Love On the Line: An Enemies to Lovers Standalone

by Adriana Peck

  I forget everything else: Carly, her offer, my restaurant’s future. All I can focus on is Rosa. I shoot up, forgetting the coffee and Carly as I sprint outside to catch up to her.

  I throw the door of the café open, and the bell hanging from the door frame jingles violently as my feet hit the pavement and I take off running to catch up to my former partner and Head Chef.

  “Rosa! ROSA!”

  She stops dead in her track and turns around to face me. She looks confused to see me, as if she’d completely shut any memory of me out of her mind. I can see her look of gentle optimism, a spirit I’d come to appreciate in times of struggle. She’s bouncing back from me already. Her manilla envelope has APPLICATIONS written on it. She’s looking for new jobs. I’m impressed with her inability to give up, and I find myself struggling to put thoughts into words.

  “Mason? What are you doing—?”

  Before she can finish, I hear someone approaching behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Carly, coming to see what the fuss is all about.

  I don’t know what to say to Rosa. She does all the talking. “So, I can see you’re happy,” Rosa says. “Good for you.”

  She starts to turn around again, but I stop her. “Wait!”

  Rosa turns around again, and I look back at Carly. I know that propositioning Rosa to re-join my staff is only going to ruin things with Carly. I have a Head Chef again. One I’ve worked with extensively in the past, one who I know I can rely on in the kitchen. If I ask Rosa to re-join my team, I just know she’ll say no. Then Carly’ll get upset, and I’ll be out a Head Chef again.

  I look at Rosa. “I’m sorry. For everything,” is all I can say to her.

  She scoffs, turns back around and walks off without a word. Carly and I retreat back into the café after a few more seconds of standing outside.

  We go back in and make arrangements for Carly to start work the next day. It’s all I can do at this point. It’s the only choice I have.

  Twenty-Seven

  As I run past every single personal best record on the treadmill, I find myself pushing harder and harder towards a goal that I can’t see. The run-in with Mason outside the café, the job hunt that’s endless, and the aching feeling in my heart caused by the whiplash of a man that can’t make up his mind really takes a toll on one’s mental health.

  And he’s seeing Carly again, I guess. Good for him. Really.

  All I can do is run, run, run on the treadmill, hoping that my troubles won’t be there still waiting for me when I get off. But I know they’ll be there. That’s how life is. The exercise just makes it easier to cope, clearing my head so I can face everything head-on. My headphones blast 90’s hip-hop into my ears, a guilty pleasure of mine that keeps me sane when my world is crashing down around me.

  I push harder, increasing the speed of the treadmill so my jog becomes a run. I turn up the incline and push harder as the Wu-Tang Clan tell me just how much they shouldn’t be effed with. With every step, I find myself stronger and stronger as I push myself farther than I’d ever gone. If I can push through this, I can push through anything. My run uphill burns my thighs and puts stress on my calves. But I keep going. I’m strong enough to handle this.

  Mason apologized to me. He’s not offering me a job, but he’s still trying to reconcile. It’d be a sweet enough gesture if he was alone, but he’s got Carly by his side now. I’m happy for the two of them. I’m glad they could keep things together.

  I keep running, running, running. The timer counts down my workout, I’m in the final five minutes. I skip songs, find an old rock ’n’ roll song that’ll push me through the final stretch.

  I just know Sebastian’s isn’t doing so hot without me. If the Head Chef leaves in the first month, things aren’t going to go so well for the replacement, I assume that’ll be Carly. That’s probably what her and Mason were talking about. The restaurant’s still finding its footing, and throwing out the person in charge of your kitchen is a recipe for disaster.

  I need to forget all of this. I need a break from life, from job hunting and from the exhaustion of heartbreak.

  Once I’m off the treadmill, I pull out my phone. No missed calls or texts to speak of. I scroll through my contacts aimlessly, until I hover over a familiar name.

  Dylan.

  I throw caution to the wind. I shoot him a text, throw my phone back in my pocket, and that’s that. Mason and Carly deserve each other. And I’ll get what I deserve, too.

