Page 4 of Grateful Hearts

His voice softened, but his frustration bled through. “We’ll talk. Just don’t make me do this without you.”

Hanging up, Mario stared at the phone, the weight of his message lingering in the silence. If she didn’t show, tonight would be a disaster. And he had nobody else to blame but himself.

???

Chantel sank into the armchair by the hotel room window, staring blankly at the planes taxiing on the runway. The low hum of airport activity outside was the only sound breaking the oppressive silence of her room. She’d opted for the airport hotel for two reasons: one, because she knew Mario had a key to her apartment and would likely show up there, and two, her flight left super early in the morning. It was better this way.

Her chest still ached with the weight of heartbreak. It was a throbbing reminder of just how stupid she’d been. She thought she knew Mario and all of his quirks, his dreams, and his faults. But clearly, she didn’t know him at all. He had betrayed her in the most intimate, devastating way possible, and now she was left trying to piece herself back together.

Her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with his name—again.

Chantel stared at it, letting the call go to voicemail like all the others. Mario was undoubtedly in full-blown panic mode now. The restaurant was set to open in an hour, and for the first time since it launched, she wasn’t there.

Well, he better get used to it.

Chantel hugged her knees to her chest. She felt a pang of guilt thinking about Brian, Ivan, and the rest of the staff. They didn’t deserve this chaos. They were her family, in a way, and she hated leaving them in the lurch. But Mario had forced her hand.

If he could do this, it made her wonder what else he was capable of. How many other lies had he told? The thought made her stomach churn.

Her phone chimed, and she hesitated before swiping to listen to Mario’s latest voicemail.

“Chantel, it’s me.” His voice was tight and controlled, but she could hear the strain beneath the surface. “Look, I know you’re upset. You’ve got every right to be. But you can’t just—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I mean, the restaurant needs you. We’ve got an hour until opening, and I need to know if you’re coming in. Please call me back.”

She smirked despite herself. There it was—the little flash of anger he’d tried so hard to suppress. Mario hated losing control, and the fact that she had him scrambling was satisfying in a way she hadn’t expected. But then again, he’d done this to himself.

Still, her thoughts drifted to Brian and Ivan. They were probably freaking out, running around the kitchen in a blind panic, trying to figure out what to do.

With a sigh, Chantel picked up her phone and typed out a quick message to Brian.

Chantel:Check the top shelf of the coat closet in the break room. I keep some backup recipes there for emergencies. They’re nothing fancy, but they’ll do.

She stared at the screen for a moment before hitting send. It wasn’t her usual standard, and it certainly wasn’t her heart and soul on a plate, but it would keep the restaurant afloat for a bit.

She’d give it a few days, but eventually, she’d send a formal note to Mario letting him know she wasn’t coming back.

Her phone buzzed.

Brian:Are you okay? The boss is acting super weird, and you not showing up for work is unheard of.

Chantel stared at the phone, debating how to answer his question. Had Mario told him what happened? She shook her head. No, there was no way that Mario would tell anyone about his infidelity. She wasn’t planning on saying anything, either, at least not at the moment.

Chantel:I’m fine.

She hated lying to Brian, but she didn’t want to talk or text about what happened, especially when she was still trying to grasp the situation.

Chantel made sure her alarm was set for the following day before she set the phone down. After the day she had, she felt utterly exhausted. She stood up and walked over to her bag. When she opened it to grab her pajamas, she realized she forgot to pack them.Dammit!After rummaging through bags, she found a T-shirt and put it on. She pulled the blackout curtains closed, sending the room into darkness. She then slid into the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. The mattress was firm, the pillows too fluffy, but it didn’t matter. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

Mario might be scrambling to save his precious restaurant tonight, but tomorrow, Chantel would be miles away, free from his betrayal and the life she thought they were building together.

Chapter Three

Chantel practically leaped out of her seat the moment the plane came to a complete stop at the gate in Baltimore. Her body was already moving before the fastened seatbelt sign even dimmed. She couldn’t afford to waste a second if she wanted to make her connecting flight to Knoxville.

Even though the flight from Boston to Baltimore was short, they were delayed by an hour leaving Boston.

With her backpack securely on her back, she weaved through the slow-moving passengers in the aisle and grabbed her carry-on roller bag before rushing toward the exit. She muttered a hurried “excuse me” as she squeezed past people. She felt like a hypocrite, considering she couldn’t stand people who did what she just did. She promised herself that she would make up for her rudeness later.

Once out of the jetway, she checked the time on her phone.Thirty minutes.She had to sprint across the airport to make it, and of course, her connecting flight was entirely in another terminal. With a deep breath, she gripped the handle of her suitcase and took off, her sneakers pounding against the airport floor as she raced toward the signs for Terminal C.

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