Chapter 3: So Wonderful to See You Again!
Mia's POV
I'm staring at my computer screen when I hear them. Those heels. Click, click, click.
Brittany.
"So, Mia, guess who just got a reservation at The French Laundry for this Saturday?"
I don't look up. "That's great."
She leans against my cubicle, inspecting her nails. "I know, right? My boyfriend knows someone. It's impossible to get in there. The waitlist is like three months."
She pauses. I can feel her eyes on my shirt.
"You should totally try to go sometime. Oh wait, but it's like three-fifty per person. Not including wine. That might be a bit steep for you?"
My fingers freeze on the keyboard.
"I can afford it."
"Of course you can! I didn't mean... anyway, I'd invite you but it's a couple's thing. Unless you want to bring that driver of yours?"
The way she says it. Like it's something dirty.
A coworker from the next cube speaks up. "Don't listen to her, Mia. She's just being a bitch."
Brittany rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I'm just being realistic."
She walks away. I stare at my screen, words blurring together. Seven hundred dollars for one dinner. She says it like it's seven bucks.
I have to calculate whether that money should go to Dad's company instead.
I hate this feeling. Hate that she makes me feel small.
When I get to the car at 5:45, Alex takes one look at my face and knows.
He opens the door. I throw my bag onto the seat harder than necessary.
"Bad day?"
"God, I hate her. She can just drop seven hundred bucks on dinner like it's nothing."
"The French Laundry?"
I blink. "You know it?"
"I've heard of it."
"Yeah. This insanely fancy place in Napa. Three Michelin stars. Impossible to get into. Brittany was rubbing it in my face. She even suggested I bring you, my 'driver,' like it was a joke."
His hands pause on the steering wheel for a second.
"Do you want to go?"
I laugh. It sounds bitter. "I mean, yeah, who wouldn't? But I can't afford that right now. I'm trying to save for Dad's business."
Silence. The Bay Area sunset bleeds red outside the window.
"What if I could get you a reservation?"
I whip around. "Alex, be serious. You can't just..."
"I know the owner. I can get you a table for Saturday."
"No. No, no. Please tell me you're not going to do something illegal. Or bribe someone. Because I can't..."
I lean forward, gripping the back of his seat.
"I'm just going to make a phone call."
"A phone call? Alex, you can't just 'call' The French Laundry and..."
"Watch me."
He's already pulling out his phone. The car stops at a red light. He dials.
"Thomas? It's Alex."
Muffled voice.
"Yes, been too long. Listen, I need a favor. Table for two, Saturday at seven."
Pause.
"I know you're fully booked. I'd appreciate it."
Another pause.
"Perfect. Thanks."
He hangs up.
My mouth is hanging open.
"You just... how?"
He shrugs. "I told you. I know the owner."
"Oh my God. Alex, what did you do? Did you promise him something? Are you in debt now? Please tell me you didn't sell your kidney!"
He actually laughs. Really laughs. Not a polite smile. A real one.
"Mia, I promise, I still have both kidneys."
"This isn't funny! What if you get in trouble?"
"Mia. Breathe. It's just dinner. No laws broken. No organs sold. I asked a friend for a favor."
I narrow my eyes. "You're friends with Thomas Keller? THE Thomas Keller?"
"We've met a few times."
"Where? How?"
"Through work."
"You worked at The French Laundry?!"
"Not exactly. It's complicated."
The light turns green. I slump back, brain short-circuiting.
My driver knows Thomas Keller? What the hell?
Saturday evening. The French Laundry's stone building looks elegant in the twilight. Garden lights glow softly.
I'm wearing my best dress. Dark blue. Got it on sale. I've checked the mirror three times. My palms won't stop sweating.
Alex opens my door. He's in a dark gray suit and he looks like he should be on a magazine cover.
"I'm so underdressed. Everyone else probably..."
"You look beautiful."
My face burns. I look down at my discount dress.
"You're just saying that."
"I don't say things I don't mean."
The host is a man in his fifties, perfect suit. He sees Alex and his eyes light up.