  ◆◆◆

  I cook myself a light dinner of eggplant and cauliflower, sautéed in oil and then baked for maximum flavor effect covered with a melting cheese of choice. Just toss a little salt, pepper and oregano, and you’ve got a solid meal.

  There’s an old movie on TV, and I catch the ending. Of course, it’s the big romantic confession of an old black-and-white movie from the thirties that I’ve never seen or heard of before. But you can always tell the big confession scene. The man always looks up in eagerness, usually when he’s down on one knee. There’s sometimes a ring there, too. The woman’s all dolled up, her perfect white gloved hands stifling a gasp as she nods her head eagerly. They’re all the same.

  In my life, the big confessional scene doesn’t happen. Instead, the man who wronged me chases me out on the street, backed up by his ex who I assume is working to steal my old job. Funny how real life is always different from the stories.

  My phone buzzes. A new text from Dylan. I pull up our conversation. I’d texted him a simple “Hey” at the gym, and he’s sent me the same message as a response. Just “Hey.”

  “Want to meet up sometime if you’re still in town?” I feel desperate begging for scraps, but I need the emotional comfort. The security of having someone care about you, however momentarily, can alleviate just about any heartbreak

  But Dylan doesn’t respond at first. I wait fifteen minutes for a reply, and all I get is:

  “Out of town, but I’ll drop you a line next time I’m in Deporte ;)”

  Great. So I’m alone for real now.

  I look at the clock. Twelve fifty-nine in the morning. Mason should be off work by now.

  The clock strikes one. I tell myself I’ve got one shot at this as I dial his number and wait for the phone to ring.

  Mason picks up immediately.

  “Hello?” he sounds exhausted. I can tell he’s just finished locking up for the evening, after a busy night at the restaurant name. It’s probably a bad time right now, but the fact that he answered says I’ve still got a chance.

  “Mason?”

  “Rosa?” Mason’s exhausted, but I still hear a hint of surprise in his voice. “What’s going on?”

  I sigh. “I wanted to call you, tell you I’m sorry. Sorry for messing up the dishes opening night. Sorry for mixing up the order cards. That’s all. I was your Head Chef, and I let you down.”

  “No, Rosa, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Mason says. “I was wrong. I’m the one who should be sorry. Not you.”

  There’s a pause, an awkward silence hangs in the air as I think of what to say next.

  “So, you and Carly again, huh?”

  “It’s not what you think,” Mason says in such a way that tells me it’s exactly what I think. “She’s just my new Head Chef, that’s all.”

  “Oh,” I say, the hope draining from me with each passing second of the phone call. “Well, I wish you two the best. Call me if it doesn’t work out, I guess.”

  Mason sighs. There’s another moment of dead air between us as I hear Mason walking down the city street to hail a cab. At this hour, things can get quiet fast, whether it be a phone conversation or a walk at night. Sharing the silence alone with someone makes the quiet easier. He breaks the silence, speaking up.

  “Rosa, I wanted to ask you,” he pauses, and I hear a car approaching. Probably his taxi. “…would you want to come back to work? I still need help in the kitchen, and…”

  He trails off. My mind goes utterly blank. I’
m at a loss for words, but I know that this is the opportunity I’d been looking for to make things right.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, not eager to jump back into bed with someone who’d already found a replacement for me. “But, Carly’s the Head Chef, then? Then what’ll I do?”

  “I need someone to keep the staff in line still. Carly can’t do that very well, if I’m being honest. She’s just the one who can prep the most food in an hour, so I’ve got her at the head of the Chef’s table, so to speak. I’m sure you understand.”

  I still need a job. My bills are piling up, and my savings is running dry. I don’t see how I have much of a choice in the matter.

  “Fine,” I say. “I’ll come back to Sebastian’s. When?”

  “See you tomorrow, then?”

  “At the restaurant?”

  “Well, I’ll come see you a little earlier, if you’re up for it. I’ll just pick you up from your place,” Mason says. “We can go for breakfast in the morning. Just you and me.”

