The late morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows, soft and golden, as Raine sat with a half-eaten piece of toast in one hand and an envelope in the other. It had arrived tucked beneath the door earlier, the same elegant gold trim and pristine paper that marked it as coming from the Grand Arcelia Hotel.
Curious, she broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter.
Miss Raine Callahan,
We are sincerely grateful for your previous culinary assessment. Your insightful critique has helped refine our menu more than any professional panel ever could.
We invite you once again for an exclusive food-tasting experience, featuring the debut creations of our newest executive chef. The event will be private and tailored to your presence. You may bring a guest.
With appreciation,— Grand Arcelia Management
Raine tilted her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. A private tasting? Tailored to her? She blinked and re-read the lines, still unsure how she'd become the center of a five-star hotel's attention.
She looked around. Her parents were busy in the province. Her coworkers? She didn't feel close enough. And truthfully, there was only one person whose presence had grown familiar, comforting, even strangely… important.
She stepped outside to the small garden.
"Jeff?" she called.
Tristan—mid-water spray on the basil pot—turned around, startled. He'd swapped his usual worn-out tee for a cleaner one, but still stuck to the humble, unassuming gardener look. There was soil on his hands, dew on his forearms, and the faintest hint of a blush rising at the sound of her voice.
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?" Raine said, stepping closer, waving the invitation like a flag.
He blinked. "Sure."
"So... The hotel sent another invitation. A food tasting. It's private this time." She paused. "And it says I can bring someone."
She didn't need to say more. Tristan's heart stuttered. He tried to keep his tone casual. "You… want me to come with you?"
"Well, yeah," Raine replied with a sheepish grin. "You're the only one I'm comfortable eating weird tiny bites of food with and judging it."
Tristan chuckled softly, trying to play it cool even as his ears turned pink. "Then I'd be honored."
Raine smiled, bright and sincere, and wandered back inside.
Once she was gone, Tristan wiped his hands and immediately pulled out his phone.
—
"Nick," he said the moment the line connected.
"Oh great, what now, boss?" came Nick's ever-casual voice.
"I'm attending the second food tasting at the Arcelia," Tristan said. "But not as the boss."
Nick paused. "As in…?"
"As Jeff," Tristan said firmly. "Everyone in the hotel—chefs, waiters, managers—they're not to call me sir, Mr. Vaughn, or anything that remotely gives me away."
"Let me get this straight," Nick said, clearly enjoying this. "You want me to inform an entire five-star hotel staff to treat their CEO like a casual nobody gardener because he's got a date with a girl who still thinks he's Jeff?"
"Yes," Tristan said, deadpan.
Nick wheezed with laughter. "This is the best timeline."
"Nick."
"Alright, alright, I'll do it," Nick said, still laughing. "But you owe me. Big time."
Tristan paused, and then grinned to himself. "Actually… since you're feeling helpful, I'll go ahead and assign you to that overseas branch inspection next week."
The line went quiet.
"What?"
"Shanghai. Four days. Maybe seven. Depending on what they need."
"You little—"
Tristan hung up.
—
Later that night, as Tristan adjusted the collar of a simple white dress shirt in his room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Not the CEO. Not the underworld enforcer. Not the man with scars on his back and enemies in every country.
Just Jeff.
A maybe-gardener. A maybe-friend. A maybe... something more.
He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as he wondered what kind of food Raine would try next—and if, this time, he could sit beside her not as the ghost of his other life… but just as the man she chose to invite.