Love at Second Sight

Chapter 9

Jealousy is love and hate at the same time. 

~Drake

***

Goddamn! It had been two weeks and four days since that meeting on Saturday, meaning he hadn't seen her since. Plus, she'd broken her promise of staying in the second Sunday, because she'd worked in the kitchen that day too. And, there were still four days left for this week's Sunday to arrive. Four days until he hoped he could see her again, if she kept her promise of not working on Sundays. But, nothing could be said, because, first, she was her own boss, and second, she wasn't working for him as Zac, she was working for him as the owner of Magna. So, whatever Zac wanted wasn't on her radar, only what Magna's owner and the host of the gala wanted was.

He gulped whatever was left of the juice on that frustrated note. He wanted to see her, spend time with her as Zac, not as the heir to the Sifton chain of hotels. What he felt for her was personal, not professional, though she'd want otherwise.

"Good morning, Zac," his mom greeted him as she walked down the corridor.

"Morning, mom." He pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Up early?"

"Mm-hm. Your dad started snoring so loudly I woke up, couldn't sleep at all after that," she sighed, and he chuckled. "Don't laugh."

"Okay. Sorry." He kissed her again.

"So what juice was it today?"

"Watermelon."

"Oh, that's nice. She's wonderful, isn't she? After she got you to eat your lunches regularly, I've been meaning to thank her, but she isn't seen at all these days. When was the last time you saw her?"

"Eighteen days ago."

"Hmm. I see. Someone is counting days."

"Who is?" he asked, pretending to be clueless.

He washed the glass and kept it back in its place, a smile gracing his lips the whole time. She'd been keeping juices or shakes for him to drink after workout every morning since that first Saturday she'd made him avocado shake. The next day, he remembered, Sunday, he'd found a Post-it stuck on his door when he was leaving for workout that said: 

I've kept orange juice for you in the
refrigerator, drink it after workout.
— Savannah. 

On Monday it said: 

Today it's lemon juice. Was getting late, 
couldn't make a fruit shake. I will tomorrow.
— Savannah. 

She continued on pasting notes like those—which he was scrupulously collecting—until Thursday, after which it became their routine.

"Are you coming home for lunch?"

"I guess not. I'll eat at Le Saveurs itself. There's a lot of work today." He'd been eating his lunches—either at Magna or at home—religiously after Savannah had called him out on his unhealthy eating habits the other day. Saturday.

"I see. And, have you gotten lucky yet?"

"Mom!"

"What? Oh, no, no. Not in the sexual way. I mean, did your efforts of eating at Le Saveurs pay off yet?"

"Huh?"

"Good God, Zac. Did you meet Savannah yet?"

He coughed. "What?"