Page 90 of The One I Hate
“We’re not. He’s hopeful.”
“He told the doctor that?”
“Those were his exact words.”
Mellie starts cracking up as my cheeks heat in secondhand embarrassment all over again. The questions started minor, like how much sleep should I be getting and what was on the banned list of foods. They morphed into him wondering if he needed to be measuring my stomach for progress and if we were to have sex, were any positions banned.
I didn’t have find a new doctor on my to do list today, but that’s obviously happening because I can never show my face there again.
“Okay, so he’s a little eager,” Mellie says. “But that’s better than the alternative.”
“What’s the alternative? Because I’d like that as an option.”
“That he not be here at all.”
Well, shit. Leave it to Little Miss Sunshine to bring down the mood.
“You’re right,” I say, throwing down my french fry. “He’s here. And very present. Sometimes too much, but you’re right. It’s better than him not being here at all. Especially in this insane week.”
“Exactly,” she says. “And hey, give yourself some grace. You found out you’re pregnant on the week of your dream coming true. It’s okay to be all over the place.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I just feel like everything is out of control. Like we aren’t ready. I’m not ready. This has to go perfectly, and I just feel like it’s going to be a disaster because I’ve been distracted.”
She shakes her head. “We’re ready. The staff is hired and coming in tomorrow for training, which they barely need since most of them worked for Mona. Menus were delivered yesterday. Painting is set to be done today. The first wave of food gets here tomorrow morning. All of the plates, glasses, mugs, and cutlery came in today. We are ready for the soft opening, my friend.”
“How did this all happen?” I ask myself, though I say it out loud. “I don’t feel like I’ve done any of that, yet somehow it’s done.”
“You did. But you had some help.” Mellie jumps off her stool and comes around to give me a side hug. “Get used to it, girl. You have a team here who wants to see you succeed. And we’re going to make sure this place is nothing but the best.”
Emotion runs through me as Mellie walks back toward the office. She’s right. I’ve had help, whether I wanted it, or thought I needed it. She’s driven in from Nashville each day to help oversee things while I was running around like a mad woman, doing things like opening bank and vendor accounts. Emmett came in with the health inspector to make sure everything was up to code and in proper order. Mona even reached out to the suppliers for me, including a mushroom guy she uses that she says is stoned most of the time but has good product.
Works for me.
And then there’s Simon. The father of my child has been in overdrive to make sure he’s taking things off my plate where hecan. Also known as what he can throw money at to fix for me. I objected at first—I hate taking charity in any form, but especially monetarily—before I quickly realized it was an act of futility. The man is more stubborn than I am, which is saying a lot.
It’s also how he shows he cares. I never understood gift giving as a love language, but I’m starting to. Because that’s Simon Banks to his core.
He’s also really sexy when he takes charge. A feeling I’m allowed to feel since we’re now…together? I don’t know exactly what we are. But I do know that what we are includes things like small kisses and touches. And me ogling him from across the room.
I look around the kitchen, making mental notes of the things I can do to get ready for the food delivery tomorrow, before going to check on the painters’ progress in the dining room. I’ve been so busy the last few days I don’t even know the last time I’ve stepped foot out here.
And when I walk out, I have no idea what I’m looking at.
Because this isn’t my restaurant.
No, it’s better.
Fresh white walls. Not a drop of yellow anywhere. Pops of fun art perfectly placed on the walls in a way I could have never thought to do.
Then there are the brand-new booths and tables. I wanted to reupholster them, but I ran out of time and knew it wasn’t the best way to spend my money. But these? They’re perfect. Shiny silver tables and chairs that are modern, but not snobby. Booths in the perfect shade of blue I always imagined.
It’s perfect.
If that didn’t send me over the emotional cliff, I turn to the breakfast bar. That’s when the waterworks hit. White and gray shiplap line the front of the counter, which you can see even with the brand-new stools neatly lining the row. New white exposedshelves are behind it, and the dishes I ordered are stacked in a decorative, yet functional, way.
“Oh my…”
“Aw, Bug! You ruined the surprise!”
