12. Sebastian
Sitting alone at a table at Sicily’s is nerve-wracking.
It’s a good place, quiet, with only maybe twenty tables. It’s my sister’s favorite restaurant, so I know half the waiters. Two of them watch me with a mixture of bemusement and concern as I turn my water glass round and round.
At seven-fifteen, Bethany brings me a plate of bruschetta. “On the house.”
“Thanks.”
She hesitates. “She’ll come.”
How does she know it’s a she?
Maybe they think it’s my sister, even though we always come together.
Maybe it’s obvious I’m waiting for someone else.
I’m not even clear on what I want to happen.
I can’t take this intern opportunity away from Mila. But I don’t know her very well. Maybe she’s an over-sharer. Maybe she’ll tell her coworkers about us.
Probably not. She seemed very anxious that Ilsa was watching us. She’ll be discreet.
A thrill zips through me. Discreet enough that we can keep seeing each other?
Then she’s here. I jump up. “Mila!”
She slides into a chair. “Sebastian.”
At least she’s not calling me Mr. Young.
Although imagining her saying it wearing nothing but her employee badge gets me thinking about our night together.
I’m completely out of control here. Something about her is my kryptonite.
As I sit back down, Bethany returns with a second glass of water. “Ready for menus? Something else to drink?”
“Can you do dinner?” I ask Mila. I can’t take anything for granted.
She glances around. “Should we?”
Bethany’s eyebrows lift. Yeah. This sounds sordid.
“She’s in the middle of unpacking,” I tell Bethany. “She just moved to Boulder.”
“Well, welcome,” Bethany says. “I’ll bring some menus.”
Mila doesn’t argue and hangs her purse on her chair. She’s staying.
“You find it all right?” I ask.
“Not a problem.” She glances out the window at the neon yellow sign for Smiley’s bar. “I guess we were meeting about this time last night.”
I clink my water glass against hers. “Here’s to our twenty-four-hour anniversary.”
She smiles at that, and I sit back in my chair. This is going to be fine.
But then she surprises me. “Are you going to ask me to leave the intern program?”
I shoot forward against the edge of the table. “No! Of course not!”
Bethany appears again to set the menus down, so I wait until she’s gone to finish. “That’s what we’re here to figure out.”
Mila fiddles with the corner of the menu. “Okay.”
“There is a fraternization clause.”
She doesn’t meet my gaze. “I saw it. No more than one level separating us on the chain of command.”
“Yeah. You can date other interns. And you could date other full-time base-level employees. But not any supervisors.”
“And certainly not the general manager.” She flattens her hand on the menu, as if she’s trying to stop fidgeting.
I want to reach across the table and take her fingers in mine, but I know I can’t. We’re miles from that.
“What happened before today doesn’t count,” I say. “We couldn’t have known.”
“She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “We were too busy doing other things.”
“We were. Delightful things.” And then, there is the other question. About it being her first time. That one will have to wait.
She peers at me from behind her hand. “Was it? Delightful?”
I give in and reach across the table to graze the fingers resting by her glass. “Completely. I haven’t dated anyone in almost two years. And there you were. Funny. Beautiful. Smart.”
She squeezes my hand. “And now I’m your minion.”
The warmth of her hand fills me with hope that we can work this out. I hold her tight. “I think it will be okay. We can see each other away from the hotel. Honestly, you and I aren’t going to run into each other all that much. You’ll be in the kitchens, the service halls, the laundry.”
“Doing grunt work.”
“At first. I think you have ten weeks of basic rotations. Raya’s in charge of that, but I sat in on the meetings as she and Havannah put this together. After the rotations, you will all be given more responsibility in the areas you are excelling at.”
“What if I excel at folding towels?”
I grin at her. She’s so funny. “No intern will remain in the trenches. You have a degree in hospitality. You’ll move to more permanent roles. Human resources, possibly. Maybe the front desk team. Or assistant to the concierge. I expect someone will end up as a management team floater to handle pop-up problems, particularly in the off hours. You will each have some say in where you go.”
“I see. When we get into those roles, will I be closer to you in the chain of command?”
I let out a long gust of air. “No. To be in range, you have to be the assistant manager, like Raya, or the head of a department or the CFO.”
“Or the event manager?”
“Actually, yes. That’s in range.”
“So if I win this thing, we could date.”
“Absolutely.”
“But otherwise, I could get fired if we’re found out.”
She’s worried. I don’t blame her. “Raya has that power, but we could likely get it undone with Havannah stepping in.” I don’t add that this would probably cause a hostile work environment, particularly with Raya. And anyone who felt like Mila got preferential treatment.
Mila must go on a similar train of thought because she says, “If I win the big job, though, and our relationship became public, there would always be a suspicion around me being chosen, wouldn’t there?”
“Possibly.”
She lets go of my hand. “It was only a one-night thing. I think we can move on. Do you?”
Damn. I was hoping it wouldn’t go this way. “I like you a lot, Mila.”
She frowns.
I’m pressuring her. I can’t do that. Not under any circumstance. “But yes, we’re adults. We had a great night. We’ll remember it fondly and move on.”
I think of Maverick. If he makes a move on her, I’ll bust his ass.
Yeah, this is all a terrible idea. You should never work side by side with kryptonite.
Mila pushes the menu away. “I think that’s for the best. Thank you for giving me a chance to stay.”
“You don’t want dinner?” There I go again.
“I better not.” She gives me a wry grin. “I don’t want to get any more attached to you than I already have.”
Was she? My gut pangs.
I’m dying to ask my question before she goes. This might be our last completely private conversation. “Can you tell me why you chose me? For your…first?”
She slowly slides the strap of her bag from the chair to her shoulder, as if giving herself time to consider how to answer. “I didn’t think someone like me could attract someone like you. You were funny and friendly. I wanted to do it with someone like you. That’s all.”
Someone like me. Not necessarily me.
“But you couldn’t face it the next morning, so you hid behind a potted plant?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, basically. I was ready to start my new life.”
I stack the two menus to prove I won’t try to convince her to stay. “I won’t get in the way of that.”
She grips the strap of her purse. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.”
Then she’s out the door.
I sit there, feeling far more wrecked than I should for losing someone I barely knew twenty-four hours.
Bethany eventually returns, her concerned expression back. “Do you want anything to eat?”
I consider the empty chair. “Sure. I’ll call my sister over. Go ahead and put in for our usuals.”
“Absolutely.”
I pull out my phone to text Arya. She had no idea I was going to meet the woman from my walk of shame.
Me: I’m at Sicily’s. Already ordered your favorite.
Arya: Are you serious? On my way!!!!!!!!!
Her exuberant punctuation makes me smile.
I have to salvage this day somehow.