Page 71 of Tuned To Break
We all turn as Yasmin and Ella stroll into the workshop, grinning like they’re up to something. Yasmin’s in a flowing sundress and sandals. Ella’s in leggings and a T-shirt that says I’ll get over it, I just need to be dramatic first’ with a unicorn on it that matches her unicorn slippers she’s wearing. They are completely out of place in our grimy workshop.
“What are you two doing here?” Stella asks, confused but pleased to see them.
“Girls’ lunch!” Ella announces with the kind of enthusiasm that only she can pull off. “Yasmin and I decided we neededsome quality time with our favourite operations manager. I know my husband is overworking you, and he wouldn’t dare argue with me.”
“I can’t just leave work for?—”
“Actually,” Yasmin interjects smoothly, “we already called Emily and Megan. They’re meeting us at the new bistro on Main Street. It’s all arranged.”
I have to admire the efficiency of their plan. They’ve thought of everything—even roped in the rest of Stella’s friends to be involved. It’s like watching a military operation disguised as a social event.
Stella looks between us, and I can see her suspicion growing. She’s too smart not to notice that this feels orchestrated, but she can’t quite figure out why we’d go to such elaborate lengths to get her out of the workshop.
“This feels like an ambush,” she says.
“It’s an intervention,” Ella chirps, like that’s less suspicious. “You’ve been working yourself to death. When’s the last time you did something just for fun? Also, what’s the point of being the boss if you can’t play hooky?”
“I have fun.”
“Work doesn’t count,” Yasmin says, smiling.
“Neither does sex with Jake,” Ella adds, making me choke on nothing as heat floods my face.
“Jesus, Ella,” I mutter. She grins, unrepentant.
“What? I’m just saying you need friend time too. Girl talk, gossip, complaining about men—the important stuff.”
Stella narrows her eyes at me; I can see the cogs whirring. She knows something’s off; she just can’t place it.
“You’re all acting very strange.”
“We’re acting like people who care about you,” I say—technically true, even if our motives are complicated. “Comeon, one afternoon off won’t kill you. The workshop will survive without you for a few hours.”
“The workshop will still be here when you get back,” Chase adds—probably a bit too eagerly. “I promise I’ll call if anything urgent comes up.”
“Plus,” Yasmin says, looping an arm through Stella’s with practised ease, “we already made reservations. It’d be rude to cancel.”
I can see her wavering. She’s a sucker for social obligations and the guilt of disappointing people. It’s one of her more endearing traits, even when it works against her.
“Fine,” she says at last, and I have to resist the urge to sag with relief. “But just lunch. I need to be back by four.”
“Deal,” Ella says quickly, already steering her towards the exit like she’s afraid Stella might change her mind. “We’ll have you back by four-thirty.”
“Four,” Stella says firmly.
“Four-fifteen,” Yasmin counters.
“Four-ten. Final offer.”
“Done.”
As they hustle her out, Stella’s need to manage everything flares. “Jake, if anything explodes while I’m gone?—”
“Nothing will explode,” I promise. The last thing we need is an actual emergency on top of this manufactured one.
“And Chase, remember to?—”
“I’ll handle everything,” Chase assures her, making shooing motions with his hands. “Go have fun. Relax. Forget about work for a bit.”
