Page 22 of The Second Chance Year

“Well… something a little weird happened.”

“Yeah?” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Tell me.”

I don’t know why I haven’t told him about the party of VIPs and the guy who looked down my shirt yet. I guess I didn’t want to admit how they treated me. It’s humiliating, so I’ve been avoiding thinking about it at all. “I’ve never worked as a server, I had less than no clue what I was doing. So, it’s not like I was adding any real value other than…”Being a nice face and a perky pair of tits.I cringe. “You know. Being a woman they could look at.”

Alex narrows his eyes. “Did any of them touch you?”

“No… But I couldfeeltheir gazes. Especially the older guy, the high roller ordering all the expensive bottles.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Alex sets his fork on his napkin. “It sounds like you were uncomfortable.”

“Yes.Souncomfortable. But—” That powerless feeling rolls over me again.Thisis why I’ve avoided thinking about that night. “It’s not even about that smarmy old guy, really. I may never even see him again. The part that really bothers me is that Xavier threw me to the wolves.” And if he did it once, he could do it again.

Alex’s face softens. “Come on. Come here.” He takes my hand and tugs me over to the couch. When we’re settled in the cushions, he turns to look at me. “I imagine patrons at high-end restaurants have a lot of unreasonable demands.”

“Sure. Like gluten-free vegan cheesecake. Not…” I wave my hand across my chest. “You know.”

“Is there any chance Xavier didn’t know those clients would make you feel that way?” Alex cocks his head. “Maybe he needed more help in the dining room and thought you’d do a good job?”

I think back to my conversation with Xavier that night. Xavier didn’t want Doug to work the front of the house, but is that because Doug is even less experienced at serving than I am? Or because men are never told to look pretty andsmile? “I don’t know.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“Well… no.” I can’t imagine having a conversation about this with Xavier. Not in any version of reality.

“Maybe it wasn’t about throwing you to the wolves.” Alex holds out his hand, palm up. “Maybe it’s about giving you more responsibility, more face time with clients. It could be a step toward that executive pastry chef position.”

“Maybe?” I’m so used to thinking the worst about Xavier that I’d just assumed he sent me out to the dining room to amuse the creepy old guy. But I want to believe what Alex is saying. Maybe Xavier was testing whether I’m up for the promotion, and he had no idea that the old guy would act inappropriately. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions instead of thinking things through. Just like I always do.

But the whole point of this second chance year is to change that. Look at how well it worked out for me when I talked to Alex instead of confronting Zach. So, maybe I should applythat same principle to Xavier. Maybe I shouldn’t always be so quick to blow up as soon as something offends me.

Alex cups my cheek with his palm. “You deserve that job.”

“Thanks. Idodeserve that job.” And for the first time, I’m buoyed by the hope I might actually get it.

“So.” His lips curve into a crooked smile. “This seems like a good time to give you a present.”

I gaze across the cushions, eyes wide. “What’s the occasion?” It’s not my birthday until June.

“Do I need an occasion?” He stands up. “Wait here. I also have something important to ask you.” And then Alex gives me a wink and disappears into his bedroom.

For a fleeting moment, my imagination goes wild. Is it possible Alex is about topropose? I rub my sweaty hands on my jeans. A proposal definitely didn’t happen last time around. It’s been three years, and we’ve had a few “someday” conversations, but nothing more specific than that. If you’d told me when I was on Jacob’s couch with Blanche, Sophia, Dorothy, and Rose that someday, I’d be sitting in Alex’s apartment on the brink of a proposal, I would have felt like I’d won a James Beard Award and the title of Star Baker all rolled into one.

But now, well… I’m excited. But it’s more of a muted excitement. A winning-the-pie-baking-contest-at-the-county-fair kind of excitement. It’s not that I don’t want Alex to propose. But I’m still adjusting to the whole second chance year thing.

Maybe I need a little break from excitement.

Alex returns from the bedroom, not with the little blue box I’ve been imagining, but with a bunch of shopping bags. Relieffills me like crème pâtissière fills an éclair. But I don’t have time to analyze my reaction because he’s setting the bags on the table in front of me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I snooped in your closet last time I was over to see what sizes to buy.”

My gaze skims over the labels.Dolce & Gabbana. Chanel. Prada.

My mouth drops open. “Whatisall this?” Peeking inside a Dolce & Gabbana bag, I find a neatly folded garment made of silk and lace. My first thought islingerie, but reaching in, I pull out a classic little black dress with a lace appliqué around the neckline. It’s gorgeous, and from the way the fabric slides against my skin, obviously incredibly expensive.

Alex hands me another bag, and inside, I find a pair of black Louboutin pumps with the signature red soles. “These are… amazing.” I meet his eyes, searching for an explanation. “And, I mean, I do love shoes. But Alex—you know I’m a chef. I’m not sure I’ll have a lot of occasions to wear something like this.”

“Of course I know you’re a chef,” he says with a smile and an amused roll of his eyes. “And I know you’d never buy anything like this for yourself. But there will be a lot more events for my job in the coming months. And wives”—he clears his throat—“and girlfriends are often invited along. I wanted you to have some special things to wear.”

My gaze sweeps across the shopping bags full of clothes, shoes, and I’m pretty sure I see the straps of a handbag or two peeking out. And realization dawns. Alex may not be planning to ask me to marry him today, but he’s clearly setting things in motion, starting with these clothes befitting a Wall Street wife. I know I should be ecstatic that we’re moving in this direction,but all this high-end fashion probably costs as much as I make in three months at the restaurant. And I’m not sure any of it really suits me.

---