Chapter Sixteen
It shouldn’t have surprised me. In fact, I was stupid not to have anticipated it. It was the logical next move. But, when I glanced up to find Justin as he sat at one of my tables in the restaurant, it still came as a complete shock. That momentary glimpse affecting me like a physical blow.
Over the last few days, he’d continually kept calling.
I hadn’t picked up. He’d left messages. I hadn’t listened to them.
He’d tried turning up at my house, I hadn’t been there.
If you weren’t going to give up, the workplace was the obvious next place to try.
Maybe, I’d assumed he wouldn’t stoop to that.
I cursed all the conversations that meant he knew my work schedule almost as well as I did.
If I had suspected, I could have swapped my shifts around.
But, it was too late now. He was there. And so was I.
I dragged my gaze away, not wanting him to see me looking over there. Then, I turned tail and ran. I arrived in the kitchen so fast, I almost knocked a full plate out of Kate’s hands. “I need a huge favor.”
She smiled. “Sure, Dean. What do you need?”
“I need you to take one of my tables.”
“Not a problem. Which one?”
Her easy acceptance shocked me. “Table fourteen. You don’t want to know why?”
“Not unless you want to tell me. I assume you’re avoiding someone. Which, if that’s the case, I better take thirteen as well. Because, avoiding someone whilst you’re standing right next to them at the next table isn’t really going to work.”
I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Would you? That would be great. I’ll owe you big-time, Kate.”
She frowned, turning to face me, the hand not balancing the plate planted firmly on her hip. “No, you don’t. How many times have you stuck your neck out for me? I already owe you, ten times over. So, don’t go saying ridiculous things like that.”
Suitably chastened, I could only shrug.
She winked. “I’m going to take this plate before it gets any colder. Then, I’m going to go straight over to table fourteen and take their order. Because, the sooner whoever it is has eaten, the sooner they can leave, and you can stop looking like a deer caught in the headlights.”
“Thanks, Kate. I really appreciate it.”
She smiled and then sashayed through the door with the plate.
For the next hour, I went through the motions: talking to customers, taking orders, and serving tables.
I made sure to stay as far away from Justin as it was possible to get.
The constant feeling of eyes burning into the back of my head never went away.
But, I refused to look over to see whether he really was staring or if it was simply my imagination.
When my phone beeped with a message, I half expected Justin’s number to flash up.
Maybe some sort of entreaty to come over and talk to him, but it was only Georgia.
She wanted me to come and meet her at the bar where she worked.
It wasn’t that unusual a request; she’d asked before.
Usually it was when something had spooked her on the way home the night before and she didn’t want to make the short walk to the tube station on her own.
I found a quiet corner in the back of the kitchen to message back, saying I’d see her there.
I’d just pressed send when I realized there was some sort of commotion happening at the front of the kitchen.
One of the new kitchen hands had planted himself squarely in front of a customer, barring him, or her, from stepping any further into the kitchen.
It happened occasionally. A few customers thought they could just stroll in and make their complaints personally to the chef.
It was with a sinking heart that I realized it wasn’t just any customer.
It was Justin. Of course, he wasn’t going to leave without at least trying to speak to me.
I’d been stupid to think he would. But then, stupid seemed to be my default position when it came to the man.
I was stupid not to have made any connection between the two men I was seeing.
And I was even stupider to have ever believed we had any sort of future.
Frozen in indecision over the best way to handle the situation, my gaze met his over the kitchen hand’s shoulder.
The latter was still trying to muscle him out of the kitchen.
Given Justin carried a hell of a lot more muscle than the kitchen hand did, or probably ever would, his attempts weren’t proving that successful.
“I just need to speak to Dean. Let me speak to Dean, and then I’ll go.”
The kitchen hand turned, a look on inquiry on his face. I vaguely recalled his name being Richard. He’d only started a few days ago. That was a baptism of fire for him. I immediately shook my head.
An imploring look appeared on Justin’s face. “Dean, please. Two minutes. That’s all I want.”
