A Christmas Reservation (The Royale Series)

by Devon Michaels

  The boy does so, breathing in deeply through his mouth because his nose is all plugged up. When he exhales, I pull firmly on his hand. Understandably, he squirms in discomfort. But I hear the soft pop of his joints falling back in place. Daniel stops crying altogether, which is definitely a good sign. I keep Daniel’s arm still, but turn to Kate.

  “Would you mind grabbing me an ice pack to help with the swelling?”

  “Sure,” she says quickly, turning to leave for the kitchen once more.

  “Thank you so much,” sighs Amy. The worried expression she’s been wearing is finally start to disappear. She rubs her son’s back, leaning in to place a kiss on the top of his head.

  “It’s nothing,” I dismiss.

  “Can you say thank you to Peter?” she asks Daniel. Daniel smiles through the remaining tears that streak down his cheeks.

  “Thanks Uncle Peter,” the boy manages.

  I take in a sharp breath, but remember to smile for the sake of the child. Kate returns, handing Amy a package of frozen pees she found in the freezer. Her face drains of color, eyes wide in semi-horror. I can’t bare to look at her this way. It’s so obvious she doesn’t feel the same way about me. I need to end things before I really am in way over my head. I need to save myself the heartache. I’m undeniably and profoundly in love with Kate.

  And I’m heartbroken because this isn’t what Kate wants.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kate

  I haven’t been able to reach Peter for a week. I text him, they go ignored. I call him, I get his voicemail. We had a great time at dinner –at least, I thought we did. He seemed really at ease with my family, and he got along well with my sisters. With regards to my father, the jury was probably still out. But when Peter helped Daniel, I could tell they were really blown away. So I don’t understand what happened. Had I done something to upset him?

  “Maybe he’s just really busy at work,” I mumble bitterly to myself. But I know deep down that can’t be the case. I find it highly unlikely that Peter can’t spare thirty seconds to text me a quick hello.

  I’m sitting in the office of the Royale, sorting through a stack of papers. I’m doing my best to schedule around my staff’s vacation needs, but I know I can’t make them all happy. Somebody is going to have to stick around to help out as we drawer closer and closer to Christmas. I don’t care how pissed off they’re going to be when they find out they’re scheduled.

  My phone dings. It’s a text message. My heart nearly leaps into my throat. Is it Peter? Is he finally responding to my messages? When I pick my phone up to check, I damn near drown in disappointment. It’s just an email. I let out a heavy sigh as I check the message:

  Dear Kate, we would like to cordially invite you to attend the New Chester Law School’s open house this Saturday! As a former dean’s list student, we would love to discuss educational and financial support opportunities with you. We sincerely hope to see you there!

  I roll my eyes. I get one of these emails every year. I really need to unsubscribe from their mailing list one of these days. But I can’t seem to let go of the hope that maybe –just maybe– I’ll be able to go back one day. That had always been the plan. When I first took of the Royale, it was supposed to be a temporary fix. But then life got busy and the Royale sucked up all of my free time and attention. It became a norm –a norm that I didn’t originally want to occur.

  I place my phone back on the table and return to my scheduling conundrum. If I don’t schedule Claire, then I have to schedule Laurence. But both my head chef and sous-chef have asked for the twenty-third off. I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. Why didn’t they sort this out before putting their requests in? Surely they know that I need at least one of them here to run the kitchen. I sure as hell wasn’t qualified enough to do it myself. I make a mental note to discuss the issue with them later.

  I sit there in silence with my head in my hands. I can hear the hustle and bustle of the kitchen through the shut office door. Laurence is expediting, as per usual, while Claire and the rest of the kitchen staff respond back in a chorus of voices. It’s not quite the middle of dinner rush, but things are starting to pick up. I should be out there helping where I can. I should be out on the floor checking up on tables, assisting the servers and the hosts when they’re swamped with seating arrangements and drink orders.

