Page 11 of Coming Home for Love

Once I was finished, I called the waitress over.

“Did you need something, Mr. Gray?”

“Yes, do you mind getting the owner for me? I believe her name is LaShay.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.”

I took a sip of water as I watched the waitress walk away. She had a fat ass, but I wasn’t there for that. I smirked when the owner came around the corner and caught me looking at her waitress.

“Yes, Mr. Gray,” the Wynter look-alike said when she approached the table.

“Is the chef okay?”

“Yes. I apologize again for that. She had a family emergency.”

I hoped whatever it was wasn’t serious, but I had a feeling she was lying. It wasn’t my business because, technically, Wynter didn’t have to bring the food out. In some restaurants, I never saw the chef, so I wouldn’t have tripped if I didn’t this time, either, but I was glad I did.

“Oh, okay. I hope everything works out. I’ll settle the check now.”

“It’s already taken care of, sir. Was everything to your liking?”

“Yes.” I reached into my pocket to get my wallet. The meal was free, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to leave behind a hefty tip. “Thank you. Please, send the chef my regards.”

I tossed a few twenties on the table and stood.

“Will do, sir.”

It was still funny to me how people my age called me sir. I understood being professional, but I preferred to be called my name.

I nodded, then walked away. I thought about Wynter as I walked to my truck.

As I turned the key in the ignition, I thought about the day I had to leave school.

I applied to a culinary school in Paris, but I wasn’t sure if I would get in, and that was the reason why I didn’t tell Wynter. I wanted to tell her, but everything happened so fast, and I broke my phone in the middle of moving.

I’d gotten caught up in the new school and the new country, and the time flew by, and I never got around to reaching out. Before I knew it, a year had gone by, and I figured I’d count it as a loss. I could have made more of an effort to reach out, but I didn’t. I really liked her, though, but I wasn’t trying to have a long-distance relationship anyway. I missed her, and I thought about her often and wondered what she had been up to. Now, I had my answer.

After seeing her, though, I felt we needed to talk. I was genuinely interested in finding out how life had been treating her. She damn sure looked good. She’d gotten thicker in the hips and ass. I remembered the first time we had sex and each time after that.Damn.

I wondered if she was single. I only had a few weeks in town, but I would fuck with her if it were possible. Even though Shannon wasn’t my girl, I had enough respect for her not to fuck around, but Wynter was different. She and I had unfinished business.

My parents weren’t home when I got to their house, so I made myself comfortable in my childhood room and did my write-up for the restaurant.

I would wait a couple of days before I went back to see if Wynter was there. This time, I wouldn’t give her an opportunity to run from me. I sat back in my seat and rubbed my beard. This trip had just gotten a little more interesting.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” LaShay asked as she stormed into the kitchen.

I could tell she was pissed by the tone of her voice.

My hands were on the sink as I leaned forward to level out my breathing. I was close to hyperventilating, and I needed to get my shit together before I was out of a job.

What I did was highly unprofessional, and I wouldn’t be surprised if LaShay told me not to come back.

“Wynter.” LaShay moved closer. “Honey, are you okay?”

I took a couple of deep breaths and stood up straight. I had to tell her the truth and prayed she would understand and maybe have some sympathy for me.

I glanced around the kitchen, and everyone else was still working as if the world wasn’t going to crumble, but for them, it wasn’t.

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