Free The Fragile Line: Part One (The Fine Line #2) by Alicia Kobishop

yes,” she pleaded.  “If I don’t get someone to take over my tables before I go, I might get fired.  And I really need this job.” 
    I was already swamped and had customers waiting longer than they should’ve been for their meals.  Part of me was irritated with her because being a single mom with a four-year-old seemed to always be her excuse for getting out of work early or not coming into work at the last-minute.  Part of me wondered if she was even telling the truth. 
    The other part of me knew I could use the extra tips, and if she her son really did have that high of a fever, he needed to get some medical attention.
    “Yeah, absolutely.  What do you need?”
    “Oh, thank God.  Thank you, Chloe! I owe you one.”
    This wasn’t the first time I had covered for her.  She owed me many.
    “I need to get these plates out, Lauren.  What tables do you need covered?  Tell me quick.”
    “Okay, table four got their food about ten minutes ago.  You might want to check up on them soon because I haven’t had a chance to yet.  VIP room three is the proposal.  I just finished clearing their plates.  He’s going to propose after you bring out the dessert menu.”  She handed me a menu that looked nothing like the Luciano’s dessert menu or any other menu that we have here in the restaurant. 
    “What’s this?”  I grabbed it and read the title on the cover. 
     
    Lifetime of Happiness
    Menu
     
    I opened it to find a list of “menu items” like love, commitment, and communication along with paragraphs that I would assume describe how each item fits into their relationship.  It was an interesting concept, but I didn’t have time to read through it. 
    “Cute.”  I closed it up, stuck it in my waiter pouch, and continued placing dinner plates on the serving tray.  “So, I’m supposed to act like this is a dessert menu?” 
    “Yep.  He’ll excuse himself when you get there so that she can read it alone.  You give her the menu to read and leave her to read it.  Then he’ll come back and propose a few minutes later when he knows she’s read it all.” 
    “Got it,” I said, lifting the serving tray and placing it on my shoulder.
    “Thanks, Chloe,” she said, as I pushed open the kitchen door.
    I nodded, “No problem.  Just take care of your kid.”
    After serving table eighteen and checking on table four, I headed to VIP room three.  Our VIP rooms were the best in town, offering riverside views out of floor-to-ceiling windows, private music selections, and instead of just being in a separate area of a larger space, they were actual intimate rooms that could be closed off to the rest of the restaurant just by shutting the door. 
    I knocked three times, then waited five “Mississippis” before entering.  I learned the hard way that when you don’t wait a few extra seconds, you may barge into something intimate, hence embarrassing everyone involved, which in-turn leaves me with a shitty tip.  
    I’ve had my fair share of uncomfortable moments in these VIP rooms, and I’ve seen everything from make-out sessions to full-on sexual interactions.  I thought I had seen it all.  But nothing prepared me for what I walked into tonight. 
    I saw him first.  Before her.  Baby blue eyes gaped at me from the table as I entered the room, shock registering in them as I came to an immediate halt at the sight of his exquisite face.  His sandy blond hair was the same medium length I remembered.  In fact, nothing about him had changed.
    She turned around to face me.  She’d dyed her hair.  It used to be blond like mine.  Now dark cherry red, it contrasted her porcelain skin perfectly, bringing out her beauty even more than I remembered.
    “Chloe,” she whispered, turning whiter than she already was.
    Nobody said anything else, but I was sure they could hear my heart hammering its way out of my rib cage, providing the beat for the Frank Sinatra tune that flowed out of the room’s