Unveiling Sharon

An unexpected call

Robert slammed his hands on the desk, his patience wearing thin. "Explain to me why customers are complaining," he demanded, his voice sharp. His gaze pinned the manager standing across from him, who looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else but here.

"Sir, it's...it's what I've been trying to explain," the manager stammered. "We're short-staffed. The workload is overwhelming, and service has slowed down as a result. The team is doing their best, but..."

Robert raised a hand, cutting him off. "Enough with the excuses. I’ve heard this complaint too many times." He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Put out a notice for hiring immediately. We’ll need two waitresses and one waiter. No additional cooks are required, right?"

The manager quickly shook his head. "No, sir. The kitchen staff is managing well, especially since you're hands-on when needed."

"Good," Robert replied, rubbing his temples. "Take care of it by the end of today."

"Yes, sir." The manager left swiftly, closing the office door behind him.

Robert glanced around his modest office, its walls adorned with framed photos of successful events the restaurant had catered to and certificates of achievement. His restaurant wasn’t lavish, but it had become a cornerstone of the community over the past three years. It was his pride, his passion, a culmination of his love for cooking and his dedication to bringing people together through food.

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his dark hair. The thought of dissatisfied customers gnawed at him. He hated anything less than excellence.

Before he could get lost in his thoughts, his phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a familiar name.

"Hey, Ma," he said, picking up.

"Rob, dear! How’s my hardworking son?" his mother’s cheerful voice chimed on the other end.

"I’m fine, Ma. How are you? Missing me already?" he teased, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, stop it," she chuckled. "Workaholic that you are, I have to remind you to take care of yourself. Speaking of which, don’t forget to pick up groceries on your way home."

"Of course, I totally remembered that," Robert lied with a sheepish chuckle.

"Uh-huh, sure you did," his mother teased. "Don’t make me remind you again, Rob."

"Got it, Ma. I’ll take care of it."

"Good. Mama loves you."

"I love you too," he said softly before hanging up. His mother always had a way of softening his edges.

With a glance at the clock, he decided to check on the restaurant floor. Stepping out of his office, he observed the staff in action. The dining area was bustling, and the air buzzed with chatter and the clinking of cutlery. For the most part, everything seemed under control—except for a pair of waitresses who kept throwing flirtatious glances his way. One even winked when their eyes met.

He smirked to himself, shaking his head. Being good-looking came with its quirks, but he had no interest in entertaining anyone’s advances.

Later that evening, Robert sat at the dinner table with his mother, the aroma of home-cooked food filling the room. He savored each bite while his mother observed him with a knowing smile.

"So," she began, her tone casual but loaded with meaning, "any lucky girl yet?"

Robert almost choked on his food. He should have seen this coming.

"Not yet, Ma," he replied with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "Still searching."

"Searching? Or avoiding?" she shot back, arching a brow.

"I’m serious, Ma," he lied again. The truth was, he hadn’t even been trying. Work had consumed him, and he liked it that way. Relationships seemed like a complication he didn’t need right now.

"Well, I hope you find someone soon," his mother said, leaning forward with a wistful look in her eyes. "I’m not getting any younger, you know. I’d like to have grandchildren before I’m too old to enjoy them."

"Ma, you already have two grandchildren from Camilla," Robert pointed out, referring to his older sister, who had been married for five years and had two energetic kids.

"And don’t you think I know that?" his mother retorted. "But I want grandkids from you too! You’re 28, Rob. You’re successful, financially stable, and ready to settle down. What are you waiting for?"

Robert sighed, pushing his plate aside. He adored his mother, but her matchmaking attempts and constant reminders about his single status were exhausting. He still hadn’t forgiven her for trying to pair him with one of her friend’s daughters last year.

"Ma," he said, keeping his tone patient, "I’ll settle down when the time is right. You can’t rush these things."

"I’m not rushing you," she said, though her expression said otherwise. "I just don’t understand why you’re dragging your feet. You’re a catch, Rob. Any girl would be lucky to have you."

Robert gave her a weak smile, knowing this conversation wasn’t going anywhere. "When it happens, you’ll be the first to know, Ma. Promise."

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Fine. But don’t keep me waiting too long."

As they cleaned up after dinner, his phone vibrated on the counter. He picked it up absentmindedly but froze when he saw the name on the screen: Tiana.

It had been months since he’d last spoken to her, and the sight of her name stirred something unfamiliar in his chest.

"Who’s calling?" his mother asked, glancing over curiously.

"Uh, no one important," Robert said quickly, stepping into the hallway. He hit the green button and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Tiana," he said cautiously.

"Hey, Robert," Her voice was smooth but laced with a hint of hesitation. "I hope it’s okay that I called. I just... I’ve been thinking about you lately."

Robert’s jaw tightened. "Is that so? Why now?"

There was a brief pause on the other end. "I know I’m the last person you want to hear from after everything that happened, but I..I miss you, Rob. Can we meet? Just to talk."

His throat tightened. This was the same Tiana who had walked out of his life without a proper explanation, leaving him to pick up the pieces. And now, she wanted to talk?

"I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He replied, his voice firm.

"Please.” She said softly. And knowing Rob, Tiana always knew his soft spot. "Just one conversation. That’s all I’m asking."

Robert hesitated, his grip tightening on the phone. Against his better judgment, he finally said, "I’ll think about it."

"Thank you," Tiana said, her voice laced with relief. "Goodnight, Rob."

He hung up without replying, leaning against the wall. His mother’s voice drifted from the kitchen, asking if he was okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer.

Why now, Tiana?

And why did he still care?