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ll send you my address, I’ll meet you outside. Text me when you’re coming over.”

  We say our goodbyes and hang up. I guess things are back on. I go to bed cautiously optimistic and hopeful for tomorrow to come.

  Sure, Carly’s got my job. But does she have Mason’s heart?

  Twenty-Eight

  As I walk over to Rosa’s apartment to meet her for breakfast, I feel a pit forming in my stomach. She thinks I’m back together with Carly, but that couldn't be further from the truth. And I don’t know how to tell Rosa what’s really going on.

  I can’t get Rosa out of my head, and that’s the truth. It’s not just the lack of her at Sebastian’s. Carly’s supposed to start today as my new Head Chef, and I dread going into work with each passing minute. I thought this feeling would pass once I own my own business, but I guess every day has its own new surprises.

  I’m getting pretty close to her place, so I send Rosa a heads up text as a courtesy.

  She’s outside by the time I round the corner to her place. She’s wearing the same red coat from the other day, one that catches my eye. I think she looks absolutely stunning.

  “Hey,” she says flatly. I can tell I’ve hurt her already, so I kick things into high gear as soon as I can.

  “Rosa, I’m sorry for everything. Really,” I start, but she cuts me off as she crosses her arms and looks at me with frustration.

  “You basically apologized last night,” she says. “It’s fine. I’m over it. Tell me about the new deal with Carly.”

  I point down the street. “Still want breakfast?”

  “Tell me first,” Rosa says. “Are you two getting back together or not?”

  “We aren’t,” I say. “Happy?”

  Rosa nods. “A little. Sure, let’s get breakfast.”

  ◆◆◆

  Rosa and I head to a hole in the wall breakfast pub that plays heavy metal as we walk through the plate-glass door. It’s a small place, alright, with chalkboard menus propped up against countertops as the tiny staff of three people scramble in and out of the half-kitchen that sits just past the register.

  Rosa takes her coat off and offers to find us a seat. I head up to the counter and order us two daily specials, eggs and toast with bacon on the side. Two cups of black coffee.

  I’m back at the table in an instant with the food, piping hot and fast out of the kitchen.

  “So, you’re keeping her on as Head Chef?” Rosa asks me. I nod.

  “Well, basically,” I say. “But she’s not in charge of the menu. She doesn’t keep the staff in line. That’s going to be you, if you still want the job.”

  Rosa takes a bit of egg, placing it atop her piece of toast. As she chews, I can see her mulling things over in her mind. Weighing the pros and cons. Wondering if I’m going to just fire her again in a week. I won’t ever make that mistake again, but she definitely knows that by now.

  “And I’ll have to work with Carly, then?”

  I nod.

  “She’s better now? Not going to storm off in a rush?”

  I shake my head. “She’s better. She knows if she storms off again we’re done for good. I’ll block her number if she does that to me again. Especially now that I’m the one signing her checks.”

  Rosa takes another bite, looks up at the ceiling and pauses. She’s still mulling things over, I can tell.

  “Fine,” Rosa says after what feels like the longest bite ever. “I’ll come back to work with you.”

  “Great,” I say, nearly sweating bullets. “I’m glad that’s out of the way—”

  “But I want you to double my pay,” Rosa adds. “That’s how you show me you’re sorry.”

  I blink, but nod and extend a hand over to her. “Done,” I say. “I’ll have it for you in writing by the end of the day.”

  Rosa smiles. “So, I start today?”

  I nod. “Things are getting hairy at Sebastian’s. We need you pronto.”

  ◆◆◆

  When I roll into Sebastian’s, Carly is waiting there for me.

  “Maaaason,” she welcomes me into the kitchen with a singsong voice as I take off my jacket and hang it up on the employee coat rack. “I’ve got some good neeeeeews!”

  “So do I. You go first.”

  “‘Kay, here goes,” Carly takes a deep breath and cups her hands together under her chin. “We’ve got a critic coming tonight!”

