- 3.
My feet were rooted to the spot. One second.
Two seconds. My manager appeared, saving
the day. “So sorry about that, she’s new and
still learning. The fruit platter’s on the house.”
She winked at me. “Go get a new one, quick.” I
escaped. “Be more careful next time,” my
<
manager told me later. “Everyone starts
somewhere, but if you get a complaint, you
won’t get paid tonight.” “Thank you,” I breathed. “No problem. Be extra careful with that VIP room. They’re all important guests, especially the young, handsome one in the middle. He owns some fancy tech company, someone we can’t afford to offend.” “I’m kind of scared. Could you take the oranges in for me?” “Sure.” I let out a sigh of relief. If there was anyone in the world Ethan Jones had every right to be offended by, it was me. I was the “ex” he so readily dismissed.