  But I can’t get my mind off Peter. I can’t stop thinking about our almost-kiss. I feel stupid. I feel like a little girl with an overwhelming rush. He almost kissed me and I had wanted it to happen so badly. I could tell by the look in the eye that he wanted it, too. So why? Why hadn’t he pressed his lips to mine? It wasn’t like it was our first kiss. There wasn’t any need for him to be shy. But I realize that maybe it was our first kiss –our first kiss that could have meant something.

  I grind my teeth together, hearing the chill-inducing squeak of enamel vibrate through my skull and down my spine. I can’t stop thinking about the way he smells. I can’t stop thinking about his handsome face and captivating eyes. I can’t stop thinking about how calm and comfortable and safe I feel whenever he’s around. I can’t stop thinking about how he makes me laugh, how he makes me forget about all my worries and stress. And now he’s not talking to me and I just want to put my first through a wall.

  Maybe bringing him to meet my family was too intense for him. It was definitely above and beyond what our casual relationship called for. But I had gone in with high hopes. Peter is so easy to get along with, so effortlessly charming and kind. He fit right in. When I saw him sitting at the dinner table, surrounded by my family, I thought for the briefest moment that it was nice –that it was normal. Because holy shit did he look like he belonged beside me, like he there had been years of familiarity between us instead of just a few weeks. With him sitting beside me, he felt right.

  I rub my temples with my forefingers, shutting my eyes tight against the throbbing migraine that was starting up. I miss him. I miss his voice, his warmth, his presence. I can’t remember doing anything to piss him off to warrant him ignoring me like this. I have half a mind to go marching down to the emergency room to confront him directly, but I shake my head. I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal out of this. I’m probably overreacting. And that’s when the thought occurs to me. I’m overreacting because I may like him more than I want to admit. I lean back in my chair and groan. This can’t be happening. I can’t be falling in love with Peter. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  And now I’ve scared him away. It’s so obvious that he wants nothing to do with me. I remember the look on his face when Daniel called him ‘Uncle Peter.’ He looked so distraught, so out of place and uncomfortable that I could have cried on his behalf. That’s probably what did it. He probably thought things were getting too crazy, a little too out of control, a little too serious. And I know that it’s all my fault, I’m the only one to blame. I was the one who insisted he come for dinner.

  “This is stupid,” I hiss under my breath.

  There’s a knock on the office door.

  “Come in,” I snap.

  Claire opens the door slightly and pokes her head around it. Her white apron is a mess of stains. It looks like she was helping out at the saucier’s station. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail –neat and out of the way.

  “Kate?” she asks, her voice soft and sweet.

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s a woman here who wants to speak with you.”

  “I’m a little busy.”

  “She’s really insistent. She says you two know each other.”

  I sigh, tilting my head back. I glare into the light just above my head, not even caring that the brightness burns a spot into my vision.

  “What’s her name?” I grumble.

  “She says her name is Rachel. Do you know her?”

  I sit up straight and frown.

  “Rachel?” I echo.

  “Yeah.”

  “Ah, shit, alright,” I
groan as I stand up. “Thanks, Claire.”

  “No problem.”

  “Oh, by the way,” I start after her. “You and Terrance both asked for the twenty-third off. I need one of you to stay to work the shift.”

  Claire shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. I see her ears turn bright red as she picks nervously under her finger nails.

  “Actually,” she says, voice bubbly and nervous, “we were hoping to get the night off. Together. We, er… We had plans.”

  It takes me a second to put two and two together.

  “Oh,” I breathe. “Uh, like, together-together?”

  “Yes,” she chuckles anxiously.

  “Cool,” I say as I nod. “Cool, cool. Yeah. I’ll figure it out then. You kids have fun.”

  “We’re older than you.”

  “I said what I said. Now, where’s Rachel?”

  “We gave her the table in the far back corner.”

  “Good call. She’s loud.”

  “Yeah. The servers told us they heard her coming from a mile away.”

