The day has come. The day where I get to meet my knight in shiny amour again. My dear Jake.
By 9 a.m., I was already in the kitchen—flour on my hands, curls pinned up, heart thudding harder than the blender as I pulsed almonds into a fine crumble. I'd been up since 5, cleaning places that were already clean, spraying perfumes into the air like I was expecting royalty, not just Jake. But to me, he was royalty. Quiet, brooding, handsome royalty with a military jawline and eyes that said too much.
I was going to impress him.
No, scratch that. I was going to seduce him—gracefully. Elegantly. With the help of garlic butter shrimp, chilled wine, and just enough cleavage to say hello without screaming desperate.
The kitchen smelled divine. The shrimp was already marinating in lemon, thyme, and a touch of white pepper. I had hand-rolled spring rolls sitting in the fridge, ready to be fried fresh, and my chocolate lava cakes—baked halfway—rested on the counter like secrets waiting to erupt.
Everything was perfect.
Except me. I was still in sweats and a tank top, with a smudge of flour on my cheek and my socks unmatched. But that was for later. I had time. And I was savoring every second of anticipation like it was dessert.
Anne, in full peacock mode, descended the stairs wearing a blazer that probably cost more than my rent and heels that echoed authority. Her hair was styled in a sleek bun, makeup flawless, lips glossed in a red so bold it could stop traffic.
She walked into the kitchen like she was the CEO of a perfume empire and I was the lowly intern who forgot to file reports.
"Sidney."
"Yes?" I wiped my hands on my apron.
She lifted her chin, tapping her phone screen like she was bored. "Change of plans. I have to attend an urgent meeting downtown. I won't be here when Jake and his friend arrive."
My eyes widened. "Oh…"
Not sadness. No. That wasn't sadness. That was excitement. I fought to keep my lips from breaking into a grin.
Anne not being here meant I'd get Jake all to myself—without her hawk eyes or subtle interruptions or judgmental sniffs.
"I trust you to treat them well," she said, adjusting the collar of her blazer. "No… incidents."
I nodded solemnly. "Of course."
"I've already arranged everything. You'll serve them my cranberry camembert bites as starters—use the gold tray. Then the shrimp. Not too much garlic, Jake doesn't like smelling like an herb garden."
Noted.
"And wine—white for the shrimp, red for post-meal sipping. The Merlot in the wine fridge, not the one on the shelf. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said with the straightest face I could manage.
She finally looked up from her phone and narrowed her eyes. "What are you so happy about?"
Busted.
"Just… excited to do a good job," I said quickly.
She stared for a moment longer, suspicious, then exhaled. "Call me if anything goes wrong."
She left ten minutes later in a cloud of floral perfume and attitude.
And I? I practically danced back into the kitchen.
With Anne gone, the house felt lighter. Freer. I could breathe. I turned on the stereo and let music drift through the house—jazz, smooth and seductive. I twirled around the kitchen like it was a ballroom and I was preparing for a royal banquet.
I triple-checked everything—shrimp, wine, side dishes, desserts. I even folded the napkins into little rose shapes, just in case they noticed.
Then came the moment of truth.
Getting dressed.
I peeled off my flour-dusted clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water melt my nerves. I scrubbed until my skin glowed, exfoliated, shaved, and moisturized with almond oil. Then, I stood before the closet and considered my options.
I chose the red dress.
Tight at the waist, soft velvet, sleeveless with a plunging neckline that flirted without begging. I paired it with gold hoops, a delicate necklace, and sheer gloss. Just a hint of blush and mascara to make my eyes pop.
When I stepped in front of the mirror, I almost didn't recognize myself.
I looked… beautiful.
Not in a rich-girl way. Not in an Anne kind of way. But in the kind of way that said: I am here. I am enough. And I might steal your heart if you blink.
My heart thumped with anticipation.
I lit two candles in the dining area—not too dramatic, just enough to say I care. I dimmed the lights, fluffed the throw pillows, checked the oven.
Everything was ready.
And then I waited.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.
Every car that slowed outside sent me scrambling to the window like a desperate house cat.
Then…
A knock.
I froze.
This was it.
I smoothed my dress, checked my reflection in the hallway mirror, and swayed toward the door like I was in slow motion. Heart racing. Hands tingling.
I placed one hand on the doorknob, exhaled, and opened it with the sultriest smile I could summon.
"Hi—"
The smile died halfway out of my throat.
It wasn't Jake.
It was the gardener.
Javier.
Middle-aged, tanned from sun, holding a rake in one hand and a puzzled expression on his face.
"Uh… hey, Sidney," he said, his eyes briefly hovering on my dress before snapping back to my face. "You okay?"
I blinked, feeling my soul wither just a little.
"Oh. Hi, Javier. I… uh…"
He gestured awkwardly toward the backyard. "Anne said I should fix the rose beds today. I came to check if you need anything before I start."
I stared at him, obviously disappointed.
I swallowed my disappointment and forced a polite smile. "Nope. All good. Thank you."
"Alright," he said, nodding slowly. "You look nice, by the way. Got plans?"
I nearly laughed. It came out more like a scoff.
"Just… work," I said, and closed the door gently before collapsing against it.
I let out a long, dramatic sigh that probably shook the windows.
My seductive confidence melted like ice cream on a summer sidewalk. I stared down at my dress, suddenly feeling like I was wearing a costume for a role I didn't belong in.
"Get a grip," I whispered to myself. "He'll be here."
I went to the mirror and fixed my lip gloss.