Chapter 1
MAYA
“Maya? Maya Gomez?”
I’m mid chew staring at the one person I never thought I would see again. My parents, Jill and Anthony, eager expressions make the once delicious, buttery dinner roll taste bitter.
I have to swallow hard, along with gulping most of my water to get it down my esophagus before I choke to death.
It’s been two years since I’ve been on a date—one date with this man who ruined it all by pulling out a gift card to pay for it. Somehow and some twisted fated way, he’s here standing before me.
Gift Card Dude smiles like he’s won the lottery. My smile is forced and painful, my insides start to shrivel up.
God forgive me.
He’s waiting, for what? I don’t know. I blink several times at him like a deer in headlights.
What the hell do I say to him?
I don’t even remember the poor bastard's name!
Mom is ready to find out on my behalf. “Hun, who’s your friend?”
“Uhh…” I want to crawl under the table and never come out.
“Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m Shawn.” He extends a hand, shaking Mom’s then my dad’s.
And here I thought Noah helping me turn him down easy would keep him away. I need a stronger repellent spray.
“Yes, right, sorry,” I mumble. Get me the hell out of here.
“It’s crazy seeing you here of all places!” He’s overly cheerful, reminding me of how easy it was to like him. He is always so confident and upbeat, with shaggy blond hair and puppy dog brown eyes, he expels positivity. You can’t help but return the feeling.
No, Maya, do not feel bad.
Because god forbid I stick to my guns and try to let a man down right the first time.
“Do you come here often?” Dad asks.
“Whenever I have a gift card, I like to come here.”
Jesus fucking christ.
Cringing so hard internally, I might combust where my blood sprays everywhere like a shitty horror movie.
Shawn laughs, it’s loud and weird, almost like he’s choking. “My friends call me the king of gift cards, discount hustler if you will.” Finally registering his attire, he sports worn-out khakis and a green puffer jacket, his hands moving a mile a minute.
His icks are all starting to come back now.
This is supposed to be a nice, once a month dinner with my parents, Instead, it has turned into a skit on SNL.
Kill me now.
Dad catches a glimpse of my expression and sits up a little straighter. “Well, it was lovely to meet you Shane-.”
“Shawn,” he corrects politely, his exuberant smile never faltering.
‘Right, yes. If you don’t mind, we're going to get back to our dinner with our daughter.” My dad’s smile is easy to mistake as genuine because there’s a good chance he’s catching my vibes of how I really feel about gift card dude.
“Oh, of course! Enjoy! Maya, it was great seeing you again! Maybe we can catch up sometime?”
His request makes it hard to keep eye contact, my eyes wander over to my half eaten dinner roll, picking at it when I say, “Ah maybe, I travel a lot.”
“Totally understandable! And it was lovely to meet you all. Have a wonderful dinner!” His buoyant goodbye makes me sad, mainly because he has no idea how I struggled internally to hide away.
He’s a nice guy, he just has too many…attributes that don’t fit my vibe. It’s a very polite way to say he is weird, and I don’t have the heart to tell him to leave me alone. So, I had Noah do it for me, and clearly that didn’t fucking work!
He’s getting a lengthy text from me later tonight.
I have no problem defending my friends and family from asshats who inconvenience them or break their hearts. I’m the first one swinging and the last to get a word in. But when it comes to my failed dates and rejecting them, it’s a hit-and-run situation.
There’s no in between, I wasn’t wired that way.
“Sorry about that,” I apologize, resuming with stuffing my face with my now cold dinner roll.
“It’s not your fault. I mean, he seemed like a nice young man,” Mom says, taking a sip of her wine.
Dad, however, rolls his eyes. “Once I got a good look at Maya’s face, I knew she wanted him gone. Did he hurt you?” His voice drops, Papa Bear activated.
“No! No, oh god no. He’s just…someone I didn't mesh well with on our date.” I like a man who knows how to woo a woman with his cash flow.
“Wait…” Mom pauses, I catch each gear working overtime in her head. “Was that Gift Card Dude?” Totally forgot she knew the lore behind this man.
