Page 3 of Riding the Curve

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Get your coat on and get to work. You’re in charge tonight.”

After a rampant show of her disappointment in front of all the staff, she left me in charge of the dinner shift. Before storming out on the broom she flew in on, she casually revealed that we were also down a line chef and two servers.

Fantastic.

I thought her being harder on me this month was to prepare me for the promotion, but I was incredibly wrong.

By 1 am, I finally closed the kitchen and managed to drag myself home. In all the years I’d worked at Le Beurre, I’d never experienced a more chaotic dinner service. Honestly, I was surprised I managed to escape with only swollen feet and an aching back.

As I unlocked the door to our apartment, I was ready to bundle myself beneath my fluffy covers. Instead, I was met with a very flushed, very disheveled-looking boss.

“Sadie?” I breathed, her face turning the same pale white as the door she was holding.

“Hey, babe! Hold up, you forgot this!” Carson’s deep voice arose from behind her.

Babe? Hell . . . what did I just walk into?

Sweat started beading down my back as his arm curved around Sadie’s waist, pulling her into him. Still oblivious that I was standing in the doorway, he kissed the side of her neck. I glared at the crumpled-up ball of black lace in his palm.

Sadie’s eyes fluttered closed as every part of me ignited with rage.

“Morning, Carson,” I drawled, watching with fury as he suddenly became aware of my presence.

“Henley—” he gasped, his gaze bouncing from Sadie’s to mine. “I-I can explain!”

He stormed forward, bumping Sadie aside to the wall beside her. With a huff, she pushed him back. Her scowl deepened as she shoved through us into the hallway. Before she reached the elevator, she turned to face me. An emotion that looked on the verge of remorse creased her forehead, replacing her frown.

“Henley, I think we both know it’s best if you start looking for another job. Leave your keys with Carson. He’ll drop them by my place tomorrow.” The elevator doors opened wide and one of our neighbors exited. Spinning abruptly in her Louis Vuittons, Sadie escaped into the elevator just before the door closed, leaving behind just me and the man who was about ten seconds away from having an appendage julienned and seared to a crisp.

“Henny-pie,” Carson cooed softly. The stupid nickname made me wince. His palm wrapped around my arm, and my skin burned.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Touch. Me.” I hissed, spitting out each word with enough venom he should have been lying on the floor convulsing.

Instead, his mouth gaped open and shut, looking like a damn floundering fish. I shoved him aside and made my way into the apartment. As I made my way into our bedroom to grab my suitcases, footsteps thundered down the hallway behind me.

The golden glow of my salt lamp illuminated the hunter green satin sheets I’d picked out for us when I moved in. Once pristine, they now lay crumpled and astray, further evidence of what had transpired here tonight. With a shudder, I pushed forward to the back of the closet. Clawing my large floral suitcase and carry-on from the back, I hauled them into the bedroom and tossed them open onto the bed. Frantically, I began shoving as many of my belongings as I could into them.

What was I going to do? Panic crawled into my chest, crushing it with the weight of all my fears. Normally, I was exploding with emotions on a regular basis. Now all I felt was numb. Empty.

“Henley, stop.” Carson spoke calmly beside me, pulling on a shirt and mussing his sex-induced hair. “Come on, where do you think you’re going to go? It’s almost two in the morning, babe. Sit down, and let’s talk about this.”

The laugh that passed through my lips was mirthless. If anything, it was a tinge maniacal.

“What is there left to talk about? You’ve been having an affair. And not with just anyone, Carson. No, you’ve been screwing my boss!” I paused, my chest rising and falling and rage thrumming like fire through me. “How long.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a demand.

“Babe, it was only⁠—”

“How fucking long, Carson?”

One hand curled into a fist while the other pulled at the roots of his hair.

“Two years,” he whispered like a coward. Too damn chicken to say it out loud.

In all my life I had never felt so much anger pulsing through my body. Furious that my job blew up in flames because of it. But mostly, I was enraged at myself for not seeing what had been going on right in front of me for so long.

“She was my mentor. Not only have you broken our relationship, but you’ve destroyed my career all in one night!” I seethed.