His Twenty-Four House Rules Only Trapped Me

I looked at Irvin. He looked away from me.

"A delay's not a bad thing. Everyone needs to cool down."

I nodded.

"Fine."

They all froze. They must have expected me to cry, to argue, to beg him not to postpone it.

Instead I took out my phone and, right in front of all of them, deleted the wedding countdown.

Irvin frowned.

"Kayla, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Cooling down," I said. "That's the one thing I'm good at."

On the morning Marie's tearoom opened, Phyllis knocked on my door at four.

I'd worked late at the hotel the night before, gotten home close to one, and had barely fallen asleep.

She was holding an apron.

"Get up. Go help Marie."

I glanced at my phone. Four-oh-six.

"I have a morning meeting at eight."

"Irvin already called in for you."

That woke me all the way up.

"Who told him to call in for me?"

Irvin came down the hall.

"Marie's opening today, she's short-staffed. You run banquets. You're steadier than the part-timers she hired."

I looked at him.

"So my job doesn't matter."

He sighed.

"It's half a day. Don't make it into such a big deal."

Phyllis sneered.

"Aren't you waiting on people at that hotel too? You wait on people somewhere else for a day, what's the difference?"

The words landed like a slap.

At the hotel I was a banquet supervisor. However tired I got, there was a paycheck, a chance at promotion, people who called me Supervisor Swanson.

In the Weiss house, all I was good for was being the help.

The tearoom's back kitchen was small, and the pastry chef hadn't shown up.

I worked from before dawn until ten in the morning.

Out front, Irvin took the flower baskets for Marie as they arrived.

A customer teased her.

"Ms. James, your boyfriend's so attentive."

Marie didn't deny it, just ducked her head and smiled. Irvin didn't explain either.

The knife in my hand stalled, and the blade nicked my fingertip open.

The part-time girl jumped.

"Hey, your hand's bleeding."

Before I could say anything, Marie came in.

She glanced at my hand.

"Kayla, do me a favor and take this pot of hot syrup out first, the customers are waiting."

The syrup had just come to a boil, and the pot was filled to the brim.

"Split it up," I said. "It'll spill like this."

She smiled.

"No time."

I lifted the pot and headed out. Just as I reached the doorway, Marie suddenly turned back.

Her shoulder slammed into my elbow, and the whole pot of scalding syrup tipped over.

It poured from my forearm down to the back of my hand.

The pain blacked out my vision. Marie screamed.

"Irvin!"

Irvin was the first one through the door.

He saw the syrup on the floor, then saw Marie standing there, white-faced.

"Did you get burned?"

He was asking her.

Marie's tears came fast.

"I didn't, but Kayla got burned, I think. It's all my fault—"

A customer couldn't watch anymore.

"This girl's hand is bright red. Get it under water, quick."

Only then did Irvin look at me.

His face changed, and he crossed the room in a few steps and grabbed my wrist.

"How did you burn it this badly?"

He pulled me to the faucet.

When the cold water hit, I was shaking all over from the pain.

"Hospital," he said.

In that moment, I'll admit I wavered again, because the worry on his face didn't look fake.

He wrapped his jacket around me and drove me there himself.

Halfway there, Marie called.

I don't know what she said, but Irvin's face changed.

"The client's arriving now?"

He glanced at me.

"I'll be right back."

I turned my head slowly.

He pulled the car over to the side of the road. Up ahead was a neighborhood clinic.