Chapter 8 #2
My throat tightens as the words crawl up, thick and clumsy.
"Because I can’t, Sawyer," I say, and the confession scrapes something raw inside me. "I’m living in your house. Rent free. I don’t have a lot of savings and my safety net has been depleted.
I’m trying to save for my own place because the next time I move out of my van will be because I own a place.
I won’t depend on anyone having control over my life like that again.
" I press my hands flat against the table, trying to ground myself, to hold in the frustration and shame swirling in my chest. "If I quit now, I have nowhere to go but back to my van.
I'll have some money saved, but not enough to live on.
I've got no backup plan." My voice drops, brittle and small, but still steady.
"What else was I supposed to do? I have to work. I don't have a choice."
He exhales slowly, anger flashing behind his eyes, but it’s not aimed at me. “I hate he has that kind of power over you.”
“Yeah, well,” I whisper, voice barely audible. “He does.” The silence stretches between us, heavy and raw.
Finally, I say, “If you could do me a favor and take pictures of everything while you’re over there, that’d help a lot. The kitchens, the layout, even the local markets. Just... anything. I’ll start planning from here... if you have time, that is. I know you're busy.”
He nods, jaw clenched tight. And even though he doesn’t say it out loud, I know he’s already thinking of ways to fix it. Because that’s who Sawyer is.
“You do have a choice, Charli" he says suddenly, his voice calm but firm. “I've got an idea."
I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerous.”
He ignores the tease. “What if I hired you? Officially. As a consultant for Gallo Construction working on the Silver Willow rebuild.”
I blink, caught off guard. "Wait—what?" The words slip out before I can stop them, equal parts stunned and unsure. My pulse quickens as I watch him, trying to decide if he’s serious or just tossing out a thought. My stomach twists, a tangle of disbelief and cautious hope starting to unravel.
He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice steady. “You already know the layout, the kitchen flow, the space it needs to be, and the equipment it needs. You understand how a restaurant works. That perspective is exactly what we need for the redesign.”
I stare at him, my heart thudding. I just spent the last few hours being made to feel small and disposable.
I hug my arms tighter around myself, hesitant.
“You’d really do that for me?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Because it feels too generous, too good, too much like a favor.
Like pity. And I don’t know if I can take that from him.
“I’m not doing you a favor, if that's what you're thinking,” he says quickly. “You’d be a tremendous asset. And I’ll pay you at a consultant rate. It should be more than enough.”
My mouth opens. Closes. I’m not used to being valued like this. Not personally and definitely not professionally. “I don’t know what to say.”
"Say yes," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s a light in them now—something I haven’t seen before.
Not just hope, but belief. He leans forward slightly, like the answer is obvious, inevitable.
Not in a pushy way, but in that quiet, grounded confidence of someone who knows they’re not asking—they’re inviting.
I chew my bottom lip, hesitation knotting in my chest. The thought of quitting Carl, of walking out of that kitchen and never looking back, makes my soul sigh with relief.
But the idea of working directly for Sawyer?
Living with him and working for him? That’s.
.. complicated. I glance up at him, still processing everything he’s just said.
"What about Ian?" I ask slowly, trying to mask the nervous flutter in my chest. "He’s the one who hired me at the country club. Isn’t he going to be pissed that I’m bailing on Carl—and now working for you instead? "
"Ian won’t be a problem," Sawyer says, his tone confident but reassuring. "He trusts me. And once he knows this is the right move, he’ll be on board."
“I’d be nervous,” I admit.
He nods like he gets it. “Yeah. Me too.”
I laugh, surprised. “Are you ever nervous? I don't believe that for a second.”
He gives a small, sheepish shrug, his voice softer now, almost tentative. "You okay with working together? I know it might be... a lot. Word is, I'm not exactly the easiest guy to work for."
A smile tugs at my lips, unexpected and a little shaky. The tightness in my chest begins to loosen. "If I can survive Carl’s kitchen from hell, I think I can manage working for you." I meet his gaze, letting the moment settle between us. "Alright, Sawyer. You’ve got yourself a consultant."
He grins back, and just like that, everything changes.
Maybe not the way I thought it would.
Maybe better.
After Sawyer heads to bed and I’m curled on my bed with a blanket and the last of my tea, I finally pull out my phone and call the one person I know will understand exactly how messed up today has been. My best friend, Kendall.
Kendall answers on the second ring. “If this isn’t you telling me we’re going out tonight and drinking until the sun comes up, I’m hanging up.”
“No, Kenny. Not tonight. I just got off shift and I’m exhausted.” I tell her as I finish my tea.
“Boo. That sucks.” She laughs. “So, what’s happening, Hot Stuff?”
“Well, Ian and Mia asked me to go to the Bahamas to get an idea of what needs to be done to cater their wedding…” I start, but she interrupts.
“Whoo hoo! Vacation in the Bahamas!” She yells through the phone, and I have to pull it away from my ear for a second.
I let out a sigh that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “I wasn't going to go.”
Dead silence.
“Excuse me?” she says. “That sounded like ‘I wasn't going to go’, but my ears must be broken.”
“Nope. You heard right. Carl’s being a jackass. Told me I have to work doubles all weekend. Said it after I told him about the wedding catering gig—like, immediately after. It was almost impressive how fast he switched into sabotage mode.”
“Oh, hell no.” Kendall’s voice sharpens into full mama bear mode. “That petty troll is still pulling this crap?”
“Yep. He’s mad Ian asked me to cater and not him. Said he’s worked for Ian for years and never got asked to do anything like this. And now he’s making me pay for it.”
“God, Charli. Why didn’t you just quit?”
“Because I need the job, Kenny. I can’t keep couch surfing in a guest room of my boss’s house pretending it’s totally fine. I don’t want to seem ungrateful or, I don’t know—dramatic.”
“You’re not dramatic. And Carl? He’s trash. He’s bitter, insecure trash with a clipboard.”
I laugh quietly, but it’s hollow. “Yeah, well. I couldn’t afford to walk. I was ready to just stay behind and try to piece together the menu from any pictures Sawyer took.”
“Oh no. Don’t tell me he went along with that.”
I sit up straighter, warmth blooming in my chest. “Actually... he didn’t. He asked me why I didn't just quit, too. Then he offered me a consulting position with Gallo Construction. On the Silver Willow rebuild.”
Pause.
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Full-on official job. High pay. Actual title. No more Carl. Just—respect. For once.”
“Holy shit, Charli.” Kendall’s voice cracks into a laugh. “You realize this is huge, right? Like, this isn’t some band-aid fix. This is an actual future.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, the word catching in my throat. “I know and I get to set up the Silver Willow the way I want it to be. He's basically given me a blank check to make it the best restaurant ever.”
“So, you took the job, right? Tell me you took the job, Charli.”
“I took the job.”
“Thank God. If you’d said no, I was going to show up and knock you over the head myself.
You deserve this, Charli. And not just because you’re talented as hell—you’ve earned a life that doesn’t revolve around scraping by.
Sawyer offering that job plus the catering gig?
That’s not charity. That’s someone recognizing what you bring to the table. ”
I run my fingers along the edge of the blanket. “That’s the weirdest part. I think he actually sees me. Like really sees me. And it’s kind of terrifying all at the same time.”
“Oh honey,” she says, voice suddenly soft. “That’s what real life feels like. And it should scare you a little. But don’t you dare run from it, okay?”
I smile, a small one, but real. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”
“Good. Now, get some sleep. You're going to the Bahamas, you've got a wedding to plan, and a restaurant to build.”