Blue Plaid

Team

In which Tyson learns he has a protective side.

//

The restaurant was still dark when I stepped through the back door. Unsurprising, though, as I was a half hour early for my shift.

I had a ritual. I always came in early to clean the knives and set out the pots and pans. By no means was I the head chef of this restaurant, but I liked to feel as though I was in charge of something; as though something belonged to me, so I made a little work station for myself on the back stove.

I did this at home as well: sang to myself as cleaned the tools I would soon be using. And Stella could make fun of me all she wanted, but I knew she understood because one time I caught her humming along as she flipped through a magazine, waiting for me to finish cooking dinner.

We'd settled into kind of a routine, Stella, Cooper, and I. She generally had photoshoots during the days and I worked night shifts, which was actually perfect. On the rare occasion that one of had a day off, we'd take the much needed break to go see other people.

This separation worked for us because it gave us a chance to keep some semblance of normalcy in our lives. My friends knew about Cooper, but the subject didn't come up much. They had never actually met him.

I assumed Stella was much the same. Of course, her agent knew the details in case it was ever mentioned in an interview or became a problem with her agency, but thus far, that didn't seem to be a problem.

We'd learned to tolerate each other over the past couple months, Stella and I. This wasn't difficult, seeing as we barely saw each other as it was. But we'd bonded over the moments we did spend together, laughing and cheering when Cooper reached the stage where we could hold him up by his arms and he'd walk tentatively across the room. We were bracing ourselves for the day he'd be able to properly walk, as we knew things would never be the same.

I smiled to myself at the thought as other assistant chefs and the wait staff began to wander into the kitchen.

"Early as usual, Kingsley."

Looking up, my smile widened at Daniella Jaffrey, a waitress who began working at the restaurant just a few months before me. A combination of complaining about the tyrant head chef and trading humorous stories about our wild university days had made us close friends.

"Hey, Dani," I greeted. "Late as usual."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not late. Not everybody likes getting here while the kitchen's still dark and creepy."

"What can I say," I shrugged and laughed. "I enjoy spooky places."

She raised her eyebrows and lowered her voice. "Is that why you like my building so much?"

"Could be," I nodded. "I don't know if I thanked you, by the way. So thanks for telling me about that open space."

"No problem," she replied. "Why'd you move, anyway? You seemed to like your old place just fine."

I hesitated. When I'd originally told Dani that I wanted to move, I hadn't told her the reason. And she still had yet to discover that I was currently living with a supermodel and a baby. Probably because that sounded like the plot of a comedy show.

Or because my relationship with Dani was somewhat complicated. Considering we'd slept together multiple times, usually when we were both entirely too intoxicated, I couldn't really say we were just friends. But Dani had also told me blatantly at the start of our little sessions that she had no interest in being in a relationship with me.

It certainly wasn't an arrangement I was used to, but it actually seemed to be working out fairly well, all things considered.

I shrugged when I found her staring at me because I still hadn't answered the question. "Just needed a change."