“Um, is this Nikki DiMarco?” It’s a shaky English accent on the other end of the phone. Not Callum’s though. My chest throbs.

“Who is this?”

“Ted, from Travaasa Hana.” He clears his throat. My face promptly bursts into flames. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

With my free hand, I cover my eyes. Like that will do much good while I’m dying of embarrassment on my end of this phone conversation. I just snapped at the general manager of the Travaasa Hana resort. Well done me.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s quite all right.” He lets out a good-natured laugh. “Things have been stressful lately, haven’t they?”

His soft tone, the obvious empathy in his voice helps dial back the embarrassment a touch. I wonder if he’s read all the crazy stuff online about Callum and me. I wonder if he’s seen the shaky video of us having it out at the festival. Last I checked, which was a few days ago, the video that @IEatEverything posted was up to nearly fifty thousand views. So yeah, he’s probably seen it.

I swallow back the urge to groan out loud.

Ted clears his throat again. “I was wondering if you were still interested in being our featured chef at the resort once a week.”

“Oh.”

Memories of the night Callum and I served a surprise three-course Easter dinner at a high-end resort on a total whim swoop through me. I blink and see Callum’s full lips stretched into a satisfied smile when we finished serving, every single diner raving about our dishes. I blink again and see his naked form in the hot tub of our room. I remember his hands on my body, his breath on my skin, his heart beating so hard, I felt it inside me.

I hear the words he spoke to me in that delicious guttural whisper.

Good would be doing this with you every day. Good would be getting you to admit when you’re jealous and want only me. Good would be calling you mine.

Given the way he shut me down at his condo the other day and how I haven’t heard from him since, he wouldn’t be interested in working with me ever again. A lump lodges in my throat. It’s a second before I can collect myself and answer Ted.

“I’m sorry, Ted. I can’t. As much as I want to, I just don’t think I can handle prepping another dinner with Callum. We had a falling out, in case you hadn’t heard.”

The awkward pause and throat clear on the other end of the line tells me he did indeed hear about it, just as I suspected.