Page 129 of Summer with the Single Dad

“How many times has Ashli emailed you with menu changes?” she asked him with a note of sarcasm in her voice.

He huffed a humorless laugh and wiped his hands on his black chef’s jacket. “Only eight.”

“Only? I was kind of kidding.”

“First was to request that we make sure there are gluten-free and dairy-free options, as well as vegan. Totally understandable. Easy to accommodate. The next email was to request that we not send all the arancini out at once.”

“Okay.”

“We would never do that. Dom and I might not run a fucking catering business per se, but we’re also not morons. Emails number three and four came within two minutes of each other. They were to inform me that we are to not let Ashli’s brother Jaxksyn—and I’m going to spell it for you. J-A-X-K-S-Y-N.”

Justine’s eyes bugged out.

“Yeah,” Wyatt confirmed with a cringe. “Anyway, email numbers three and four were to emphasize that we can’t let Jaxksyn eat more than four of the steak sliders. Apparently, he’s the type who will stuff food into his pockets. We’re also supposed to not let him go back for second helpings of the prawns.”

“So that’s four emails.”

“Five, six, and seven involved the dietary restrictions of her Maid of Honor, who is keto, but also vegan. We’re supposed to make a special dish for her. So she sent me a few recipes that the Maid of Honor approved.”

Was the Maid of Honor the same nurse from the bathroom when Justine first learned of Ashli and Tad’s affair and baby?

“And the last email was this morning. It was to inform me that Ashli has developed an aversion to shellfish because of the pregnancy. So we need to remove all shellfish from the menu. That includes shrimp, clams, prawns, crab, and everything else.”

Justin’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope. Willy Reilly was pissed when I messaged him to cancel the crab order.”

“I bet.”

Wyatt’s phone pinged in his back pocket and he rolled his eyes. “Five bucks says it’s Princess Rotten Peach with another request.” Justine glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon. She still had a few hours before the bowels of hell unleashed upon the island. “And, speak of the fucking she-devil.” Justine’s hands were all fishy, so Wyatt just held the phone in front of her so she could read Ashli’s email herself.

Hey Wyatt,

It’s Ashli Busche, soon-to-be DuPonte. One more thing about the menu, Tad LOVES ribs. Is there any way we can add ribs to the menu? Thanks.

Toodles.

- Ashli.

“Toodles?” Justine said, pretending to gag.

“That’s how she signs off her emails. That, or ‘kisses.’” He shook his head. “We can’t add fucking ribs to the menu this late in the game. I don’t want to insult a pregnant woman, but the baby is literally sucking the woman’s brains clean from her skull.”

“Not sure she had much to begin with,” Justine murmured.

Wyatt snickered. “Doesn’t sound like it, no.” He scratched his thick head of hair. “She does realize that we had to place orders for the food from distributors and suppliers, right? This is an island. It takes time to get shit shipped. We don’t even have ribs on the pub menu, so it’s not like I can just grab a rack from the freezer.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Justine said with a shrug. “I don’t know the woman very well. Thank god. But based on what I do know, this all seems par for the course that is Ashli Busche. She is entitled.”

“Well, yeah. She slept with your fiancé. She felt entitled to another woman’s man.”

Snorting, Justine smiled at him. “That she did.”

“I’ve managed to basically accommodate everything else she’s requested. How do you think she’s going to take it when I tell her that’s a hard no on the ribs?”

“Like a pouty princess.”

He pouted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

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