Curse myself for being so open to dear old mom.
“You named him gift card dude?” Dad’s chuckle begins, until he’s in hysterics, face red, tears streaming down his face, the entire table starts to shake from how hard he is laughing.
Mom tries to get him to relax, patting his back as he coughs through his laughter.
“Ugh, all right, changing the subject now, please!” Thankfully, our waiter returns with our entrees, filet and steamed broccoli with a garlic mash.
Dad catches his breath and manages not to choke to death on his own saliva. “Sorry, I just can’t help but laugh at the nicknames you give them.”
I stab aggressively at my filet, with a steak knife, and cut it into uneven pieces. “It was an accident.” One I will never make again.
Dad snorts, but Mom hits his shoulder playfully. “Anthony, enough. Our daughter is already traumatized as it is.”
He holds up his hands. “Hey, you gotta kiss a frog or two.”
Luckily, my lips were nowhere near him.
We continue our conversation before his unexpected interruption, chatting about my job as a social media manager for Owen Sanders and his incredible journey as a five-star Michelin chef in New York City.
I’ve only been at it for a few months, and it’s fun, not my ideal position, but it helps pay my bills.
And my shoe box apartment in the city.
Dad dabs at his mouth with a maroon napkin and clears his throat. “I love our once-a-month dinners and your mother, and I am so happy to share some exciting news with you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Exciting news, you say?” Pushing my plate aside, I link my fingers, elbows on the table, and rest my chin, waiting. “Do tell.”
“We think it’s time your father and I enter a more relaxed venture. One where it’s not so leader-based.” Mom clasps hands with Dad, both grinning.
Either they’re waiting for me to catch on or to ask a follow-up question. I choose the latter. “Oh, and what venture would that be?”
“Retirement,” they say in unison.
“What?” I rub my ears, making sure nothing is blocking them. “Come again?”
“Your father and I are not getting any younger, and we believe it’s time we hand down the resort…that’s if you still want it?” Mom says.
Yeah, I want it… But now? I’m only twenty-six, and it’s been two years since we saved it from going under because their shitty ex-accountant, Dennis, stole almost all the funds. I’m banking on my late thirties to hopefully receive it… I just got a new job to…
I can’t let my parents sell it either. That’s a hell fucking no from me.
They’re watching me, probably guessing correctly about my internal freak out. I need to tell them yes, I have too. Snowy Peak is my second home.
I’m…not one hundred percent ready, but for my parents to enjoy early retirement, then I’m going to have to be.
“Yes! Omg, of course! Are you sure?” I exclaim, reaching for their hands.
They squeeze mine back, tears in their eyes. “Oh, Honey, I'm so happy to keep it in the family. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure everything is transferred over and in good standing before we leave you to it.” Mom pats my cheek, then she’s so proud of me.
My face starts to get hot, and my anxiety makes my fingers tingle. “Um, I gotta use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”
I’m almost running like I’m getting chased by a serial killer to the ladies’ room, almost knocking into a waitress carrying a tray full of food and slipping inside.
Not bothering to check under the stalls, I lean over the sink, trying to breathe through my nose. “Holy shit.” I look in the mirror, my face is crimson, even more so against my pink blouse.
It’s only natural that I grab my phone, searching for Hannah in my contacts but remembering she’s on vacation with her fiancee Noah. I hit back and snort when Henry’s name is under hers. He’s Noah’s assistant and a pain in my ass.
Clicking on it, I’m half tempted to delete. We haven’t spoken in awhile and whenever we’re in the same place, the ski resort to be exact, we somehow miss each other.
I only have his number because he needed info on Hannah's return to the resort a couple years back.
My thumb hovers over the call button, like he would answer me. I never forgot his comment from two years ago either.
The woman’s bathroom door swings open, making me jump, as a mother helps her daughter choose the furthest stall. I’m trying to stop my heart from pounding so hard when I hear a sound coming through my phone’s speaker.
“Maya? Are you there?”
I stick my ear to my phone. “Who’s this?”
“You called me.”
Shit.
His voice is smooth, velvety… I hate it.
Henry.
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