Page 6 of A Sudden Romance

He’d been in love with her for almost the whole twelve years he’d been working for her family. And yes, she was gorgeous, but even more attractive than that, Iris was kind, considerate, and cheerful. A talented designer, architect, and partner in the biggest firm in Massachusetts—one of the biggest in the country—she’d more than proved her intelligence, confidence, and capabilities. Her ever-present creativity was manifested in his two-bedroom bungalow and the three-story mansion he could see from his window.

What had he accomplished?

Yes, he had a good life and a decent house, a perk of being the family chef and property manager. At thirty-two, he should be confident to venture out into the unknown, but it wasn’t as easy as whipping up a new recipe.

He had a million dollars to his name—money he’d earned without much sweat from Iris’s generous family, but deep down, he was still the boy from the streets from all those years ago. He didn’t need a sign to know one wrong step in spending could send him back into poverty and homelessness.

Upon finding out about his dream, her parents and oldest brother had offered to fund his restaurant, an offer he’d declined. Staying at The Peak was the safest alternative. If he left, he might never see Iris Stone again.

Too bad seeing her and confessing his feelings for her were two separate things. If he got the opportunity to be in her presence once more, could he—finally—speak to her, rather than hold his breath?

This was one of those things he could claim insanity. He and Iris were from two different backgrounds, and she was far out of his reach.

Yet the thought of not having her in his life made him tremble with physical illness, even now.

Dragging his focus from the computer, he glanced at the window where light flooded into the room. Snow fell on the mountainside, and the peaceful sight should calm his nerves. But, yes, only one thing scared him more than homelessness—being rejected by Iris.

Beyond the statement wall, his living room adjoined the kitchen. He could hear knives connecting to cutting boards and talking from the cooking show playing in the living room.

Planning the family reunion with Iris gave him the perfect opportunity to express his feelings. But he’d been in way over his head when he offered to help. Worse now, because then he’d gone and offered to pick her up from the airport. What was he thinking? He’d been kicking himself ever since.

They had Steve, the family driver, but Sabastian had let his fantasy of being near Iris get the best of him.

With the day now upon him, the thought of just the two of them in the car had him break into a sweat. Sure, he drove her while she was with her siblings or friends, but never just her.

What was up with him? He’d asked girls out before, kissed a couple even, but they weren’t Iris Stone, who made him tremble with nerves and desire.

Like whenever he thought of her, he felt motivated to peruse restaurants for lease. If he was going to pursue her, he’d better do something.

With all her siblings living in different states, he only cooked for her parents who rarely ate at home. Because of that, he’d taken on the property maintenance and management when they were looking to fill the position. He hired landscapers for detailed work, but he mowed the lawn in the summer and kept up with the basic projects. It wouldn’t be right to let them pay for jobs he could manage while they paid him plenty for cooking for two people—ahem, sporadically cooking for two people.

He slid the cursor to open a real estate company link he’d saved on his computer, but there weren’t any new listings since yesterday. He’d studied business management in culinary school, but being a business owner was a whole new recipe. The only time he’d been on his own was during his late teen years on the streets until he met Eric Stone.

Eric helped him fulfill his dream of becoming a chef.

After graduation, he worked as a pastry chef for three months and quit, feeling compelled to work for the man who’d pulled him off the streets. Eric not only paid him to work for his parents but also paid for Sabastian to advance his career in Pleasant View’s renowned culinary college and offered to sponsor his restaurant. Despite the Stones’ generosity and support, Sabastian remained caught between the fear of the unknown and not ever seeing Iris.

He’d be seeing her in a few hours. He’d better focus and get ready for the airport. Although he’d showered that morning, he’d shower again if he was going to be in Iris’s presence.

Pushing back the chair, he stood. The computer clock showed 1:07 p.m. Iris should land at four. Traffic was minimal on Mondays, but cars moved at a tortoise’s pace on snowy days.

He crossed to the living room. From below the mounted TV, he grabbed the remote on the floating media console and turned off the TV before making his way to the bedroom.

Accessing the bathroom right from his bedroom was a luxury he didn’t deserve but appreciated. He flossed his teeth and rinsed his mouth with mouthwash before brushing. It wasn’t because of Iris. Taking care of his teeth was one thing he went overboard on. He never wanted the gum disease and rotten teeth Dad had.

While he showered, ideas for the afternoon invigorated him. On the way to the airport, he’d stop and buy flowers. He grinned, remembering the last time Iris came home for Easter. Her face lit up as she took photos of the tulips in the garden. He had to get her tulips if he could find them in the floral shop. He always ordered flowers for the house, but did they sell tulips in the winter? Now, he couldn’t remember.

Being a snow day, she might be cold. Perhaps he’d buy her a vanilla almond steamer at the airport coffee shop. She liked his gold milk tea, but he didn’t want to scare her with his enthusiasm by bringing homemade tea to the airport.

As for meals, he already had the menu planned out in his head. Iris probably never noticed that he made all her favorite food when she was at The Peak. If she didn’t pay attention, it didn’t bother him any more than it troubled him that he got tongue-tied around her. The lemon curd tart was for dessert, and he’d made it last night after marinating the chicken.

All he needed to do was cook dinner when he returned from the airport. If only other areas of his life were as easy as cooking. Then he wouldn’t be panicking right now. But life had no recipe to follow, no step-by-step instructions with the promise of success if properly observed.

After changing into jeans, a white shirt, and an army-green cardigan, he walked back to the bathroom to take another look in the mirror. Patting the trimmed sides of his dark hair, he tilted his head side to side. His reflection showed he was presentable enough.

Now, on the drive to the airport, he needed to practice what he’d say so he didn’t stutter.

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