Page 44 of Set to Love
Ugh, I was really looking forward to something nice and cold. But I’m not surprised. Especially given my recent string of luck. “It’s fine. We’ll figure something else out.”
“I know there aren’t many places open this late,” Max says, “But I’m fairly certain I saw a Burger Chalet when I was in the Uber on the way over. Do you reckon that’s still open?”
“Burger Chalet?” Zoe interjects, crossing the floor with a look of pure horror on her face. “Absolutely not. You two are going to have your date right here.”
“And who’s going to serve them?” Randy asks.
Zoe’s eyes narrow. “We are.”
Randy opens his mouth to argue.
“Remember who covered for you yesterday?” she mutters under her breath.
The fight drains out of him, and he sighs. “I guess we are.”
“No, guys. I can’t let you do that,” I say, waving her off. They’ve been working just as long as me today.
“Yes, you can,” Zoe says, suddenly looking as refreshed as she did when she walked in this afternoon. She has a terrifying amount of bounce-back energy. Something she was always famous for on the tennis court. “We still have a fresh batch of Lina’s world-famous cannoli on standby, not to mention a sheet of Randy’s tiramisu.”
Max winks at me. “I’ll leave the final call up to Katie, but I personally have a hard time refusing anything that’s world-famous.”
I look longingly at the padded chairs by the corner booth. The thought of sitting down for even ten minutes feels like a luxury I can’t say no to. “Okay,” I breathe.
“Pick a table, any table,” Zoe says, gesturing to the empty dining room.
Max nods to a quiet four-top away from the front window, tucked into the back corner. “That one looks perfect.”
“I’ll grab the place settings,” Zoe says as Max and I slide into the booth. “Be right back.”
I rest my chin in my hand, my elbow propped on the table. The last of the adrenaline from the shift is officially gone. “How was the show?” I ask, trying to focus on the man sitting across from me instead of the way the room is starting to blur.
Max turns his attention to me. His expression softens as he takes in my state. He rests his forearms on the table, leaning in. “It went well. We almost had a catastrophic wardrobe malfunction with one of our leads thanks to a rogue mic wire, but other than that, it was business as usual.”
Max’s voice is so soothing. If he ever decides theatre isn’t for him, he could probably make a fortune narrating audiobooks. Especially with that accent.
“Does that happen often?” I ask, managing a small, sleepy smile.
“More than you’d think. Live theatre is basically just a series of near-disasters with heaps of hair spray and makeup.”
Zoe returns with the silverware and a plate of powdered cannolis. “Lina and Leon are still . . . occupied in the back,” she says with a knowing grin. “Is water okay for everyone? Or can I get you something else?”
“Water is perfect, thank you,” Max says.
“Coffee for me,” I start, but Zoe immediately narrows her eyes at me. I cough, correcting myself. “Actually, make that a peppermint tea, please.”
She nods, satisfied. “Coming right up.”
I fight off a massive yawn. When we’re alone again, I lean forward an inch. “Tell me more about these near disasters. I’m curious.”
Max helps himself to a cannoli, his eyes bright with a story. “Well, with this show alone, we started with a literal bang. On opening night . . .”
I force myself to sit up straight, even shoving a sugary bite of cannoli into my mouth to try and shock my system back to life. But as he speaks, his voice starts to drift, and I’m only catching every third word. My eyelids feel like they’re made of lead, and the flickering candlelight on the table is hypnotizing.
I can’t fight it any longer. Before I even realize it, I surrender to the one thing my body is desperately craving. My head dips as I hear the low rumble of Max’s laugh. Then nothing.
When I wake the next morning, instead of my half-packed bedroom, I’m staring at a shadow box filled with seashells and a seahorse lamp I recognize all too well.
I’m on Zoe’s couch.
