“Fine, fine.” My dad clears his throat. “Listen, I was reading the Wall Street Journal this morning and stumbled upon a really interesting article—”
I snort and try to disguise it as a cough. My dad never had one bit of interest in the Wall Street Journal until I started dating Alex. Now he has a subscription and reads it over coffee every morning. Apparently, he was pleasantly surprised to discover the paper covers tech news as well as finance, so it’s given him a lot to talk about with Owen as well as Alex.
But just try to get him to watch an episode of Cupcake Wars. Just try.
My dad doesn’t seem to notice me snuffling on the other end of the phone, which is typical. “—and I wanted to ask you your thoughts on mortgage-backed securities…” He proceeds to launch into a description of an article that makes absolutely no sense to me, and probably doesn’t make sense to him, either.
It shouldn’t bother me that my dad is manufacturing reasons to bond with my boyfriend, but I can’t help it. When Alex and I broke up during my Very Bad Year, my parents were absolutely devastated… Not because their daughter was heartbroken, but because she’d blown their shot at a son-in-law with an MBA who they could be proud of.
While Alex is patiently talking my dad through something or other—don’t ask me what, I have no idea—I answer the door for our food delivery and dig through Alex’s carefully ordered cabinets to set the dining table. Then I slosh more wine in my glass and top off Alex’s whiskey. He’s going to need it if this conversation goes on much longer. Finally, Alex manages to escape my dad’s grip, and he slides into the chair across from me.
“Thanks for your patience with my parents.” I flash a crooked smile and pass him a cardboard food container.
“It’s fine.” He shrugs and scoops rice onto his plate. “I enjoy discussing finance with your dad.”
I’m pretty sure he’s lying because only someone who enjoys suffering would enjoy discussing finance with my dad. But it means a lot that he’d make the effort. As I gaze across the table at my boyfriend’s handsome face, I’m reminded again of how lucky I am to have this chance to hold our relationship together.
Alex recently took me to another event with his work friends, and for the most part, it went fine. Last time around, I remember that same dinner was awkward and tense, probably because everyone at the table had seen me blow up at Zach a few weeks earlier. But this time, I’d never blown up at Zach, and nobody had any idea that I’d wanted to. So, I spent most of the evening getting to know the other girlfriends and avoiding the side of the room where a couple of the most obnoxious guys had staked their claim. I talked to one woman about her career as a data analyst and another about being a nurse practitioner. Everyone was super interested to hear about my job as a pastry chef and what it’s like to work for a guy they’ve seen as a guest judge on Top Chef. As we said our goodbyes, I realized I’d actually had fun. And then on the cab ride home, Alex gave me a long kiss and told me how happy he was that I came.
He definitely didn’t say that the last time around.
So, I need to let go of the idea that this relationship is going to suddenly dissolve like cotton candy in a rainstorm. I’d overreacted during my Very Bad Year, and now I’ve learned how to handle things better. Which reminds me—“Hey,” I say to Alex. “I meant to ask you if you hired that woman for the financial consultant position. The really qualified one we talked about?”
“Uh, yeah.” Alex spoons green curry onto his plate. “I believe her paperwork is still making its way through HR.”
“Really?” I grin at him across the table. “You hired her?” See? This is the perfect example of how well my second chance year is going. I didn’t need to blow up at Zach. All along, I should have calmly talked to Alex. “When does she start?”
“A couple of weeks, maybe.” He looks up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “I’ll have to check with Zach.” His gaze slides to me. “How are things at your job?”
I chat for a bit, telling him about the new recipes I’ve been developing, and then I trail off, remembering all the other stuff.
“What is it?” he prompts, after a moment of silence.
“Well… something a little weird happened.”
“Yeah?” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Tell me.”
I don’t know why I haven’t told him about the party of VIPs and the guy who looked down my shirt yet. I guess I didn’t want to admit how they treated me. It’s humiliating, so I’ve been avoiding thinking about it at all. “I’ve never worked as a server, I had less than no clue what I was doing. So, it’s not like I was adding any real value other than…” Being a nice face and a perky pair of tits. I cringe. “You know. Being a woman they could look at.”
Alex narrows his eyes. “Did any of them touch you?”
“No… But I could feel their gazes. Especially the older guy, the high roller ordering all the expensive bottles.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Alex sets his fork on his napkin. “It sounds like you were uncomfortable.”
“Yes. So uncomfortable. But—” That powerless feeling rolls over me again. This is why I’ve avoided thinking about that night. “It’s not even about that smarmy old guy, really. I may never even see him again. The part that really bothers me is that Xavier threw me to the wolves.” And if he did it once, he could do it again.
Alex’s face softens. “Come on. Come here.” He takes my hand and tugs me over to the couch. When we’re settled in the cushions, he turns to look at me. “I imagine patrons at high-end restaurants have a lot of unreasonable demands.”
“Sure. Like gluten-free vegan cheesecake. Not…” I wave my hand across my chest. “You know.”
“Is there any chance Xavier didn’t know those clients would make you feel that way?” Alex cocks his head. “Maybe he needed more help in the dining room and thought you’d do a good job?”
I think back to my conversation with Xavier that night. Xavier didn’t want Doug to work the front of the house, but is that because Doug is even less experienced at serving than I am? Or because men are never told to look pretty and smile? “I don’t know.”
“Did you talk to him about it?”
“Well… no.” I can’t imagine having a conversation about this with Xavier. Not in any version of reality.
“Maybe it wasn’t about throwing you to the wolves.” Alex holds out his hand, palm up. “Maybe it’s about giving you more responsibility, more face time with clients. It could be a step toward that executive pastry chef position.”
“Maybe?” I’m so used to thinking the worst about Xavier that I’d just assumed he sent me out to the dining room to amuse the creepy old guy. But I want to believe what Alex is saying. Maybe Xavier was testing whether I’m up for the promotion, and he had no idea that the old guy would act inappropriately. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions instead of thinking things through. Just like I always do.