Page 76 of For You, Sir

I wanted Einar’s new screenplay,Summer Camp,to succeed. The studio decided to take a chance on his script, after all, and I believed in its hopeful message. But more importantly, I loved how happy it made Einar to be creative. His project was in the earliest stages of preproduction, but he already came home every night buzzing with energy.

I wanted to go through life with a good man at my side, and things already looked promising. Our cutlery sets were jumbled together in the silverware drawer.

“Thank you, Madam,” I said, placing a hand on my chest. “For everything.”

Looking back on my years as a butler, I realized my favorite activity had been serving high tea to Madam in her rose garden. I loved the ritual of it, the elegance and tradition, the mastery of a hundred tiny details.

So, I used her cash gift as startup funds for my new business—a luxury catering service specializing in white-glove tea service, held in the customer’s own home or garden. Thanks to my years as a butler, I already knew the best places to source pastries and tea. Friends in the service industry gave me good leads for staffing, and after personally mastering every detail of tea service, I was happy to instruct new servers about how it was done.

There were still plenty of wrinkles to iron out, but I’d get there, eventually.

Today was ripe with potential, and tomorrow would be, too.

“Thanks for coming with me, Einar,” I said, as we headed back to the car.

“Of course, handsome. That’s what partners are for.”

“Just the same, Sir. I’m grateful.” I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow while we walked.

“Grateful enough to make gnocchi for dinner?” He raised his eyebrows, grinning.

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Something about the sexy way you roll out the dough with your hands...”

“Einar!” I shot him a reproving look.

“Okay, okay.” He chuckled and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Could you wear that sunflower apron while you’re making ‘em?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Justthe apron?”

I sniffed primly. “You, Sir, are incorrigible.”

Einar laughed and held the door for me. I brushed his lips as I slid into the passenger seat.

The night lights of Los Angeles winked on one by one as we drove home together.

Home. Where I loved Einar through service, and he served me through love. And as long as we poured into one another, our cups would never run dry.