"Good evening, Mr. Ster..."
Alex's gaze cuts to him sharply. The man coughs.
"Mr. Alex. Your table is ready. This way."
I whisper, "Why is he so nervous? How much did you tip them?"
"I didn't tip them anything. Yet."
Other staff members see Alex and nod. People are whispering. I feel like everyone's watching us.
Our table is in a corner. Private. Candlelight flickers. Outside, the garden glows.
The server hands us menus. I open mine.
"This menu doesn't have prices."
"That's normal for places like this."
"But how do I know what to order? What if I accidentally get the most expensive thing?"
He puts down his menu. "Order whatever you want. Don't worry about the price."
"But you're paying me two hundred K a year. You can't afford this!"
His voice softens. "Let me worry about my finances. Tonight is about you."
This feeling of being taken care of. I'm not used to it. Except for Dad, no one's ever treated me like this.
A woman appears. The sommelier. She looks elegant.
"Mr. S... Mr. Alex, may I suggest a wine pairing? We have a 2015 vintage that would pair beautifully."
Alex nods. "That would be perfect."
After she leaves, I Google frantically. My face goes white.
"Alex! This wine costs five thousand dollars a bottle! FIVE THOUSAND!"
He sips his water. "It's a special occasion."
"What's the occasion?!"
He puts down his glass. His eyes lock onto mine.
"I'm having dinner with someone who makes me feel like myself for the first time in years."
My heart skips. I don't know where to look.
"I... you... that's..."
The main course arrives. The plate looks like art.
I take a bite and close my eyes. "Oh my God. I've never tasted anything like this."
He watches me, smiling. "I'm glad."
"You really didn't have to do this. I would've been just as happy with burgers."
"I know. That's exactly why I wanted to."
"What do you mean?"
"Most people here only care about appearances. Being seen at the right places. But you? You'd genuinely prefer a twelve-dollar burger if it meant saving money for your father. That's rare."
"Is it? I just think family comes first."
Something deepens in his eyes. "It is. And you have no idea how refreshing that is."
We hold eye contact. My heart pounds. His eyes look like they have stars in the candlelight.
"You know what's funny? Brittany and those women think I don't belong because I didn't grow up with money. But I don't want to belong if it means becoming like them. Cold. Calculating. Caring more about a designer bag than about people."
"Then don't. Be exactly who you are."
I smile bitterly. "Easy for you to say."
"No. It's not. Being yourself when the world tells you you're not enough? That takes courage."
We're walking toward the exit when a man in chef whites appears. Thomas Keller.
"Alexander! So wonderful to see you again!"
Alex's body stiffens. Thomas clearly hasn't realized.
"How is Sterling Tech doing? I read about..."
Alex coughs lightly. Thomas's eyes flash with panic.
"I mean, Alex. Good to see you, Alex. Hope you enjoyed the meal!"
I smile at him. "Mr. Keller! Thank you so much! The food was incredible!"
He looks relieved. "I'm so glad, Miss..."
"Parker. Mia Parker."
He glances at Alex. "Well, Miss Parker, any friend of Alex's is always welcome."
In the parking lot, the Napa night sky is full of stars. Alex doesn't open the back door. He opens the passenger side.
"I can sit in the back..."
"Sit with me."
I get in. The front seat feels different. More intimate.
For ten minutes, neither of us speaks. I steal glances at his profile.
"Thank you for tonight. It was magical. I don't know how you did it, but thank you."
The car stops at a red light. Alex turns to me.
"Mia."
"Yeah?"
"Would it be unprofessional if I said I'm enjoying working for you more than any job I've ever had?"
My breath catches. "Would it be unprofessional if I said I'm starting to think of you as more than just my driver?"
His hand moves from the steering wheel. It covers mine. Warm. Firm. Electricity spreads from where we're touching.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
I don't pull away. My fingers grip his gently.
The light turns green. Alex drives with one hand. The other stays holding mine. Outside, San Francisco's lights get closer. My heartbeat is louder than the engine.
This feeling. Like standing on a cliff edge, half terrified, half thrilled.
