Mia, a struggling waitress and Tristian, a high-spirited play boy. Mia tries to run away from him but Tristian is not the one to give up easily.
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Mia's best friend, Troy ripped a piece of her heart out when she realized that he loves another...
If forever does exist, please let it be you... - a.r. asher
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"How was the surgery?" Terry asks from the kitchen as I walk towards him.
"Success," I mutter as I settle on the chair kept near the small kitchen table.
"Awesome."
"Where is Mia? I want to talk to her. She seemed upset today and I was so busy with surgery that I couldn't spend a minute with her." Surgeries were minor but still not something a junior could do so I had to attend it as two senior surgeons are on leave.
Terry doesn't reply, he just grins like a little boy who got his favorite candy." "You look happy," I said while he takes the seat across from me.
His smile didn't disappear instead he smiled brighter. "She's an angel," he mutters and I frown.
"Who?"
"Mia," he tells and he immediately gets my attention.
"Mia? Where is she? Did you pick her up as I told you?" I ask.
He cocks his head, holding my gaze and then smiles again. "She's in my office. Working. You know what? I'm her double boss from today. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Double boss?" I grumble, which only provokes more amused smile from him.
"Yeah she's working two jobs from today. One as my baker and then my mini assistant. She's damn good in designing, I mean I knew she had some talent but I didn't expect this much..." I just stare at him as he continues to praise for another five minutes. I frown when I hear the story from Mia quitting from the restaurant to how he offered her the jobs and she moved into his house. Why did she moved out from her house? She could have stayed with me in my house which would make things much better for us.
"I want to talk to her," I muttered as I stood up on my feet.
"Don't disturb her," he drawls with a small smile spreading on his face.
My expression turns hard, my lips turn flatten. "Why?" I murmurs, continuing to glare at him.
I see Terry now holding his coffee, looking at us from across the living room. He turns his attention to the sofa, while I shuffle outside and shut the door behind me. "She's working," he mutters as he straightens his shirt that looks to have needed to be tackled by an iron. The dull, white button-down is missing a button near the top.
"I don't care. I want to talk to my girl."
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