Must Date The Chef

|| 49

Minutes have gone by since a female server called Paul's attention, I try not to think too much about his disappearance as I sit alone at the dining table with no interest in the sumptuous meals for company. I blame him for my lack of appetite, it stepped out with him but he can feed me on his return, after our talk. I shake off the nerves, we talk all the time, it can't be much different now.

Ladies in similar outfits come out to remove the stainless bowls and plates on the table, my eyes rove over them, looking out for the girl who called Paul. I give out a description to them, they reply in the negative and my chest deflates. Waiting is a small price to pay if I want us to reconcile, I can do it. I have to do it, I want him, I love that man.

Out of boredom, I start counting the seats, all thirty of them until the waiters take their leave. Alone with my thoughts again, my shoulders sag and I trace the gold armrest of the chair Chi vacated. This is the oddest party --if I can call it that-- I have attended. To me, it feels like the guests needed an excuse, a place to cool off and Mr Adams volunteered to provide them with that under the guise of celebrating Paul. I am sure Paul doesn't know half of the people present, I scoff, the host is still missing.

Another glance at my wrist shows Paul has been gone for ten minutes, I stand, my purse clenched in my grip as I journey in the direction the server ushered him. We need to talk, about what? I don't know yet, I can start with an apology but his presence is needed. He should be here already, I let out a sigh, he shouldn't have even left.

High life music filters in from the parlour I strut pass on my way to the kitchen, a smile flits to my lips as I sight grown men dancing and humming to the soulful melody with Chi nowhere to be found. Daddy played a lot of this. He would move his legs in that funny way like he wanted to jump but forgot how, his hand rubbing his tummy as he sang the chorus along with the musician.

I love daddy but he was a horrible dancer, the worst in the house. He and Mmá were constantly battling for the title of the most awful dancer but he always took the spot. I let out a chuckle and snatch a glass of wine on the tray of the server who rushes past me. If he were here, he would tell me to go after Paul, my man, after sitting me down to ask if he was handsome and worth the stress of being pined over or the sleepless nights I spent thinking of him. Paul is worth it, he is worth more than I have treated him.

The stifled voices coming from the kitchen assure me I am on the right track, I stop at the door left ajar and wait to pick out their words. Their voices seem to grow lower but I can identify Paul's, that rich voice plagues my dreams, day and night. I love the sound of it, especially his morning raspy voice.

I take a deep breath, my back rests against the wall with the flute perched between my fingers and my eyes land on the flowerpots positioned a few feet away from where I am standing. Their voices fade, I exhale and wait for them to step out but they remain inside. I drum my foot into the tiled floor, the purse in my hand swaying gently, I hope he remembers he left me at the table, kept me waiting without any form of excuse.

A thought hits me, a wicked chuckle escapes me as I shuffle to empty the wine into one of the flowerpots. I raise the glass, now, I need a refill, the perfect excuse to enter the kitchen. Tracing the rim of the cup, I exhale feverishly, spin and head off to find him.

No, I am off to get a refill of this sweet wine which should be in the kitchen he happens to be at. Not him. I take another step forward, he better be alone, I am tired of dilly-dallying, I want him. Gosh, I need him. It will be nicer if I can get him in my bed, I don't want us to spend another night apart.

Wincing at the sound of my feet connecting with the floor, I wonder how the irritating sound hasn't caught their attention. My chest rises and falls, I gulp and the hand holding the empty cup trembles. What if he gets annoyed by my interruption? I gulp, I don't want to be in his bad book anymore.