  I snort. “Sounds like Rachel.”

  I leave through the kitchen doors and walk towards Rachel’s table. The restaurant is starting to fill up quickly, so it’s a good thing the servers gave her a table meant for two. I don’t want her taking up valuable space. When she sees me, she stands and throws her arms out to hug me. I hesitantly move into the embrace, patting her twice on the back as she pulls me in tightly. She kisses my cheek, the scent of her expensive makeup overbearing in my nose.

  “It’s so good to see you, Kate!” she exclaims. A few of the neighboring tables look over curiously at the commotion. I smile tensely.

  “What brings you back to my neck of the woods?” I ask her. She waves a hand at the empty seat beside me. We both take a seat.

  “We’ll I’m back in town for business,” she explains. “And I wanted to pay you a visit.”

  “As happy as that makes me,” I start, “I am a little busy at the moment. You could have called.”

  “Oh, I know, but I was in the area and wanted to drop by. Plus, I have some fantastic news.”

  I raise an eyebrow at this. “What would that be?”

  “Well,” she says as she flips her hair over her shoulder, “I was talking to my boss. They’re hoping to expand and set up a corporate office here.”

  “Okay?” I don’t know where this is going.

  “They’re hoping to hire on a new team of lawyers for this location. I mentioned to my boss that you were studying to become one, and–”

  I raise my hand to cut her off. “Studying,” I stress. “I’m not actually a lawyer.”

  “Yet,” she replies smugly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mentioned to that. She says it’s going to take a few years to set up the new office. In the meantime, the company is more than happy to pay for you to go to school. By the time you graduate, you’ll have a job waiting for you.”

  I stare at Rachel blankly. I don’t know what to say. It all sounds way to good to be true. Rachel pulls out a business card from her bright pink purse she has hanging from her chair.

  “Here,” she says as she hands it to me. “That’s her phone number. Give her a call. She’s more than happy to meet you.”

  “Is this legit?” I question.

  “Of course, it is!”

  “But why me?” I ask, incredulous. “And what about the Royale?”

  Rachel shrugs. “Look, you’re my friend. When she mentioned she needed a team of lawyers for this location, I thought of you, okay? I don’t know what you’d do with the Royale, but you would have time to make plans. I just thought it would be a good opportunity for you, that’s all.”

  I bite my lower lip in thought. “Thank you,” I mumble. “Really, thanks.”

  Rachel giggles. “That’s what friends are for.” She picks up the wine menu and browses through the options. “Now, why not treat me to lunch since I’m here?”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. I guess one comped me won’t kill business.”

  Rachel throws me a wink. “I thought so, too.”

  The thought of returning to law school exhilarates me, but intimidates me all the same. I can’t deny that this is a fantastic opportunity. It might be my ticket down a career track that I actually enjoy. But my mind floods with questions. What about the Royale? What about all that I’ve built up here? And what about Peter?

  Peter.

  I grind my teeth together, a sudden surge of disgust filling my chest. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, fine. I just need to suck it up and move on. And if Rachel wants to order the Royale’s finest bottle of champagne and share it with me, I figure a little alcohol will help me get over him that much more easily.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Peter

  I’m miserable. Absolutely fucking miserable. I’ve seen her texts. I’ve heard her voicemails. I have to fight against every fiber of my being to not respond. I’m not brave enough to tell her I want to end this –primarily because I don’t want it to end– but also because I don’t want to see the look on her face. She’ll probably be indifferent to it, and that indifference will surely kill me.

  “You look like shit,” David informs me.

  “I feel like shit,” I answer.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  I sigh. Yes, I want to talk about it. I’ve fallen in love with a woman that can’t possibly love me back. I can’t tell David because I know how cliché it sounds. I hook up with this gorgeous woman I met at a bar, we have amazing sex on more than one occasion, and now I’ve discovered I have feelings for her. It’s a story that I can’t wait to tell the grandkids –it’s probably one of the most classically romantic stories that I’ve ever heard. I shake my head, prompting David to fold his arms across his chest.

