Chapter 26
Gabrielle's POV
People start flooding the gates like someone announced a free buffet. I’m already sweating, hair sticking to the back of my neck, but I keep moving. Busting tables, running plates, clearing empty glasses. Even though it’s my birthday, it doesn’t feel like it.
Happy birthday to me, I guess.
Macady’s is one of those restaurants that pretends it’s fancy, but it’s only fancy on the low end of rich.
It’s dimly lit, fake marble everywhere, sort of, and the menu has that “expensive” cursive font even though half the ingredients are straight from bulk suppliers.
But still… people love it, and I make a decent amount of money for it. Decent enough to keep me here, anyway.
So there's that.
But it stresses me the hell out. Ten-hour shifts, back-to-back, for three days straight. I’m tired down to my bones.
“Gabby, Table 4 wants water refills!” one of the girls calls out as she rushes past me.
“Okay, I’ll get it,” I answer, balancing three plates on one arm while handing another girl the order slips sticking out of my apron. “And tell the kitchen to hurry on the medium-rare salmon. They’re already complaining.”
“I already did!” she shouts back.
Another server pops her head out from behind the bar. “Gabby, what’s the order for Table 9 again?”
“Uhhh, two steaks, mashed potatoes, and that stupid side salad with no onions,” I call back while sliding the plates down in front of a couple who barely look up from their menus.
The noise is constant.
Silverware clattering, people talking too loud, chairs scraping the floor. The shift doesn’t end; it just blurs.
I’m clearing another table when Danny waves me over, breathless.
“Gabby! Can you get that couple that just got seated at Table 16? I have to take another.”
I nod. “Yeah, I got’em.”
I feel like I’m being stretched in every direction tonight, but I take the table anyway. My feet hurt, my head hurts, and my birthday feels like just another damn shift at Macady’s. Still, I grab my tablet, steady my breath, and walk over to Table 16.
I put on my customer smile and start my usual introductory script.
“Hi, welcome to Macady’s. I’m your server Gabby, I’ll be taking care of you today,” I say, the whole nine yards rolled right off my tongue. My thumb is already hovering over the tablet screen, ready to type.
Then I look up.
And everything in me freezes.
Lincoln is seated there.
Across from Sarah.
For a second, I honestly think my brain misfires, because I just… stare.
My eyes go between the two of them, then back again. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
He blinks like he’s shocked to see me, like I’m the one who’s out of place.
Like it’s not my job, like he didn’t know this is the city I live in now.
I keep my posture straight, tablet still in my hand, but inside my chest something tightens so suddenly I feel it in my dry throat.
Of all tables.
Of all nights.
Of course it’s this one.
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