The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

stress he was under now, and the shock that came along with having your dream idea green-lighted over lunch. We got our drinks and headed to the back of the bar where there was a fireplace and comfy couches.

“Tell me everything,” I said as I plopped down on one of the sofas. “Like, where’s the gym gonna be? Did they talk about a location?”

“They’ve already got one,” he said as he sat down next to me.

“Oh my god! Where?”

He hesitated. And in that moment, I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. He couldn’t make eye contact with me.

“It’s in Los Angeles, Red.”

The brick walls of the back room seemed to close in on me. I was hoping that what he’d just said didn’t mean what I thought it meant.

“Wait. The gym is going to be in L.A., but you’ll still be here in New York, right?”

He shook his head. “They want us to move to California.”

“You and Nick?”

“Of course, me and Nick. But when I said ‘us,’ I meant me and you.”

I sat my drink down on the coffee table and buried my face in my hands. I could not have formed a cohesive thought at that moment if you’d offered me a million dollars to do so. The Waiter scooted over closer and put his arms around my waist, his head resting gently on my back.

“I know I have absolutely no right to do this,” he said, “but I love you and I’m doing it anyway. I’m moving to California, Red. And I’m asking you to come with me.”

CHAPTER 33

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It was the first time I’d ever been inside Madison Square Garden. It was packed. And loud. If I weren’t still in shock from yesterday’s news, I would have found it very exciting. Plus, I’d been up since five this morning and was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Josh’s boss at Ernst & Young had reserved the company’s luxury suite for the New York Rangers’ game, but was unable to attend at the last minute. He gave the tickets to Josh, who, of course, invited all of us. The suite was stocked with plenty of gourmet food and thankfully, plenty of top-shelf alcohol.

“You can’t leave New York,” Katie said. “You just got here.” She, Lucy and I were sitting on a leather sofa in the back of the suite while Josh, Kyle and The Waiter sat up front, completely engrossed in the game.

“You don’t have to leave,” Lucy said, taking a sip of her martini. “You’ll just be bi-coastal. Being bi-coastal is the ultimate dream of every New Yorker.”

“Does this mean you consider me a New Yorker now?”

“Girl, you were a New Yorker the night you walked into the Bubble Lounge in that Ralph Lauren dress.”

“I don’t wanna leave,” I said. “But I don’t want him to leave either. Everything was just starting to fall into place. I’m madly in love, I just landed my dream job, and Dalton’s leaving New York soon. Why the fuck did this have to happen now?”

“Wait, Dalton’s leaving?” Katie asked.

“His assignment is up at the end of March. At least, that’s what he said in the card.”

“Is he going back to Atlanta?”

“I don’t know. I guess so. Or wherever his next gig is.”

“What else did the card say?”

“The usual bullshit. That he was sorry. That he wasn’t seeing Rhonda anymore. He missed me. Blah, blah, blah.”

“I’m glad he’s leaving New York,” Katie said.

“Me too.”

“And when is he leaving?” Lucy asked, referring to The Waiter.

“Don’t know yet. Sometime next month, I think.”

I looked over at him. He and Josh were in deep conversation. I assumed they were talking about the California deal. That fucking deal that was taking him thousands of miles away from me. Of course I was happy for him. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But so was my new role as Editor-in-Chief.

“Sam,” Lucy said, putting her hand on my knee reassuringly. “I know you love him, but under no circumstances should you consider quitting your job.”

“I agree,” Katie said. “I mean, I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to move to California. You have to be here to help me plan the wedding.”

“He will not be in L.A. forever,” Lucy said. “Just do the long-distance relationship thing. You’ll make it work.”

“That’s what Dana said,” I replied. I’d gone into the office early this morning because I wanted to get a jumpstart on all my new responsibilities. I called Dana as soon as I got there.

“First off, you can’t quit your job,” she said.

“I don’t want to quit my job. I love it here. But I love him, too.”

“I know you do. And if he loves you the same way, he’ll understand. You guys will just have to make it work.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Sam, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

I immediately started crying. She had just articulated my greatest fear. If I didn’t move to California, I’d probably end up losing him. But I was already losing. I’d come into work early for a specific reason and yet here I sat, crying and unable to focus on anything but The Waiter. This is not how I wanted to spend my first day as Editor-in-Chief.

“I’m crying, Dana,” I said. “At work. I’m sitting at my desk at six o’clock in the morning crying. See? I told you when I was crying on New Year’s Eve that I’d be doing that all year long.”

“Those were happy tears, Sam. These are not.”

“Well, apparently the universe can’t distinguish between the two.”

“Okay, you need to calm down and focus. Throw yourself into your work and trust that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. And trust me, Sam, it will.”

“God, I wished you lived here.”

“Find me a dream job up there and I’ll move tomorrow. Now, get your shit together and call me later.”

After Dana’s pep talk, I did manage to get my shit together before anyone else showed up at the office. I downed my Starbucks Venti White Chocolate Mocha and