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Fitting In
Jane
I had a hard time falling asleep last night. It was my first evening here that wasn’t spent alone in my wing, and it was perfect. Simple, yet exactly what I needed. I finally peeked beneath the surface, and I feel like I’m really starting to get to know Colton.
I muffle another yawn.
“Am I boring you zat much?” Agnes snaps. “Monsieur Green said to let you be more involved in making ze decisions, but if you can’t even listen to me for five minutes . . .”
I snap my head toward her. “He said that?”
“He texted zis morning, yes.”
I smile to myself. I thought he’d forgotten. “Good. And yes, I will take care of things. I’m just really tired since I went to bed pretty late last night. Colton and I talked until two a.m.”
She straightens in her chair. “Didn’t Monsieur Green ‘ave a business dinner last night?”
“It got canceled, but it’s okay. I made French toast.”
She arches an eyebrow. “For dinner.”
“Uh-huh. It was fun. We paired it with champagne and played Monopoly.”
Her body goes even more rigid. She’s probably in shock because of the impropriety of it all. “Well, I’ll let you ‘ave a look at ze different bands I found,” she says, getting up. “I ‘ave some laundry to do.”
“Okay,” I say, relieved that she’s letting me do this by myself. “Thank you.”
A few hours later, I’ve chosen a band, and I spent hours online browsing Pinterest boards to find a decoration style I like. I’m not entirely set on my choice, but I made progress. After that, I braced myself and finally drove one of Colton’s cars—the Range Rover—to go to see Marlene for a touch-up prior to an open call. The resumes I submitted these past few weeks didn’t yield anything, so I thought I’d try my luck today. Unfortunately, my number was never called.
Finally, it’s dinner time, and I find myself bubbling with anticipation. I’m eager to see Colton again, and I feel like a dog waiting for her master to come home. The way I phrased that just gave me major creepy vibes, especially since he’s technically my employer and all that. Actually, friend. I think we could become friends, which would make this entire arrangement a lot more comfortable.
“Hey,” I say, spotting Colton at the kitchen table. He’s wearing a suit, as always—dark gray tonight. “Don’t you ever wear regular clothes when you’re at home?” I ask, sitting down across from him.
“Hi, Jane,” he says, barely looking at me. “These are regular clothes. It’s comfortable.”
I’m taken aback by his cold demeanor. After last night, I thought something changed.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“I’m fine. And you?” he asks, finally meeting my eyes. His gaze isn’t as cold as his tone. It’s more indifferent.
“Yes.” I nod. “Fine.”
Except I’m not, and everything about this exchange is weird. But I don’t know how to talk to him when he’s like this. He was a completely different person last night. Maybe it was the champagne or the French toast. Or both? I have to consider getting him on an alcohol and sugar diet so I can actually have conversations with him.
Agnes clears her throat as she brings the dish to the table. A subtle saline smell hits my nostrils, and my eyes widen in horror.
“There’s fish in there.”
Agnes stops serving him mid-air. “Oh my. You’re right. Ze mussels. I’m sorry. I completely forgot, it’s such a small part of paella.”
And then I see it. The malice in Agnes’s eyes. No, she didn’t “forget.” She was taking a stab at me. Any doubts I had about her not liking me vanish. This woman despises me.
I plaster a smile on my face. I know better than to waste my time fighting Colton’s longtime head of staff. “It’s okay. I’ll just eat something else.”
“I’m sorry, Jane,” Colton says, concern flashing in his eyes. “Do you want to order out? Or maybe Agnes could fix you something else,” he says as he casts her a pleading glance.
“I’d be happy to. I’m really sorry,” she says falsely.
