Jordan POV
I really thought I'd be back at work the next day… but the universe had other plans. I got worse. Even with the meds, my body felt like it was made of lead.
Still, I tried to be stubborn. I was determined to defy my own body and drag myself out of bed. But Melissa's mom caught me halfway to the breakfast table, looked me up and down for three seconds, and just said: "Bed." No room for negotiation. And I obeyed, with no strength left to argue.
She even grabbed my phone herself, called the restaurant, and informed Chef Adam of my condition. I managed a muffled grunt from beneath the blanket.
So instead of going back to the restaurant, I stayed put. In bed. Not just for an afternoon — but three full days — which included my scheduled day off. The restaurant closes after lunch on Sundays and is shut on Mondays, but still… with the time I took off plus Sunday morning, that adds up to three full missed workdays.
I also ended up postponing dinner with Lorenzo. I was already feeling better, but… it didn't feel right to skip work and then suddenly go have dinner with the sous-chef. Even if it was at his place. What would Chef Adam think? Yes. Of course I care what he thinks. As my boss. He is my boss. Nothing more.
"Are you sure you're okay to go back tomorrow?" Melissa asked, leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed as I packed the few things I'd brought from my place. "Adam's been insufferable these past few days. More than usual."
"I'm fine, Mel. Your mom's been amazing, but I can't take advantage of her hospitality forever," I told her while slowly folding the blanket at the foot of the bed.
The truth? A part of me still didn't feel ready to face Chef Adam. But not because I'd been sick.
"They're probably overwhelmed at the restaurant, and me being out of commission… hasn't helped."
"They've been running it mostly just the two of them," she said with a shrug, referring to Adam and Lorenzo. "But my mom loved you. You can overstay any time."
I smiled at her. I'd loved her parents too. Impossible not to. They practically adopted me during those days I stayed with them. Melissa's mom wouldn't let me leave the bed — she'd show up with soup, tea, medicine, and… affection. She looked after me like I was her own daughter.
Honestly? She almost tied with my dad. Back home, growing up, he was the one who always played nurse.
My mom? She left when I was five. Took my sister with her. Mother to her. Father to me. I didn't choose — she made the choice. But I think she knew who I would've chosen.
"I loved your mom. And your dad too," I said with a quiet smile.
"Great. Because they're already planning to invite you over for dinner next Sunday."
"Sunday I'm supposed to have dinner with Lorenzo…" I murmured, glancing down.
"It was supposed to be yesterday, but I thought it best to postpone."
"Oh! You should have gone… Lorenzo's such a snack," she said with a teasing grin.
I rolled my eyes.
"Do people still say that?" I laughed.
"They do now, thank you very much," she winked.
"So… are you going to ignore Adam's 'no dating' rule and throw yourself at Lorenzo?"
"It's not that kind of dinner," I answered quickly. It wasn't… was it? When exactly had that changed? I'm pretty sure I already wanted to be dessert. But I wasn't ready to admit that to Melissa. Or the whole disaster that happened at Chef Adam's apartment.
"Ohhh… so what, he's not your type? You don't think he's hot? Or are you just scared of Adam's rules?" Was I supposed to answer all of that? Didn't seem like it, because the questions just kept coming. "You know… if Adam weren't such a pain in the ass, he'd be kind of appetizing too, don't you think?"
I coughed. Choked. Almost died on my own saliva.
"Mel!" I scolded.
"What? I have eyes, don't I?" she said, placing a hand over her heart in mock offense.
"Have you ever imagined him shirtless?"
"Melissa Kane!" I scolded again. But really, I should've been scolding myself.
"Ohhh, you're blushing…" she laughed, pointing at my face. "I think I got my answer."
I shook my head and laughed, defeated. The truth? One of them I hadn't just imagined.
And the real thing… was better than any fantasy.
"Do you think he's into you?" she asked suddenly.
"Chef Adam?" I raised my eyebrows, genuinely confused.
"No, Jo. Lorenzo," she rolled her eyes. "Unless… you prefer Adam?"
"No." I answered way too fast. She laughed in my face.
"Hmm… not sure that 'no' convinced me," she teased. I grabbed the nearest pillow and tossed it at her.
"Hurry up and take me home," I muttered, half laughing. It was Monday — the restaurant was closed, and we were all off. But tomorrow… I was back. Supposedly recharged.
My apartment finally had power and water again — after two days of a total blackout. Thankfully, I'd been able to stay with Melissa.
That afternoon, after we left Adam's place, we stopped at mine to grab a change of clothes and some essentials. Melissa ended up lending me some things too. I stayed longer than expected.
I was completely recovered now. Well… mostly. Because some images still haunted me.
Images of a certain man. Shirtless. Moments away from undressing completely. Upstairs.
At the restaurant. Just the memory made my heart race. And my body… heat up.
How was I supposed to face Chef Adam tomorrow?
"You know… he didn't use to be like this. So unbearable." Melissa said out of nowhere. She was talking about Adam? This girl switches topics so fast it gives me whiplash.
"Big city changed him a lot," she added. That made me… curious. I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand what happened to the once-famous Chef Adam Black, who disappeared from the spotlight over three years ago and only resurfaced when he opened a restaurant here. But all I knew was what the media had reported.
I was about to ask — but of course… she changed the subject again.
"You could stay another night. We'd go in together tomorrow," she suggested, sweetly.
I wanted to ask the question. But I felt like the moment had passed. And I didn't want to seem… too interested.
"I want to get things sorted at home before tomorrow. You know how I am." She shrugged, giving in. We'd already had this conversation yesterday.
"But you can still help me with groceries."
"Oh, sure," I smiled back. A smile too wide. Too mischievous. Like she was definitely plotting something.
And just like that… I regretted suggesting the shopping trip.
But then again… maybe I could dig a little deeper into Adam's past.
I didn't find out anything new about Chef Adam's past. What I did find was a dangerously revealing black dress that I definitely didn't need — and still don't know when I'll wear.
Supposedly for our "girls' night." No date yet.
"Yet, Jo. Yet. But it's happening soon," Melissa said as she dragged me to the checkout line. I liked that she shortened my name to "Jo."
And that was just the first store she dragged me into. She got way too excited about shopping and turned "a quick grocery run" into a full-blown retail triathlon. Clothes. Shoes. "Must-have" products. I knew I needed a few things — but I walked in needing one pair of shoes and walked out with four. And two shopping bags full of clothes.
Bravo, Jordan. Excellent financial planning. Great timing, considering the end of the month is creeping in — along with my intern salary. At this rate, I'll have to sell a kidney on the black market.
By the time I got home, I had zero energy. But I forced myself to unpack everything, cooked a quick — but delicious — dinner, and took a nearly-scalding hot shower. Heavenly. Then… bed.
But first: Triple-checked that my phone was charging. Alarm set.
And because trauma is trauma, I bought a battery-powered alarm clock.
This time — no being late. I swear.