The Wrong Bond

17

“I haven’t been here in a while, but I know they have the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted,” Shawn assured me.

“Even better than your mom’s pancakes? No one would admit anything is better than their mom’s cooking, I’ve noticed.”

“I would say they’re better.”

A waitress brought menus over to us and gave me a death glare before she walked back to the counter. I tried to ignore her as Shawn flipped through the menu with a practiced ease. I could tell he was doing it for show, because he probably knew his order by heart.

I smiled as my eyes wandered away from him to observe the café. And then I noticed them out of the corner of my eye. At the booth by the far end of the café, a couple of girls who looked like they’d drunkenly found their way to the café after a rough night at the club kept throwing looks my way.

Their whispers got louder by the minute, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. It all made sense when one of them pulled out her phone and began taking pictures of us.

I pulled the hood of the hoodie over my head and sank deeper into the seat.

“Is it always like this when you’re out?” I asked Shawn.

“Like what?”

I nodded at the girls’ table. “Over there.”

He looked over and pulled his own hood down. “It can be like this sometimes. Thankfully, there are no paparazzi here, so we just need to ignore the attention, have breakfast, and get out of here.”

“Ignoring the attention won’t be too easy,” I mumbled, feeling their eyes burning into my skin.

“Well, just focus on me.”

I nodded, my eyes on him.

The same waitress arrived with a notepad, smacking gum. “May I take your order, sir?” Her eyes trailed to me in disgust. “Ma’am?”

“I’ll have the house pancakes, smothered in maple syrup with fruit on the side. And a cup of coffee, please.”

The waitress flashed a bright smile at Shawn, but as soon as she turned to me, her smile dropped. “And you, ma’am?”

“I’ll have the house pancakes too, with chocolate syrup and fruit on the side,” I responded quickly, shriveling under her gaze.

She wrote down my order, her gum smacking loudly. “You don’t look like you’re from here, ma’am,” the waitress said, her eyes on me.

“Uh, I’m not.”

“That’ll be all for now,” Shawn chimed in, noticing how uncomfortable I was.

The waitress turned on her heel and left us.

I turned to face him. “Do I look like I’m not from around here?”

“I have no idea what that means,” Shawn responded.

What it meant was that everyone saw how out of place I was, and that bothered me. But I didn’t mention it to Shawn again because I knew it didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

The waitress returned almost immediately with our food, and I could feel Shawn waiting to see my reaction to my first bite.

“It’s not that bad,” I said, trying my hardest not to show my reaction.

Shawn smiled. “I don’t believe you.”

I chuckled. “They’re actually great. You were right, and I hate that you were right.”

I saw him visibly relax. “I knew you would enjoy it.”

We spent the rest of the morning eating pancakes, laughing and ignoring the stares, glares, and camera flashes. I felt comfortable with Shawn, and thankfully he never brought up what had happened the night before.

Somehow I felt relieved and frightened. My head and my heart were at war, but so far, my heart was clearly winning.

CHAPTER 9

SHAWN

I

massaged my temples and shook my head, trying to get rid of my thoughts of Arlene and focus on the business meeting happening right now.

The blank faces and the even blanker projector screen stared right back at me, making anger rise inside me.

I’d told my assistant, Gloria, to throw the idea of renovating the downtown district to the team and see how they reacted to it. They’d been briefed by Gloria a week ago. I was expecting results today, but there was nothing.

I’d rushed to the company this morning after a late night in, expecting to have proposals of how to go about the renovations from the team. Instead, I was called in for a Code Red, which we hadn’t had in years.

Now here I was, a blank projector screen facing me and the people who were supposed to provide me with solutions staring back at me. None of them spoke to me, and I remained silent too, trying not to let anger consume me.

I’d predicted this, and now it had finally happened, and it was termed a Code Red. I’d written pitches and taken it up with the CEO, aka my father, but my idea hadn’t been taken into consideration. And now, I’d been called in for a Code Red that could’ve been avoided if he’d listened to me.

My eyes trailed to the empty seat at the head of the table, where my father was supposed to sit.

I sipped my glass of scotch, and a muscle in my jaw ticked.

“Why am I here?” I asked finally, breaking the thick silence in the room.

“There’s a Code Red,” Gloria said before anyone else could speak.

“I know that,” I said slowly. “And why’s there a Code Red?”

Gloria spoke up again, her voice low and shaky.

“I briefed you about the current situation in the car.”

She had, but I refused to believe that was why she’d rushed me to the office.

A cold smile played on my face. “Perhaps you’d like to brief the entire room too.”