I was still shaking my head. “Sorry…I—“ Embarrassed my voice had cracked, and suddenly aware that all work seemed to have ceased in the usually hectic kitchen and multiple pairs of eyes were locked on the two of us, I made a concerted effort to sound more assertive. The last thing I needed was this to get back to the head chef. Thankfully, it was his night off. “Justin, I don’t want to talk to you now. I don’t want to talk to you later. I don’t want to talk to you at all.
I told you that and I haven’t changed my mind.
You shouldn’t have come here.” I risked a glance around the kitchen.
A few people were polite enough to immediately turn away and pretend great interest in whatever task they’d been doing previously.
The majority made no secret of unashamedly watching.
They were obviously enjoying the drama. “You shouldn’t have come to my workplace. It’s not fair.”
His stare burned into me, seeming to go on forever. Finally, he nodded curtly and returned through the door he’d entered. I sagged back against the wall, feeling completely spent.
I got to the bar sometime after one, meaning it had already been closed for over an hour.
On my way in, I nodded a greeting to a few familiar faces who were still milling around the place clearing up.
I went in search of Georgia. Expecting her to be ready to go home, I frowned at the sight of her tucked away in a booth.
She pushed a glass of something dark across the table toward me, motioning I should join her.
I remained standing. “What’s this? Let’s just go.”
She took a sip of her own drink, something horrendously bright pink-colored and decorated with numerous umbrellas and pieces of fruit. She squinted up at me. “No way, Dean. Sit down. Drink. We’re having a conversation first.”
“We can have a conversation at home. It’s late, Georgia. I’m tired.”
She took a longer swallow of her drink before wagging a slightly off-center finger at me.
I was beginning to wonder how many of them she’d already had while she’d been waiting for me.
“I know what you’re like. We’ll get home…
and then you’ll scurry off to bed. And then you’ll be at an audition tomorrow… then—“
“Okay. Okay. I take your point.” I slid into the seat opposite her, taking a quick sniff of the drink she’d offered to me. The aroma of whisky hit me straight away. “And just for the record, I don’t scurry anywhere. I’m not a small woodland creature.”
Georgia wrinkled her nose. “Semantics!”
I took a moment to stare around the bar.
Even some of the employees I’d passed on the way in had now gone home.
Apart from a guy I recognized as the bar manager and one other, we were the only ones left in there.
Swiveling my gaze back to Georgia, I found her staring at me expectantly.
I sighed, knowing exactly what she wanted to talk about. “He came to the restaurant tonight.”
She leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand. “Did you speak to him?”
Before answering, I took a swig of the drink, almost choking. “Jesus! How much whisky did you put in this?”
“A double…and then, maybe, a little bit more. I thought you might need it. Anyway, stop changing the subject.”
I took another drink—a much smaller sip that time.
“No. I didn’t talk to him. I can’t talk to him.
I can’t even look at him without feeling completely humiliated.
It just…this whole thing…makes me feel like the world’s biggest idiot.
” I checked Georgia’s face for any signs of recrimination, but her expression remained purposefully blank.
“I can’t get my head around it. Just thinking about the fact that my own boyfriend was paying me for sex makes me feel…
I don’t even know how it makes me feel, beyond deeply embarrassed.
I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to forget it ever happened.
He should want the same, surely? After all, I lied to him too.
He should have dumped me the moment I didn’t come clean about the escorting, right? ”
Georgia sat back, contemplating my words for a moment. “Probably. But, he didn’t. So, that should tell you something. And you shouldn’t feel like an idiot. There’s no way you could have known.”
I drained the drink, the strength of the alcohol no longer important.
I needed the numbing sensation it was starting to provide, more.
“I’ve been thinking about it.” That was an understatement.
In the last twenty-four hours, I hadn’t really thought about anything else.
“There were clues…things I should have picked up on.”
“Like what?”
“The cologne on the pillow…and the one Justin wore. It was the same.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I even asked Justin about it, to find out what it was. I can understand now why he acted so strangely when I asked him. He must have found it hilarious. I bet he’s been laughing at me all this time.”
“You don’t know that.” Georgia gestured at my now empty glass. “Want another?”