Romance Impossible(37)

It had been completely out of line, the way I'd talked to Chef Dylan. On paper, at least. But I didn't really feel sorry. I knew it wouldn't really make a difference, but I felt like someone should have said it a long time ago.#p#分页标题#e#

He called me into his office as soon as I got there. That was no surprise. But this time, he spent even longer staring at his desk, gathering his words, than usual.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I said, after I couldn't stand the silence anymore. "I was out of line and I apologize."

Chef Dylan considered this for a while. "Jill, do you think we're going to be able to make this work?" he asked, finally.

Wait - was he going to fire me after all? My heart plummeted into my stomach.

"I - I think so, Chef," I said. "I'm very adaptable."

He smiled, but he still wasn't looking at me. "I appreciate that," he said. "But are you only saying that because you're desperate to keep this job? Or do you really, honestly think that we can work well together?"

I bit my lip. "I don't really understand the point of that question, Chef."

He sighed. "I don't know. I like you, Jill. I want to keep you around here. I want to watch you succeed, and I want to be a part of it. But I get this sense that you don't like me, and you never will. That's not usually a problem for me, but for some reason..." Finally, finally, he looked up at me. There was a shadow under his eyes that told me he'd missed a lot of sleep. I hoped I wasn't the cause. Who was I kidding - I knew I was the cause, and deep down inside, I liked it.

"...for some reason," he continued, at last, "this is different."

What the hell could I possibly say to that?

"Chef, I appreciate your concern, and I know I haven't quite been myself lately. You've seen my resume. You know I've been out of work for a while, and I think I just need to get back into the swing of things. I know that's a poor excuse, but it's true. I'm not screwing up because I dislike you."

I'm screwing up because I like you. Way, way too much. Almost as much as I hate you.

"Objectively, I'm a bastard," he said. "But some people appreciate it more than others. I think you'll always resent me, Jill. Am I wrong?"

I caught myself chewing on my lip again. "Since you're asking," I said, "it's not just the way you treat people. That's the tip of the iceberg."

"Oh, is it?" he said, smiling humorlessly.

Ugh, why had I opened this can of worms again? What a terrible idea.

"I just appreciate people who are a little more humble," I said, fully aware of how horrifically passive-aggressive I sounded. But it was the only way to soften what I wanted to say. "That's...that's it. Really. I know that's not who you are, and it's fine."

He let out a derisive snort of laughter. "Humility's a fucking joke. You really think those people don't give themselves every bit of credit they possibly can? You think they don't pat themselves on the back when no one's looking? They know how to say what sounds good. I never had that talent. Never cared to develop it. Everybody swoons when somebody says they saw further on the shoulders of giants, but nobody's willing to admit they are a giant."

You're so full of shit.

I bit my tongue, and measured my words.

"Not everyone is like you," I said, as calmly as I could manage. "Some people happily share credit for their success."

"I've never tried to take credit for something I didn't deserve." Chef's eyes flashed. I'd finally pushed him too far; I could feel it in the air, crackling like a live wire. "I've always given back to everyone who helped me, tenfold. I've always acknowledged it. But false humility? If that's what's required to be a decent person, then I guess I never will be."#p#分页标题#e#

I didn't know what to say to that.

There was a strange noise coming from...somewhere beneath us, I thought. In the heavy silence, it seemed to grow louder and louder, almost like a train was driving through our basement. No, not a rumbling like a train - but a rushing sound -

A panicked yell echoed in the stairwell. Moments later, I heard footsteps thundering upwards, and then Aiden came bursting into the office, his eyes wider than I'd ever seen - and that was saying something, for him.

He panted incoherently for a moment, making little sounds that seemed like they wanted to be words. Finally, Dylan snapped.

"What the fuck is it?"

I could tell by the way Aiden stepped back, cowed even in the midst of his panic, that he'd never seen this side of good old Uncle Max before.

"The - the - the water," Aiden managed, finally. "Something's broken. It's all over."