I’m distracted to the point that I can barely function. I drop a tray carrying a bottle of Pinot Grigio and four glasses. The shatter brings the noise in the restaurant to a temporary standstill as everyone stares. I mix up a Chardonnay and a Sauv blanc I have chilling at the wait station and end up serving two tables the wrong wines. It’s not the end of the world, but when the bottle of Chardonnay you’re serving costs upward of two hundred dollars, your customers aren’t going to be very happy.
I totally bungle not one but two tickets. I get well-deserved side-eye from Chef Katie when I pick up a hot plate without a towel and burn my hand.
I’m a mess, and it’s embarrassing. Also embarrassing? The way I catch staff looking at me every so often. It’s obvious they know something’s up. Makes me wonder how much they know. Are they looking because I’m fucking up? Or are they looking because I fucked my co-director?
Brunch service passes, then lunch. Dinner’s around the corner, but Samuel is still nowhere to be found.
At quarter till five he walks in. He’s wearing a suit, as usual, but this one is alarmingly subdued for him. It’s black, no pinstripes, no pocket square. His simple white button-down is open at the neck.
His eyes find mine across the restaurant, and I’m hit by a tidal wave of emotion.
He is so fucking handsome. And he looks so distraught. His eyes are red, and his scruff is scruffier than usual, like he hasn’t shaved in a day or two. The naked hurt in his gaze has me putting a hand on my chest to keep my heart inside its proper cavity.
He immediately comes to me.
“Hi,” he says.
I smell his skin and want to cry. “Hey.”
“My office? Just for a minute.”
“Sure.”
I trail him upstairs. A few pairs of eyes follow us. My face burns.
Samuel closes the door behind me and moves to stand at his desk. I stay put by the door. Not wanting to stay but not wanting to go, either.
“I’ve resigned,” he says.
I startle, my heart falling. “But you can’t!”
“I did. Effective immediately. You’re my replacement.”
Dizzy, my hand moves to my stomach. I try to breathe through the shock roiling my gut. “I can’t replace you if I’ve resigned too.”
“You said one of us has to go. It’s not gonna be you. I have no idea what the fuck is going on with Hank, and quite frankly, I don’t care. So that leaves me.” His eyes soften. “We need you, Emma. The farm’s gotta move forward, and you’re the only one who’s up to the task. That much has become clear.”
I’m blinking back tears, wondering what in the world is happening. Wondering when the hell I’m going to stop crying. I was so good at managing my emotions before I met Samuel. I had control over the people in my life and how they made me feel.
But ever since he came into my life, my feelings are a runaway train. It’s terrifying.
“But the staff,” I say. “Our reputation—”
“If I’m gone, they’ll forget. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. Y’all can work together to push this program to heights even Beau hasn’t dreamed of. Em, this job—it was meant for you. You love it. It lights you up. It gives you what you want, so take it. I’m begging you.”
I close my eyes and just breathe. Because that’s all I can manage at the moment.
“But what will you do?” I say.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. No, that’s a lie, I won’t be fine. Not until I know you’re okay.” He curls his hand into a fist and sets it, knuckles down, on the desk. “Right now, I’m not going to ask you to take me back. That’s not what this conversation is about. But I meant it when I said I’m going to fight for you. Being in my bed alone without you—I couldn’t sleep. I can’t eat.”
Opening my eyes, I draw a trembling breath. “Sounds familiar. But how are you going to put your family back together if I’m here?”
“Let me figure that out. It may take some time, but my family and I have been through tough shit before. We made it out alive, and we can do it again.”
“Have you spoken to Hank since—”
“I haven’t.” His expression falls. “I’m not ready yet. You said you need time, and maybe I need that too. Time to let my relationship with my brother heal.”
I shake my head. I’m watching the damage to Samuel’s family happen in real time. I’ve already caused too much hurt. The sooner I leave, the sooner Samuel and Hank can reconcile, and the sooner they can all move on.
“I’m sorry. I can’t accept your offer.”
Then I turn and go before Samuel can convince me to stay.