Travis didn’t need to spend the night last night. He won’t have to spend the night with me at all anymore. Which means our hookup arrangement is over, right? Which means I should probably stop daydreaming about his dick and his ass and his mouth, because we’ve taken that off the menu.

Sure, I might still get to kiss him if we need to be together in front of Elise and Grant again before they go home. But after what I’ve experienced with him, a kiss is not going to be enough to sustain me. And I don’t even want to think about what happens when they leave and the entire ruse is over.

What am I saying? I mean, yes, of course I want them to leave. That will mean my life can finally go back to normal. It’s just that after knowing how content I feel when Travis puts his arm around me, pretending to be my boyfriend, my normal life doesn’t have the same appeal as it did before.

Oh fuck, I’ve really done a number on myself here, haven’t I?

But how was I supposed to know that being with Travis Reed for a couple weeks—even if it was all for show—would shake up my foundation so much that I’m not sure things will settle properly in his absence?

The chatter of more guests filtering into the lobby behind me reminds me that I’m at work and this is no place for a breakdown. So I veer quickly toward the kitchen for some coffee and make sure to put on a smile, because Addison can sense weakness.

She’s at one of the prep tables, and as soon as she sees me, she says, “The new help I hired start tomorrow.”

It takes me a beat to process her words, due to just giving myself emotional whiplash a few seconds ago. “Okay.”

“Is that a problem?” she snaps, making me freeze on my way to the coffee machine. “You said I have authority in hiring kitchen staff, didn’t you?”

“Uh.” I gape at her, desperately wishing I had coffee in my hand. “Yeah, you do. That’s totally fine. Good. It’s good, I mean. That you hired people. You need the help.”

She levels me with a glare that almost sends me cowering into the corner. “Are you saying I can’t handle running this kitchen myself? That I’m not talented enough to keep the guests happy?”

“What? No! It’s just that you needed—Well, you shouldn’t have to—”

Jesus, what kind of minefield did I step in here?