with his own sweater, Mara.”
“You don’t know that.” She scoffs.
“Oh? So, you would have been fine waiting for over thirty minutes, just to have a man ask you to switch seats because they like a certain side of the table and then treat Mateo like he’s a servant... after he ordered food you’re allergic to, and said ‘It’s okay, babe. I got you’?”
I’m met with silence and then Mara finally responds. “That’s the difference between you and me, Mila. I would have left after five minutes. You’re too nice to people.”
Rolling my eyes, I ignore the way her words feel like a dig. “Whatever, Mara.” I disconnect the call. How’s that for being nice?
Pulling into the alley behind our shop, I use the backdoor access and head up to my apartment. I’m relieved this night is over. As I unpack the rigatoni and breadsticks, I almost weep in happiness when I see Mateo included a container with cannoli in it as well. God, I love that kid.
Kicking off my shoes, I curl up on the sofa with my carbs and cannoli. Switching the TV on, I let it fill the silence of my apartment, and as I look around the space and eat my dinner, I realize there’s nothing wrong with my life. I don’t need a man to feel complete. This is enough. I am enough.