  “Dude,” he warns, “you and I both know that bottling up feelings is bad for your health.”

  I shrug. “What can I say? I’m feeling a little self-destructive.”

  David frowns at this and places a hand on my shoulder. “Okay, seriously, now I’m worried. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Kate,” I say reluctantly.

  “Ah, girl troubles. Now things make sense.”

  I look at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought someone died, man. Girl troubles are easy.”

  I scratch behind my ear. “It certainly doesn’t feel easy.”

  “So, what’s the problem exactly? Did you catch feelings for her?”

  “Maybe,” I mutter as I chew the inside of my cheek.

  “Ah, love. It’s more contagious than STDs.”

  I snort and roll my eyes. “I really don’t like comparing love to sexually transmitted disease.”

  “So you are love,” gasps David, beaming.

  “Shut up.”

  “Just tell her how you feel, man.”

  “There’s no point.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she doesn’t feel the same way.”

  David leans forward, snatching the chart that’s in my hands. “Did she actually tell you that?”

  “Well, no. But I–”

  David throws his hands up dramatically in the air. “Well, there’s your problem. How do you know how she feels if you don’t ask her?”

  “Well, I–”

  “You graduated top of our class. How are you this much of a dumbass?”

  “Fine. What if I talk to her and she turns me down?”

  “Then at least you have closure,” he answers firmly. “That’s the worst that could happen. She turns you down, you move on. Done. But wondering how things could have turned out without ever attempting to figure out why is only going to hurt more.”

  I straighten my back, standing a little taller. I know I’m in the wrong when David starts to make sense.

  “You sound like you’re talking from experience,” I note with a wry grin.

  David shakes his head, handing me back my chart. “Live an
d learn, bud. Live and learn.”

  The moment my break starts, I head to the staff lockers and pull out my cell. Her voicemails have been sitting there for a few days, on the verge of being automatically deleted. When I pick up the device and look at the screen, I notice that she hasn’t attempted to text or call me again. My stomach does a flip. Has she given up on me? I sincerely pray that she doesn’t hate me for cutting her out. Then again, I’d totally understand, but I’d be crushed if she never wanted to talk to me again.

  I try giving her phone a call. There’s no answer. I click my tongue as I glance at my wristwatch. She’s probably busy at work. I try calling her again, but there’s still no response. I tap my foot impatiently as I send her a text instead.

  [Peter] Hey, can we talk?

  [Peter] I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring.

  [Peter] Please answer, I have something to tell you.

  My heart is slamming hard against the front of my rib cage. I’m breathing hard, air suddenly too thin and warm for my liking. I nervously drag my tongue across the back of my teeth, hoping the friction will distract me from the oncoming wave of panic and doubt. She’s not going to answer. Why would she? She’s probably moved on already. She doesn’t need to put up with a man who doesn’t call her back. I’ve been a top-tier asshole, so I really can’t bring myself to blame her.

  I glance at my watch again. I can’t wait any longer. I snatch my coat out from my locker and throw it on. I leave the staff locker room and pass by David, who’s chatting with one of the nurses about a patient’s chart. He grins at me knowingly.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a cocky tone.

  “Out.”

  “Out where?”

  “I need to speak with Kate. Can you cover for me if I don’t get back before my break ends?”

  David places a hand on his hip and rolls his eyes. “Man, you’re a pain in the ass.”

  “But you’re the one who told me to–”

  “I’m just messing with you. Go get her.”

  I’m in traffic for what feels like eternity. I keep glancing at my phone, waiting for the alert to go off that I have a new message. But the alert never arrives. When I finally make it to the Royale, the parking lot is completely full. I figure that they must be in the middle of their dinner rush. I’m forced to park about a block away, trudging through the slushy snow that’s beginning to build up on the sidewalks.