Hello, Sunshine

I nodded. “That’s all right.”

“But you’re late,” Sammy said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

Sammy played with her ribbon, eyes down. And I regretted my previous tone immediately—I regretted everything I’d done that made her feel badly that she’d wanted somebody to be there for her.

I bent down so we were eye to eye. “No,” I said. “I’m happy you did.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” I took a deep breath in, almost in disbelief at what I was about to do. “And I can’t believe

I was going to let an errand get in the way of cake. That was really crazy talk.”

She smiled. “Really?”

She looked up at me like she was trying to figure out if I was truly happy I’d come. Apparently, she decided it didn’t matter.

We started walking toward the cake reception, and Sammy took my hand. Intertwining our fingers. Little fingers circling big ones. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I looked down at our hands, trying not to make a big deal, holding on to hers a little tighter.

Maybe I had been lying earlier when I said I was happy to be there. But it felt like the truth now.

29

After I left Sammy at the Maidstone, I barely made it to work on time. I ran to my station and put on my glasses when I heard a voice behind me.

“Of all the gin joints.”

I turned to see Ethan, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, holding a cooler. His hair was freshly washed, his scruff gone. He looked nice, for him at least, though the smell of fish, maybe from the cooler, still seeped out of his edges.

He smiled. “What are you doing?”

“Setting up my station.”

He laughed, literally out loud. “Z did not give you a job cooking here,” he said.

“No, I’m more in a quality control role.”

He tilted his head, and considered. “So you’re the new Taylor?”

“You know Taylor?”

“I know trash overhaul is a long way from quality control,” he said. “That’s what I know.”

I looked at him, my face turning red. “It’s part of a larger plan.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Those glasses mean business.”

“And I tried to save his job.”

“There’s no saving anyone from Chef Z,” he said. “But it was nice of you to try.”

I thought of my day with Sammy and I started to say that it was possible I was turning over a new leaf, but it occurred to me that turning over a new leaf probably involved saying it less and doing it more.

“What?” he said.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but the smell of you truly makes me sick.”