  I roll my eyes. “Sure we do.”

  “No, I’m serious! I called Deporte, told them about Sebastian’s opening a while back. They said they’d send someone tonight!”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m inclined to believe Carly this time, however, since she’s finally come clean and now she’s on my payroll.

  “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Great,” I say, adding: “Do you know what time they’ll be here?”

  “Eight o’clock, sharp,” Carly says, beaming. “Should I go set a table aside for them?”

  “Yeah. And make room for Rosa back here. She’s coming in tonight.”

  “Rosa’s back?” Carly’s eyes widen to the size of our dinner plates. “You didn’t tell me she’d be coming back!”

  I shrug. “Shit happens,” I say, giving Carly a taste of her own medicine for once.

  Just then, Rosa walks through the back door.

  “Why, hello there, sunshine!” Carly beams at her. I can tell it’s fake, I’ve known Carly for far too long to think otherwise. And now I’m regretting hiring them both on already.

  “Hey,” Rosa says casually to Carly. As Rosa takes her jacket off and heads to the employee coat rack, she touches my arm. “Hey,” she greets me too, much more warmly than our meeting this morning. I guess things are looking up between us now. Hopefully Carly doesn’t take it too personally.

  “Okay you two, let’s get to work on the menu for tonight. We’ve got the critic coming in, after all. Don’t blow this for me,” I say, looking specifically at Carly. “We’ve got a show to put on tonight.”

  I step into my office, figuring I might as well go over our first month’s numbers in the accounting log while we wait for the rest of the staff to show up.

  We're dealing with love on the line. Things are going to get dicey tonight, I just know it.

  Twenty-Nine

  I’m back at Sebastian’s and everyone is just going to have to deal with it. Carly especially. She’s not going to cut it as Head Chef, that much I can guarantee. Mason hasn’t even taken a chance on her yet and he’s already hired me on to take care of half of her duties. I don’t see her lasting the night. I hope she storms off again, leaving us all in peace to get back on with our lives.

  And I’d like to get my life back on track with Mason, especially. As I go through prep with Carly lagging behind me, I can tell there’s a reason Mason hasn’t stepped out of his front office in over an hour. He’s probably stressed about tonight. About the critic that�
�s a guarantee to show up now. Carly wouldn’t lie about the same thing twice to him.

  So, the pressure’s on. I prep everything we’ll possibly need tonight to avoid any curveballs. I prep chicken breast, vegetables of all sorts, and start making pasta noodles from scratch, just the way it’s supposed to be. It’s all going by so quickly. As the rest of the staff slowly pours in, Chef Carly tells them about the critic tonight. Everyone’s shocked to see her there, but nobody questions Mason’s decision to keep two Head Chefs on a night like tonight.

  I figure we're going to want to come up with something special for tonight. Carb-heavy, something that the critic won’t be able to brush aside with a throwaway sentence in their review. No, they’re going to remember Sebastian’s tonight. I’m sure of it.

  I start to prep some dough to make a calzone. It’s the best shot I’ve got here. I figure I can load it with fried eggplant, sausage, tomato sauce, cheese, the works.

  Carly peers over at me while she chops onions slowly. “Watcha’ doing over there?” she asks in her high-pitched singsong voice that I can’t stand.

  “Calzone,” I say, keeping my eyes on my work. “Thought I’d run it by Mason. See what he thinks once I’ve got it ready.”

  I go back to my work after I don’t hear anything further from Chef Carly. Great. Leave me in peace.

  I chop up the eggplant, getting a pan ready to fry them up in olive oil. I throw together a quick tomato sauce from scratch. By the time the calzone dough is ready, all my ingredients are prepped to go inside and I toss it in the oven when I’m done. As I wait for the calzone to cook in the oven, I decide to pop into Mason’s front office to let him know about my idea for the special.

  Only, Carly’s beaten me to it. She’s already in the office, leaning sultrily over Mason’s desk. He’s got his nose deep in his accounting book, but that’s not stopping Carly from trying.