"I'm fine."
"That's what you always say." Another pause. "That girl working with you… Maya, is it? She doing good work?"
My eyes find Maya across the kitchen. She's giving me privacy, pretending to organize something at her station, but I can feel her awareness of me.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "She's doing really good work."
"Good. You sound different when you talk about her. Lighter. That's good too."
Jesus. Is everyone in my life suddenly a relationship expert?
"I'll call you tomorrow, Granddad. I need to finish closing."
"Alright. Get some rest, Levi. And don't work yourself to death."
We hang up, and I turn back to Maya. She's watching me now, an eyebrow raised.
"Sorry about that," I say.
"Don't apologize. Family's important." She hesitates. "What did you want to talk about?"
Right. The conversation. The confession. The moment I've been building up to all day. My heart is racing so hard I'm surprised she can't hear it.
"I—" The words stick in my throat. "Maya, these past two weeks..."
She takes a step closer. "Yeah?"
Fuck it. No more fear. No more cowardice.
"I can't stop thinking about you," I tell her, the words tumbling out raw and unfiltered. "I know I'm your boss and there's an age gap and this is complicated as hell, but I need you to know that somewhere between hiring you and watching you make that perfect fucking galette last night, I started wanting more than just a professional relationship."
Chapter 6 - Maya
I can't believe what I just heard.
My brain stutters to a complete stop, replaying his words on loop like maybe I misheard, like maybe this is some kind of exhaustion-induced hallucination.
*I can't stop thinking about you.*
Levi Harper, my boss, the talented chef I've been quietly crushing on for two weeks, the man who's barely acknowledged my existence beyond professional necessity, just told me he can't stop thinking about me.
This has to be a prank. Any second now, someone's going to jump out with cameras, and I'll realize I've been set up for some cruel joke. I actually reach up and rub my ears like that'll somehow help me process what I just heard.
He's still staring at me, waiting for an answer, his expression vulnerable in a way I've never seen before. Those tired eyes are wide with something that looks like fear and hope mixed together, and his hands are clenched at his sides like he's physically restraining himself.
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Say something, Maya. Anything. He just confessed his feelings and you're standing here like an idiot, gaping at him.
But I can't form words because my heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat, and my hands are shaking, and every single fantasy I've had about this man over the past two weeks is suddenly crashing into reality.
He feels the same way. He wants me too.
"Maya?" His voice is rough, uncertain. "Say something. Please."
He's not wrong about the complications. He is my boss. There is an age gap, twelve years, which isn't nothing. People will judge us. They'll think I'm sleeping my way to success, that I'm using him, that this is inappropriate and unprofessional.