Strangers To Lovers

Chapter Four

In the days following the unfortunate event earlier this week, I found myself confiding in Donna about the restaurant. “Have you ever given it any thought?” I asked, curious about her perspective. She nodded in affirmation, her eyes lighting up with interest. Donna was among the most important individuals in my life—one of my closest friends. Since we collaborated most of the workweek, I valued the opportunity to know her better.

Donna possessed a charming and friendly quality that was hard to resist. She often wore her hair in a messy bun, a style that suited her carefree spirit. One day while working, she sighed and said, “I need someone like that in my life.” She turned to me, her voice playful yet earnest, and added, “Could you fishtail my hair for me?”

Exhausted from the previous day's work, her mind was clearly asking her to unwind. “Don’t worry, you’re fine,” she whispered to herself, glancing up at the wall clock as if it could somehow provide reassurance.

She knew the name of the firm she worked for and muttered, “Don’t worry,” taking comfort in the peaceful atmosphere of the coffee shop. As she looked up at me, she raised an intense eyebrow and asked, “Did you see him?” She was referring to my friend from Michelangelo, the one I had mentioned the other night. I nodded, already aware of whom she meant.

“What’s he like?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

“For now, just keep his name in mind,” I replied, smiling as I began to braid her hair. I struggled with the hair tie meant to hold the braid in place, my mind drifting to my own memories. My memory wasn’t great; I couldn’t even recall what I did on my 21st birthday. “Do you remember?” I asked, attempting to divert our conversation.

“Why do you ask me that?” she replied, sounding surprised.

I couldn’t help but think of how much more luxurious the Michelangelo restaurants were compared to Connor’s hotels. Why did Luke choose to eat here before everyone else? Perhaps he received complimentary meals during his stay. After giving her my receipt and expressing my intent to track him down, I quickly realized the receipt was missing. It felt foolish to have given him money considering how much he had been drinking at the time. I wanted to get it back.

Donna was astounded when she discovered the tip. A note with the mark “forty-three cents” seemed significant to her. It felt as though he wanted to meet me. “Oh, no way. I wouldn’t want to do that. I’m not interested in working for you. A person like you would be eaten alive.” I rolled my eyes, relieved by her reaction.

“Your cuteness is your downfall,” she said, reiterating the receipt for me to see. “Having that kind of help would be a very positive thing for you,” she added, but I felt uneasy about it. The thought of it made me queasy. I couldn’t quite understand the note’s intention, but it seemed to indicate a positive direction. No matter how honest I was, Donna’s stern brown eyes made me understand the importance of always having some cash set aside for emergencies.

Worried about my finances, she asked, “How much money have you saved so far, and how much have you earned on your own?” I agreed that robbing a drunk person of their money was akin to stealing candy from a baby. But there was something unsettling about it.

With a little crumple of her brow, she groaned and decided, grudgingly, not to keep the money. My gut urged her to return it; if she had kept it, I would have felt ashamed. “I’m giving it back,” she finally said, and I supported her choice. While ten thousand may not seem like much to others who are affluent, family meant a lot to us.

“Yeah, it is important to us, isn’t it?” I replied, recalling my conversation with the man from Michelangelo about how he valued every dollar more than others who were wealthy. As Donna bent down to help me, I said, “Your cuteness is your downfall.”