“I’m worried about sustainability,” I correct. “I’ve seen what happens when you chase growth too fast. It implodes. I’d rather build slow and solid than crash and burn.”
The words hang in the air. I’m not just talking about Brave Kitchen. I’m talking about my entire influencer career. The way I chased metrics until they destroyed me. Feeding the algorithm until it burned me out.
Matteo nods. “Smart. Quality over quantity.”
“Always,” Marco agrees.
Our eyes meet again. Hold for a beat too long.
André clears his throat. “So. Modules. What are we teaching?”
I snap my attention back to my notes.
“Three core modules to start.” I pull up my outline. “Count the Bubbles is about observation and patience. Watching yeast activate. Seeing pizza dough rise. Noticing how things change when you pay attention.”
“I like it,” Matteo says. “So... meditative.”
“Exactly. Second module is Smell Sip Say. Engaging senses intentionally. Naming what you notice instead of justconsuming.”
Marco’s leaning back in his chair now, arms crossed. The henley pulls across his chest and I have to physically force my eyes back to my laptop.
I clear my throat. “Third module is Brave Breaths. We did some of this in the last session. You know, squeeze when the timer goes off, breathe while stirring. But I plan to more fully integrate it into the cooking so that it becomes automatic for all the kids. So we make the kitchen synonymous with calm.”
“That’s the piece that made all the difference last session,” Rahul says through the speaker. “I’m glad to see you’re expanding on it. You’re not just teaching cooking. You’re teaching emotional regulation through food.”
“Regulation wrapped in butter and flour,” I quip.
Everyone laughs. It feels good. Like maybe I actually know what I’m doing.
“What about filming?” André asks. “I know we have the no-posting policy for Family Meal nights. But what if families want to document for themselves?”
“Hard no,” I say immediately. “The whole point is presence. Cook, don’t post. If parents want memories, they can be present and make them. But cameras stay off.”
Marco nods. “Agreed. Luis will audit devices during sessions. Same protocol as before.”
“What about internal training clips?” Matteo asks. “Like the knife safety demo Marco did in the carriage house. That was useful.”
The carriage house.
My face suddenly feels really hot. As in, beads of sweat forming hot.
Images of Marco’s big, juicy cock fill my mind, and it’s all I can do to block them out.
“Okay, we can do that, but internal use only,” I manage, my voice slightly higher than normal. “No faces. No posting. Just demo footage for training purposes.”
I glance at Marco. His jaw tightens.
He remembers.
Of course he remembers.
When your entire body is screaming ‘remember that time we violated seventeen different workplace policies?’ but you have to sit here and pretend it never happened.
“Sounds good,” André says, oblivious. “I’ll make sure staff sign the updated no-record agreements.”
We move through the rest of the logistics as part of the plan to handle more parents and their kids. You know, the whole capacity planning and ingredient sourcing thing. It’s the kind of systematic approach that makes me feel capable instead of disorganized.
When the meeting wraps, everyone filters out. Matteo claps my shoulder on his way past. “This is good work, Jess. Really good.”
