Page 61 of The Promise Of You

Mr. King,

Your ego is on par with Samuel’s, and this town could use a cleanse. I look forward to seeing both my problems obliterate each other.

Sincerely,

Chloe Sullivan

Hmm. No answer. Fantastic! I’ll email Cassandra in the morning. Or the next day. I still need to tell Samuel.

Ohmygod, how am I going to tell Samuel?

Maybe I could delegate Corine instead of Samuel?

Nope. I can’t do that to her.

Or could I?

I poke my head in the kitchen. Samuel might have gone to urgent care. I don’t want to know. “Corine?” I ask softly, in case the bear is still there.

“Yes, m’a—Chloe?”

“Come here a sec.” I close my office door behind her. She stands like a good little soldier, hands clasped behind her back, feet hip distance apart. “How would you like to work with Justin on a project?”

“Justin? As in, the owner of…?”

My thumb indicates the wall behind me that separates the restaurant from the pub. “That Justin.” I explain to her what Cassandra wants. A collaboration.

“Why me?” she asks.

“I know, I know, it’s a lot to ask. I didn’t want to ask that of you, at first. It’s… I can’t have Samuel do it, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“And I volunteered—to work on the dish… with Shane. But… there’s been a change, and Justin stepped in, and I… I just can’t.”

“Oh—but that’d be great!” She beams.

No! No. It’s the opposite of great. “Why don’t you want to do it? It’s an opportunity for you to create something.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You don’t like him? He’s mean?” I knew it. He’s mean. I need to get him out of my system. A major reboot. Boston was an illusion.

Red spreads from her forehead to her chest. “Oh gosh no. Justin is… he’s…” She bites her lip.

Is she crushing on him? She’s totally crushing. That’s good, right? “He’s what?”

Corine clears her throat. “It’s just that, Shane used to be our chef, and then he left to work for Justin, and so… I’m just concerned about rumors and such.”

I remember Aunt Dawn saying something to that effect. “Justin poached Shane from us?”

She tilts her head and moves her mouth around, in a ‘it’s more complicated than that’ expression.

“Alright, whatever. I don’t care what people think. You’re not going to leave, are you?” I ask.

“Can I be honest?”

Shit. “Sure, of course.” She’s going to tell me she’s leaving. I wouldn’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to work for effing Samuel.

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