Cutie With a Booty

32. Timeliness is Godliness

6:32 a.m.

To my left is a very rich and famous nutritionist and to my right is a representative of a famous chef from Dallas. In front of me is an untouched mimosa and eggs benedict with a piece of toast. Behind me is the door I would really, really, really like to be running out of. Four days after finishing my log and here begins meetings galore. Dinners, early breakfasts, brunches, lunches, phone deals, emails, and more. I can't take it.

I can't take it when all I can think about every minute of everyday is Justin and getting rid of Richard. The last update I received on Richard is that he is doing just fine in West Virginia. And if I had it my way I would ruin his science filled bliss with a big fat damn breakup.

Except I'm not supposed to know he is in West Virginia. I am not supposed to know what he is working on. I am supposed to wait. And wait. And wait. I'm honestly tired of fucking waiting. I take action at work but I haven't taken the initiative in regards to my personal life. My personal life is a wreck.

"...Wouldn't you agree?" the woman to my right asked.

Blinking unsurely, I said, "No." For the past half hour, they have been trying to get me to do a part two to the log that focuses on foods for the grill in specific, gushing on how Texans love to grill. The thing is I don't really grill all too much. So how can I focus on that if I hardly know how to do it? "I only know how to grill chicken, hot dogs, and burgers, that's all."

"You could read up on it a bit and—"

"That's not the kind of girl I am. I am not in any position to teach people how to grill certain foods. Who do you think I am, Guy Fieri?" I snort.

The representative of the famous chef chuckled underneath his breath. "Good one." I smiled.

The woman frowned. "You're not capitalizing on your roots and nature—"

"I was born and raised in Vermont, darling. I packed up and came to Texas for college then never went back home. I haven't been here that long." Hello, I'm twenty-two!

Her nose wrinkled. "You're from Vermont?"

Literally she could have found that online. Annoyed to the point of pain, I turned to face the man. "Give me a call about the chef featuring some of my foods. I'm very interested in the prospect. I'm afraid I have somewhere else to be in a few."

The man gave a curt nod and then typed away at his phone as he rose from his seat. I like him, he actually has a purpose. Withholding a glare for the woman, I stood up as well, slipping out my own phone, finding a text from Mr. Cobalt. Immediately my heart began to race.

Would have called, but I remember you told me you had meetings this morning. Look, this is really really dicey, okay? Justin's flight is coming in today. He'll be in Texas by 5:30 p.m. Richard's flight comes in too but not until 8:59 p.m. So, if you can stall Justin, tell him you have idk a dinner meeting or something and you'll be by at 10 p.m. at the earliest... Richard has to stop by the lab to deposit his findings so he may be there by 9 something and then you can break it off and I'll make sure your driver knows to get you to Justin as fast as possible.

My entire body grew cold and I didn't even care to respond as the annoying nutritionist woman said something else about grilling. It takes at least an hour to get from DFW airport to that lab and the flight could get delayed there are no guarantees. Justin will expect me before midnight. This. Can't. Be. Happening. Ferociously, I decided to dial up Mr. Cobalt, pushing the door to this breakfast diner open, feeling the cool air against my cheeks.