The second he stepped through the door, my stomach flipped.
Colin.
The same guy who’d shattered my life just days before, now strutting into the restaurant like it was his stage. And naturally, right beside him was her—his new fling, clinging to him like a prize he didn’t earn.
If I hadn’t just been kicked out of my apartment—our apartment—after catching the two of them together, I might’ve found it hilarious. If I hadn’t spent the last two nights on my best friend’s couch wondering how to start over. If this hadn’t been my first shift at a job I desperately needed. But it was.
And yet there they were. Front and center.
I adjusted my apron and forced myself to breathe. I needed this job more than I needed revenge—at least, that’s what I told myself.
But when I walked up to their table, Colin made it clear exactly why he’d come.
“Well, would you look at that,” he said, smirking. “Didn’t expect to be waited on by my ex. Hope the service is better than the relationship.”
His new girl—Riley? Reagan? Whatever—folded her arms. “We’re starving. Don’t mess this up too, sweetheart.”
I kept my voice steady. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Colin chuckled. “Wow. You take orders so well now.”
I clenched my notepad so hard I thought it might snap. But I turned and walked to the kitchen.
Inside, I poured their drinks with shaking hands. Marco, the head chef, caught my expression immediately.
“You good?” he asked, wiping his hands.
I hesitated, then told him everything. “Table five. My ex. Brought the woman he cheated with. I think they’re here to mess with me.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed. “They giving you trouble?”
I nodded. “But I can’t afford to lose this job.”
Marco set his knife down and looked at me. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
When I came back out to deliver their drinks, the girlfriend sneered. “This glass is smudged.”
Colin grinned. “Still can’t do anything right.”
They ordered the most expensive things on the menu—clearly trying to rattle me.
I brought their order back to Marco, who only smirked. “Time for the chef’s special treatment,” he said.
And that’s when I saw it: the jar of his infamous chili blend. Normally reserved for regulars who asked for serious heat.
This time? It went on everything.
The bread? Dusted.
The butter? Infused.
The pasta? Supercharged.
Even dessert? Oh yeah—spiced.
And the water? Marco added just enough chili oil to set their mouths tingling.
“Won’t they notice?” I asked.
Marco winked. “They’ll notice. But not until it’s too late.”
I served the food with my most pleasant customer-service smile.
Colin took the first bite of steak. For a second, he looked smug.
Then he froze. Blinked. Swallowed hard. Coughed.
Riley, clueless, dug into her pasta. “What’s wrong?”
Colin grabbed his water, chugged it—and then gagged. “What is in this?”
Riley reached for the bread—gagged too.
A woman at the next table called out, “Try the dessert! Maybe it’ll cool things off!”
Desperate, Riley took a bite.
She screamed.
Colin was bright red, eyes watering, chugging his drink like his life depended on it.
He waved me over. “What the hell is in this food?!”
I smiled sweetly. “Everything today’s made with extra care by our chef. A little heat… a little passion.”
They didn’t wait. They grabbed their things and rushed out, gasping for air.
Marco leaned out of the kitchen and watched them go. “Think they’ll leave a Yelp review?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “They can barely breathe. I think we’re safe.”
The whole restaurant clapped. Apparently, everyone had been watching. And for the first time in days, I felt like me again.
When we closed up that night, Marco clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You held your own,” he said.
I grinned. “We made a great team.”
“Always,” he said. “No one disrespects one of ours.”
Colin had walked in hoping to humiliate me.
Instead, he left coughing, crying, and with a mouthful of spice he’ll never forget.
And me?
I walked out smiling.
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