Page 12 of Worth the Wait

“I wouldn’t dare, Chef,” I said.

I walked into the break room to grab my things and head out, clutching the bag that held some fresh pesto pasta in my fist.

My mother’s home constantly lacked in the actual food department. I’d learned pretty quickly that my cooking, regardless of what I made, went to waste. Neither my mom nor my sister ate properly. They were too worried about their figures to indulge in anything that wasn’t liquid-based. So, I tended to eat at work, or sometimes, I brought meals home with me, like tonight.

Stepping into the setting sun, I squinted before shielding my eyes with my hand. I could walk, but it was cold, so I opted for the train instead. The ride took longer than usual because of an outage somewhere on some line that I knew nothing about.

You’d think that I’d have the city memorized by now, but I didn’t. It was confusing. Too many colors and numbers. I was thankful for the app on my phone, even though I barely understood that thing either.

Maybe I was directionally challenged. Or maybe my brain deemed the information not important enough to store. Whatever it was, when the train reached my stop, I hopped off and walked up the concrete stairs and onto the bustling sidewalk.

There were always so many people around, and a part of me wished I could love it the way I’d thought I was going to before I got here. I honestly used to believe I was an adventurous person at heart. Thinking about that now made me laugh. The truth was, I was more of a homebody who craved routine and simplicity.

I didn’t need some of the things that other people did to feel alive and fulfilled. I’d left the things I needed back in Sugar Mountain, but I refused to dwell on that fact tonight. No, tonight, I was going out with my sister and experiencing the world that she lived in.

Even if I hated every second of it, I’d hide my emotions because Sarina was so excited, and honestly, it would be fun to see her in her element. I truly had no idea what that looked like. Of course, I’d seen her social media posts and videos, but I was pretty sure nothing compared to being there in person.

When I walked through the front door of my mother’s condo, I was relieved she wasn’t anywhere to be found. Flipping on a few lights, I set my food down on the kitchen counter and focused on plating it. Even at home, I liked my meals to be presentable and pretty.

No sooner had I built a beautiful pasta dish, with fresh Parmesan and basil on top, than the door swung open and my mother and sister both appeared.

“Yay! I wasn’t sure when you’d be home,” Sarina said with a smile before she came over and sniffed my food. “Smells amazing.”

“Want some?” I offered, knowing she would never partake in the amount of carbs and fat currently on my plate.

“No, thank you. I already ate,” she said, but I knew that she hadn’t.

“Do you want to try some, Mother?” I asked, assuming her answer would be the same as my sister’s.

She waved me off. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. I don’t know how you eat like that and still manage to look the way you do.”

I pursed my lips together and forewent even giving her a response. There was no point, so I took a giant fork-filled bite instead and practically moaned when the flavors hit my tongue.

“Good?” Sarina asked.

“So good.” I grinned.

“We should start getting ready in a couple of hours, okay? The car will pick us up at eight.”

Eight seemed so early, especially by Manhattan standards.

As if reading my mind, Sarina said, “I know it’s early, but this is also a fundraiser, so it starts at a more ‘normal’ time.” She used air quotes around the wordnormal. “A lot of paparazzi and press will be there.”

“Okay,” I breathed out, not expecting that last tidbit of information.

“I picked up some outfits for you.” Sarina gave me a lopsided grin, and I felt the shock zip through me.

“Oh. Just let me know what I owe you,” I said through my surprise.

She waved me off. “They were all comped. Perk of the job. I’ll take back whichever ones you don’t choose.”

“Dang. You do get some nice perks.” I smiled, letting her know that I appreciated her thoughtfulness.

“You will let Sarina do your hair and makeup, yes?” My mother appeared in front of me as she poured herself a massive glass of wine.

“Of course,” I answered because it wasn’t worth arguing over.

And besides, my sister had a knack for that kind of thing, and I most certainly did not. Plus, I didn’t want to embarrass myself or Sarina. Her peers were one thing, but the freaking press was another.

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