I hummed to myself as I moved through my space. The kitchen in the Charlotte branch of the Thompson Hotel chain was quite spacious, but with so many people working in it, it could feel pretty crowded at times.

It was a working environment I’d had to grow used to, but it was one I enjoyed thoroughly.

As usual, I had my phone in one of my pockets, my earbuds in, cords under my work clothes, and I was making another of my specialties.

Working as a pastry chef wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. Working as a pastry chef at one of the best-known hotels in the country was even harder. It was pretty demanding, and there was no room for mistakes. But I’d proven myself when I was hired, and I’d become one of the top pastry chefs in the Thompson Hotels.

I was just finishing the layout for one of my cakes. Everyone else went about their own business at their own workstations, and no one bothered me as I worked.

Well, no one but my mother anyway.

The call was unexpected enough to startle me, and I glanced around to make sure no one had noticed. The calm music I was listening to was suddenly the loud song I’d set as my ringtone. I checked my phone, and sure enough, her name was right there.

She was the only person that still called me during work hours. But she was my mom, so I could hardly tell her to stop calling me, no matter how distracting it got. I hurried through the parts that couldn’t wait, before picking up the call just before it was dropped.

“What can I help you with, Mom?” I asked, not leaving out the exasperation from my voice.

“Did I distract you from work again?” It was always her first sentence when I’d answer a call.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but if I did it every time my mom asked the same question, my eyes would ache in their sockets.

“It’s fine, Mom. What did you call me for?”

I glanced at the work I’d done so far, mentally going through what I would need to do to have a perfect standing cake in front of me. After that came the slicing, then the decorating.

“Honey,” Mom said, voice turning conspiratorial, catching my attention. “You’ll never believe what happened. It’s just horrible! Mr. Thompson had a heart attack!”

I gasped, my mind now fully on my mom’s news. It was huge. It had been a while since I’d seen Mr. Thompson in person but it was hard to imagine he’d had a heart attack. He’d always seemed larger than life, even when I got to see a side of him most wouldn’t see.

“When did it happen?” I asked, keeping my voice hushed.

The last thing I needed was someone getting curious about what I was talking about. None of my coworkers knew the background I had with the Thompsons, and I didn’t want to make waves where I worked.

“I’m not sure, but it couldn’t have been that long ago. All the sons are finally coming home to see their father’s condition. If we want more information, it would have to come after that.”

Wait… what? The Thompson sons were all coming back to Charlotte?

“I’m sorry, Mom, but what did you say?” I asked slowly, wishing she would say something other than what she’d said.

“Mr. Thompson's sons are all coming back home,” she repeated carelessly, not aware of how each word dug into my heart like an ice pick. “Isn’t that wonderful, honey? I was starting to get worried about that man left in that big house with just his daughter to look after him.”

No, Mom. It’s not wonderful. It’s the exact opposite.

I thought the words but didn’t dare say them out to my mother in case she asked me why. Because that was something I couldn’t tell her. There was little of my life that I hadn't told my mom about, but this was one thing I’d thought best to keep to myself. I wanted the moment to have never happened, and I’d tried to live acting as if it hadn't.

And what did she mean about Mr. Thompson being lonely? It was a big house, sure, but it was full of servants that saw to the man’s every need.

My parents had been in that position all of my life, servants to one of the richest men in the world.

“Um, look, Mom. I need to be getting back to work, alright? I don’t want anything to burn. I’ll talk to you when I get off?”

She sighed. “Fine, honey. I’ll be waiting!”

I hung up, thinking hard about how I didn’t want to have to call her back so that she could tell me the last thing I wanted to hear all over again.

Why did they have to come back?

Not that I particularly had a thing against them all. It was just one of them that I had a problem with.

Growing up, I’d been in the Thompsons’ shadow. Both of my parents had worked for the family pretty much since before I was born. My mom, Joan, worked as a housekeeper while my dad, Ted, worked as the family butler. Through them, there were some occasions where I’d get to see Mr. Thompson, though those times were few. More recently, I’d met him after I started working at this hotel.

But even though I’d grown up in their shadow, I was growing out of it. I wasn’t just a child of the house help; I was making a name for myself with my work, my creations.

The father had been good to my parents. He wasn’t like what most TV shows made rich, successful businessmen out to be. He was pretty respectful of his staff, and he’d never said a bad word to either of my parents as far as I knew. In fact, they sang his praises.

It was Trent Thompson, the oldest son of the house, who I had a problem with. My chest was filled with dread at just the thought of him stepping back into the city, and I hadn't seen him yet.

What was I going to do?

Memories started to resurface, memories of my childhood. Memories of the crush I’d always had on Trent. They were sweet in the beginning, all young and full of curiosity. He was already quite a character back then, but my crush had only persisted, until one day he’d figured it out.

He’d laughed. I was still traumatized by that. When you’re a young girl, even when you’re shy and nervous with a boy you like, you don’t picture them laughing at your feelings like they meant nothing, but that was exactly what Trent had done to me.

Afterward, he’d even gone to talk to his father because of it. He didn’t just talk bad about me though. No. He’d tried to talk his father into letting my parents go, firing them as a punishment for me. I figured he must have thought the only reason I was after him was because of the family money.

Back then, more than because he’d laughed, that he thought that money was the extent of my interest in him had hurt me immensely. Being laughed at was humiliating, but not as painful as my love for him being dismissed as a love for his money.

