Alivia
We did it. We got it. It’s everything we want, and it’s perfect.
Me
I can’t wait to see your plans come to fruition.
Alivia
Our plans. REMEMBERthat.
“Shit, I’d better watch my back, or this one’s going to take over my position,” Keith said, nodding toward tonight’s line cook.
Who just happened to be my girl.
Since Keith’s eyes weren’t on me, I could watch Alivia. Every time I glanced in her direction, where she was prepping on the other side of the kitchen, I was blown the fuck away.
She had discussed the available position with me first before she went to Rachel to apply. Rachel had then asked my opinion. She didn’t know Alivia and I were in a relationship or living together—no one did. In her eyes and mine, Alivia was treated like any other employee.
With my consent, Rachel interviewed her, I did too, and we had Alivia complete an in-kitchen test.
No surprise, Alivia had fucking crushed it.
Now, every shift was preparing her for the business she was soon going to open.
“I think you’re right,” I said over my shoulder to Keith, where he stood at the gas range. Even though Alivia had no intentions of staying here long enough to be awarded a role similar to his, I didn’t want to let on that I knew her plans. “I bet she makes better scallops than you.”
“There’s no question in my mind.” Keith laughed.
And as I continued to eye the woman I was so fucking in love with, there was no question in my mind that she could handle the lead chef role at Alivia’s.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Alivia
Leslie turned her head, looking at me while I sat next to her in the living room of her small apartment, the two leather chairs side by side with a tiny table in between. I imagined, several years ago, when her husband had still been alive, this was his seat. Across from us, aside from the TV, was a wall decorated in framed photos that spanned years of her family’s life. And scattered throughout those pictures were hand-sized canvases of art. Paintings she’d done of different sceneries, weather, and nature. Not a single one had a cabin on it.
“Nothing feels the same anymore.” She reached her hand across the table, missing the miniature lamp, but stretching over the doily and knitted coaster. “I miss seeing you at meal time.”
I missed her, too, and many of the other residents I’d served almost every day for years.
I squeezed her cold, fragile fingers. “But I’m so happy I’m here. With you.”
“You told me you’d come to visit. But, you know, I wasn’tsure. It’s not that I doubted you. It’s just that things change. People move on. Life makes you busy.” Her thumb was sliding across the back of my palm. “Sometimes, those promises are forgotten when other promises become more important.”
“You’ll never be forgotten.” There was a knot in the back of my throat, and it was tightening. It didn’t matter; I had to tell her this. I had to get the words out even if, once I said them, there wouldn’t be anything left. “During my time here, you were my family, and you probably didn’t even know it. That’s why I stayed and why I worked so much. I wanted to be here, in my real home, not the one I was living in.”
Her thumb stilled. “But look where you are now, a place that’s so beautiful.”
I didn’t know if she was talking about Walker’s house—a mansion I hadn’t described to her, just that I was now living there. I didn’t know if she was talking about my employment and the things happening in the future. She, along with some other residents, knew about my full-time position at Charred and my plans of opening Alivia’s.
But it didn’t matter what she was referencing.
It was all beautiful.
“It is,” I agreed.
“I can see how happy you are. You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in my door.” Every time she grinned, her dark lipstick would bleed into the lines around her mouth.
