Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Sadie
I didn’t love digital to-do lists; there wasn’t enough satisfaction in crossing off each item accomplished. I would check the box, and the task would disappear as though it never existed. But it had existed, in a hard way, and it could have possibly taken me hours to complete. I wanted to see all that hard work; I didn’t want the reminder to just vanish. That was why I preferred writing my responsibilities on sticky notes. I had them in a rainbow of colors. And when I didn’t get enough satisfaction in drawing a line through the duty, I would sometimes scribble multiple lines, and when that didn’t give me enough relief, I’d use a Sharpie and black out every hint of it.
My trash was overflowing with crumpled-up sticky notes that barely had any color left—there was so much black marker covering them.
That was how my week was going.
And there was still an array of rainbow notes hanging on every surface of my office, and when one task was finalized, ten more popped up.
Filming.
Editing.
Posting.
Commenting.
The life of an influencer.
But in between, there had been a break, where I spent an evening at a new Italian restaurant that had opened only a few months ago in the Gaslamp Quarter of San Diego. It had no more than ten tables inside; the family had relocated from Lucca, Italy, so the menu focused on flavors from their region in Tuscany.
As I sat at my desk, finishing up my glowing review—a vast improvement from last week’s disastrous experience at a new French restaurant—my phone lit up with my boss’s name on the screen.
The article would be done in less than an hour and wasn’t due until tomorrow. I wasn’t late on my deadline, and I hadn’t been since the Horned incident.
There had to be another reason for his call.
I swiped my finger across the screen. “Hello?”
“Good morning.”
I checked the time on my monitor. “Good morning—although it’s not really morning, I suppose.”
“Technically, it’s afternoon, but it’s morning to you. I assume you’re still on your first cup of coffee?”
We’d worked together for so long now that he knew the way I operated.
“I’m about to start my second cup.” I laughed.
“I won’t keep you. There’re just a few things we need to discuss. The first—your review of Horned.”
I leaned back in my chair, rocking, even though the motion seemed to only make me nervous. “Okay …”
“Since it was posted, viewership of Seen is up by twelve percent with a steady and consistent rise every day.”
Not at all what I had expected to hear.
My head shook as I responded, “Wow.”
“So, I wanted to call and personally congratulate you, Sadie. Our social media accounts are flooded with comments about you, our readers are desperate for more of your voice, and the executives at Seen couldn’t be happier.”
My boss wasn’t one to give compliments. He told me the things I did wrong, never the things I did right, despite knowing I was a huge asset to the publication.
Therefore, the more he spoke, the more shocking this conversation was.
“You have no idea how thrilled I am to hear that,” I admitted.
“We feel the same, and you’re going to see some of our appreciation in your next paycheck. We’ve given you a raise.”
“I was not expecting that. Thank you.”
“The other reason I’m calling is that we’ve been given some opening dates for new restaurants in the area, and I wanted you to make note of them. One, in particular, we’re really keeping an eye on.”
I grabbed a pen and a green pad of sticky notes—the color that was the closest to me. “And that is?”
“Toro.”
“Oh, yes, I know all about it.” I tapped my pen. “The new concept Walker Weston branded. I believe Denver was his first location, Banff was his second, and now he’s testing the LA market.”
“That’s what I understand too.”
“I’m assuming you want me to go? ”
“With the amount of buzz it’s already getting, what I’d like to do is build up the momentum of your review the same way we did with Horned. Tease our audience. Get them salivating. And then hit them with your honest feedback.”
I jotted down a few notes. “Is there a definite date it’s opening? I’ve read mixed things online. Some say construction and permits are holding things up.”
“I received an email from The Weston Group announcing the official date and inviting our team for the soft opening, so I suspect those issues have been worked out. I don’t anticipate you’ll come to the opening—and understandably so—but I wanted to extend the invite.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m going to pass for obvious reasons.” I paused. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”
“That sums it up.”
I put my pen down. “Until next time?”
He chuckled. “Until next time.”
I hung up, and as I was placing my phone on the holder, a text came across the screen.
One that made me smile.
Lockhart
I waited as long as I could in hopes that I wouldn’t wake you, but, fuck, I miss you.
Instead of texting back, I decided to do something even better. I hit his name in my Contacts and brought the phone up to my ear.
“You’re giving me your voice,” Lockhart said as he answered.
