Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Cameron makes a face, lips drawn down in a yikes expression.
Producer laughs.
PRODUCER
Perfect. So, what do you think that was all about? Just high tensions after an imperfect dinner service?
Cameron smirks.
CAMERON
Oh, aye…
Cameron winks at camera.
CAMERON
I’m sure that’s all it was.
My father made me train for a marathon once.
I was not a runner, but Dad was, and he insisted running was a lesson in persistence and determination for everyone. It wasn’t something that was negotiable, when he told me I was going to run that marathon with him. It was an order. My father wasn’t a military man, but his father was — and that dominance was a trait my grandpa passed down, apparently.
I hated every second of training, every mile I ran and every ounce of pain my body went through in the process. But when the day came, I was surprised by the overwhelming emotion that surged through me when I hit the halfway point. I was elated. Then, I was sure I’d never finish. I pushed through the discomfort and the agony, and though I fell into a heap of bones once I crossed that finish line, I felt the most intense pride I’d ever experienced in my life.
I’d done it. I’d finished something when it felt impossible — even when my body wanted to quit, when my mind convinced me I couldn’t do it.
I remember my father standing over me with a hand to help me stand, and once I was upright, he’d squeezed my shoulder and said, “Remember this feeling. Bottle it up and take a sip when you need a reminder that you can do hard things, Ember. You can achieve anything. And nothing worth having is easy to get.”
I reached for that feeling now as I checked in with Bernard one last time before turning in for the night. He assured me he could handle cleaning up and encouraged me to go get some sleep. He’d have a little later report time in the morning whereas I’d need to get up early to help Leah serve breakfast.
The perfectionist side of me wanted to stay up and make sure Bernard did everything right. We’d already royally fucked up dinner service — I needed everything else to run smoothly. But I had to trust him. That was part of being a leader, and I knew it was the hardest part for me.
Delegating meant things wouldn’t get done the way I would do them, and that was never easy for me to accept.
Still, I was just tired enough to accept that I couldn’t do it all. I dragged myself down the stairs to the crew quarters, rubbing my temples against the headache that had been throbbing for the last hour.
You can do hard things. This is nothing. The pain will pass. The fatigue is temporary.
I gave myself the best pep talk I could, but when I landed in the crew mess and found Finn waiting there for me, I sighed.
I knew he was waiting for me. There was no other reason for him to still be awake. The galley was clean, the dishes done, and he had to be up before I did to get breakfast going. But instead, he was leaned against one of the tables, arms folded, eyes on me.
“What?” I clipped. I wanted so badly to rip my mic off, but knew I couldn’t until I was climbing into bed. It was part of the contract we’d signed.
Every word was up for public consumption.
Currently, there were no camera operators in the mess. But there were still cameras in every corner of the room. I did my best to ignore them, though I was cringing inside knowing every moment of the disaster of a dinner tonight would be broadcast.
My father wouldn’t be disappointed in me — not yet. He always loved when I faced adversity, said it made me tougher.
It would be how I handled this failure that he would judge. It would be what I did next.
Finn exhaled, a long, slow breath through his nose. His arms stayed crossed, muscles tight under his chef’s jacket. He seemed as exhausted as I felt, his hair disheveled and skin dark beneath his eyes. Even with his beard neatly trimmed, he looked wrecked from this hellish day.
“I wanted to apologize.”
I blinked.
That was not what I’d been expecting.
“Oh?”
He nodded, pushing off the table and taking a step toward me. “I know dinner service was a mess. And I know you were under a lot of pressure. I didn’t make it easier on you.” His voice was softer, laced with surrender rather than the accusation it had held earlier.
The tension in my shoulders loosened, just a fraction. An apology was the last thing I thought I’d get from Finn, but hearing it now, I felt the sting of the night ease just a little.