It stuck with him. When I struck up a friendship with his half-sister Emily, he’d shown how much he resented it, like in his mind I was getting near her because I’d missed my chance with the first born and heir, so I was endearing myself to the sole daughter of the family who pretty much got whatever she wanted if it wasn’t too outrageous. Although, “outrageous” meant different things to the rich than it would to everybody else.

Things between Emily and me were hardly like that, though. Emily loved food, a love that I shared. It had been enough to get me through culinary school. When I’d come back as a chef, Emily couldn’t have been more delighted, and it had remained our bond.

Back when I still lived in the mansion, before I’d left for college, Emily would sneak into the staff quarters. She’d always been a curious, happy child, and everyone loved her so no one ever gave away her secret even after she was caught. It was how she and I had officially met for the first time. I taught the young, rich girl who had everything handed to her with a word or the snap of her father’s fingers how to cook in the small kitchen in my parent’s shared quarters at the mansion. After that, she’d sneak downstairs and we’d play chef. I told her one day that I would become a real chef.

I’d kept that promise, and Emily and I were still as close as ever. Even though I didn’t get to see her much because work was so demanding. But on the days I had the time, she’d show up in the hotel kitchens, and we’d make something, pretend it was like old times.

“Jessi!”

I jumped with an aborted yelp, eyes widening as my mouth fell open, and I turned to the person who’d just shouted my name and nearly stopped my heart from beating, cutting off my trip down memory lane in the process.

“Laura!” I said her name chidingly. “You didn’t have to scare me like that!”

She just rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sorry, but you’ve just been standing there staring off into space for a while, you know? Someone already did the work for the cakes.”

I looked over to where I’d left my work and frowned to realize the space had been cleared already. Yeah, I wasn’t the only pastry chef there, but usually people didn’t just come and hijack my work. I needed it, dammit! I needed to have something there to keep me busy, to stop me from thinking, and to help me put off talking to my mom for as long as possible.

My eyes narrowed at Laura. She was a colleague of mine, though she didn’t work in the same area I did.

“What did you even call me for?”

“I just wanted to let you know that we’re pretty much done for the day. There are other people that will be dealing with setting the food up for clients. The pastry chefs can go home.”

What? No!

I didn’t yell out like I wanted to, but it was a close call.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else for me to do?” I asked, and I was sure I sounded a little desperate, but I didn’t care. “I could start up on the menu for tomorrow, at least make some dough and put it in the fridge so I won’t have to start from scratch tomorrow…”

“You already did that,” she said impatiently, frowning. “Don’t you remember?”

Ah. “I’d just forgotten,” I said sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

Laura rolled her eyes, but there was a trace of worry around them even as she frowned at me.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” she asked.

I bit down on my lip, indecisive. On the one hand, having someone to vent to would be wonderful. I’d done it back when I was a student and things got hard, and it had helped. On the other hand, this was something so private I worried about just blurting it out. Laura and I were friends as well as colleagues but she didn’t know everything there was to know about me. There might be the relief of someone else knowing, but…

Even if she were a friend, I’d have to relive the humiliation to tell her all about it. That was something I was not willing to put myself through, even to get this huge secret off my chest.

“Nothing, really,” I murmured, my eyes sliding away from hers because I didn’t like lying to her. “I’m just thinking a little too much, that’s all. You don’t need to worry.”

She watched me for a while in silence. I knew she knew I was lying, but as long as she wouldn’t call me out on it, I was going to ignore it.

“Whatever you say,” she said dismissively after what felt like a whole minute. “But you should probably go and see to whatever that call was. It’s obviously something important. You’re not acting like yourself. I’ve never seen you just stop in the middle when you’re baking.”

I took a deep breath then released it slowly, sending her a grateful look for not prying, even as I dreaded what I was going to walk into in a little while.

“You’re right,” I muttered. “Absolutely. It was… something important.”

It was the last thing I wanted, but I started undoing my uniform.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she shouted at me as I walked towards the employee area.

I was too distracted by my thoughts and worries for a verbal reply, but I waved at her over my shoulder.

A side door in the kitchen led into the staff area. I moved over to my locker and switched my chef’s uniform for my overcoat before picking up my purse. Then I made my way out of the hotel using the staff entrance and exit.

I might as well go help my mom out because I knew she might need to prepare for the return of the prodigal sons.

I just need to keep my feelings about Trent to myself, I thought, hoping it was possible. Hell, I might not see him at all… I’m busy, and he probably would be as well…

I was just trying to placate myself. No matter how busy we both were, I was close friends with Emily, and my parents still worked at the family mansion. That he and I would run into each other was very likely.

My mind jumped back into the past, and I remembered his laughter. The bitter heartache of it—just the memory of it—made my cheeks burn, even now when I was an adult and I knew my worth. I wasn’t the same insecure teenage girl with her first crush; I was a grown woman with a career who’d set a path for herself.

I can't forget the past, I thought to myself with a sigh. I doubted I ever would, no matter how many years passed. And seeing Trent in the flesh for the first time in years would just make it all the harder for me.

Then there was a hopeful thought.

I’ve grown since then, so he must have as well, right? Maybe he’d grown past the smarmy teenager that laughed when I declared my love for him and wiped his kiss away.

A girl could dream, couldn’t she?