“I thought that would be more personal than a stream of emojis.” I picked my pen back up and put the non-ink end in my mouth .
“How are you, gorgeous?”
I sighed as I glanced around my office, the neon sticky notes catching my attention, my chest tightening as I realized just how many there were. “I’m currently swallowed in work.”
“It’s been too long since I’ve tasted you.”
I exhaled again, this time deeper. “I hate it. Make it stop.”
He moaned out a deep breath. “Tonight, I’m with the guys. How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow I can do since I’m with Bryn tonight.”
“Are you going to let me take you out?”
I laughed. “ Maaaybe .”
“Whatever you decide, I’m good with.”
I didn’t know if I should take him to my favorite Thai restaurant or the seafood one I’d fallen in love with a few weeks ago. Or if we should stay in and bask in his incredible cooking and finally take a dip in that big, wonderful Jacuzzi tub that was out back of his house.
So many decisions.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
“You sure will.”
“There’s something so sexy about this restaurant,” Bryn said as she sat across from me, turning the stem of her wineglass between two of her fingers so the dark red cabernet splashed along the sides. “And the food? Sigh, it’s so good.”
We’d decided on a steak house for dinner. One that was high-end and loved by most.
“You’re not going to believe me when I say this, but I’ve only been to this location twice.”
Her brows rose. “What? You live, like, five minutes from here.”
“I know.” I pulled off a corner of the sourdough loaf that was still warm and had the right amount of crispness, and I swiped it across the butter that was whipped and dusted with cinnamon and brown sugar. “There’re just so many restaurants from Santa Barbara to San Diego that I need to cover, it’s rare for me to come back to a place unless I really love it, like that sushi restaurant we always end up at. I dream about that nigiri.”
“When food is your job, everything changes. You’re eating for mortgage money, baby.”
I slowly nodded with the biggest smile, my eyes closing as the sweetness of the sugar hit my tongue. “Truth.”
A food runner approached and set a plate between Bryn and me and said, “Tuna tartare over a bed of avocado, ginger, and tempura flakes with a wasabi aioli drizzled on top and a splash of ponzu. There are fried wonton crisps on the side for dipping. Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” I said to him.
“I’m drooling,” Bryn replied when he left our table. “Do you want a pic before I dig in?”
I laughed. “You know me too well.” I slipped out my phone and pulled up the Camera app, holding my cell over the plate, snapping several photos from different angles. “All set.”
She took one of the wontons and scooped it into the tuna like it was a dip. “Oh my God, yes.” She spoke behind her hand.
“So, it’s as good as it looks?”
She moaned, “Better.”
As I was putting my phone back, a text came across the screen.
Lockhart
I can’t stop thinking about you .
“Only one thing in this world can make you smile that big, and that’s Lockhart.”
I held up a finger, letting her know I needed a second, and started to type.
Me
Stop … you’re going to make me think I’ve found my future husband.
“I’m that obvious?”
She snorted. “Come on. It’s me. And it’s him. Obvious is an understatement.”
I put my phone back inside my purse and shivered as I brought the old-fashioned up to my mouth. “That man makes me tingle in all the places.” I took a drink, holding in the whiskey, letting it burn my tongue. “He doesn’t just say the right words, he does all the right things too. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me—I’ve never had that before.” The candle flickering on the side of our table wasn’t setting the mood; Lockhart was doing that inside my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.”
“You haven’t. I’d know.” She reached across the plate and put her hand on my wrist. “I need to meet this man. Like, immediately. Seeing him at the restaurant that night wasn’t enough. I didn’t even get a chance to talk to him.”
“It’s going to happen very soon.” I laughed. “Which is the same thing he said to me about his siblings.”
“ Ooh , you’re going to meet the family?”
When she released me, I grabbed a wonton and spooned some tuna on top. “He didn’t say anything about his parents, just his brothers and sister, but that’s still family.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “And he still hasn’t been to your place?”
I shook my head, my cheeks puffing out as I filled them with air. “He hasn’t asked or pushed it in any way. Maybe I’ll just ride this for as long as I can, and then when the timing feels right—I don’t know—I’ll lay my alter ego on him.”
“It’s going to be fine.”
I groaned out a long breath. “My least favorite word in the entire universe, Bryn. Fine is never fine.”
She lifted her wine. “Babe, I promise.”