Personal Chef

Chapter 22

It was really hard saying goodbye to each person as they left The Woodshed since I'd grown so fond of Shawn's team during our month together. It broke my heart a little that I wasn't able to cook one last special meal for everyone.

Before anyone left, Shawn presented everyone with a pale green hoodie that said TEAM MENDES on the front, and had our name on the back. When I saw that he'd put 'Chels' instead of 'Chelsea' on mine, my heart skipped a beat. I'd never really had a nickname, and I'd grown to love that he called me that.

We'd all exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch, but unless Shawn hired me to do this again the next time he recorded, I knew it was unlikely I'd see any of them again. For one thing, I'd hopefully have my restaurant by the time he started his next album. As I hugged each person goodbye, tears filled my eyes.

Shawn and I moved into the suite at the Waldorf Astoria that Andrew booked for us. It was unsurprisingly luxurious, which of course made me feel guilty. My accident was costing a fortune. I decided that I would email Andrew once I was home to ask him to deduct all the additional charges from my paycheck. Yes, it would set my restaurant plans back a bit, but it was not right that Shawn was absorbing the extra expenses. I knew better than to talk to Shawn about this. He'd insist on paying for everything and would probably try to give me a bonus on top of that. He was so freaking generous.

My boss was not particularly happy with our hotel accommodations. There was one king bed and a fold out couch. He'd been expecting two beds. Shawn tried booking an additional room, but there were none available.

"It's okay," I said after he got off the phone with the front desk. "I'll be fine on the fold-out."

Shawn looked at me like I was crazy. "You aren't taking the couch, Chels. I am. And you are right; it will be fine."

Shaking my head I said, "Absolutely not. You're Shawn Mendes and I'm just the chef. The bed is yours!"

"I'm sleeping on the fold-out. You're welcome to join me if you refuse to take the bed, but I'm not budging on this."

And so I agreed to take the bed. Did I wonder what it would be like to share the tiny fold-out with him? Yes. But I pushed those thoughts out of my head.

We spent our first day in the hotel watching movies, playing games together on our phones, and eating decadent room service food. Shawn strummed his guitar and sang songs at night before we went to bed.

My ankle was definitely improving by the second day, but my spirits were rather low. I was missing the team, though I'd loved getting texts from each person as they got home safely. Teddy sent me a list of recipe requests, which I happily gave to her.

I was eating breakfast in bed while Shawn sat on a chair near me. He'd ordered way too much food, so I was trying to prioritize what I wanted to eat.

"What's the matter?" Shawn asked.

I looked over at him. "Nothing."

"Liar. You've been frowning at your Belgian waffle for five minutes. Is there something wrong with it."

"It's delicious."

"Then why the face?" he asked as he stood up and moved over so that he was sitting next to me on the bed.

His beautiful brown eyes were pleading with me to talk to him.

"It's just that I had such a good time this month. I'm sad that it's over. And I'm upset that it ended on such a bad note. My job was to make your life easier and I ended up complicating it."

He smiled sympathetically at me. "I'm always a little down after these recording trips. It means you really were part of the team if you feel the same way, and I love that."