“It’s one thing when they come froma critic,” Killian went on. “But it’s physically painful when it comes from aregular, or someone who doesn’t know you at all. Then you know it wasn’t asmall technicality or minuscule mistake. Then you know you just suck.”
I smiled, it was small and barelythere, but I felt a chink in my pissed-off armor. “I thought you came in hereto make me feel better.”
His tone turned teasing. “You’re soyoung,Delane. So very young. And so very naïve.”
“Stop with all the compliments.Seriously, my ego is like—” I made an explosion sound, mimicking the motionwith both hands.
He turned, propping his hip againstthe counter. “How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?”
“Gross, stop.”
His lips twitched again. “What I’mtrying to say is that I’m older than you. Wiser. I’ve been doing this for a lotlonger than you, and I can honestly say they all sting. Every last one of them.There’s no way to get around the pain. There’s no way to ignore the feeling ofincompetence. You just have to ride it out and show up anyway.”
I knew he was right. I’d been herebefore. It wasn’t like this was my first bad night. Or even close.
But this was the first shitty nightthat was mine completely. I wasn’t working for someone else. A different chefdidn’t have their name on the final project or banner. This was mine.Completely. And I’d screwed up.
“Name them,” he demanded.
I raised my gaze to find his. I’dbeen perfectly happy staring at his beard, but now I needed his eyes, thestrength that was always present there… the courage. “Name what?”
“Name your fears. Your insecurities.Name the truth you heard in the complaint, the thing that’s got you so wrappedup you’re ready to quit.”
Logic started to dawn in myotherwise dark night of pity. I realized he was right. My fears had become aroadblock inside my chest, a tangle of lies and fears and uncertainties. Iopened my mouth to say them out loud, but I couldn’t get them out of my mouth.They stayed lodged in my throat, an inconvenient lump growing into a jaggedboulder.
“My chicken was tasteless.”
His eyes widened, revealing his surprise.He hadn’t thought I could do it. “You forgot salt. Didn’t you?”
I hated him just a tiny bit more forteasing me. Hated him and liked him. “I didn’t forget it,” I growled. “I just…ugh, I just didn’t use enough. And my waffles were too doughy. I overcookedhalf of them tonight trying to manage everything.”
He grinned at me. “What else?”
“I don’t think I can do this. It’stoo much. Too hard. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never even been in chargeof my own kitchen. I don’t know why I thought I could run my own goddamnbusiness.” I slapped my hand over my mouth, surprised that I’d said so much.
Surprised that I felt so much.
Killian had lost his smile, hisamusement. Those green eyes glittered brightly above the darkness of his beard,seeing more of me than I ever wanted to show him. “Now do you realize howabsurd those thoughts are? You had a bad night. So what? You learned something.You pushed yourself to your limit and found out what you’re capable of. Whatworks. What doesn’t work. And now you can go on with your life. You won’t makethis dish. You won’t ever use that antiquated piece of shit waffle iron again.”He did a double take, his eyes widening at the sight of it covered in driedbatter, rusted near the rubber feet. “Good lord, what is that thing?” He nudgedthe chipped handle with the tip of his finger as if he was afraid it would givehim some kind of disease. “And you’ll remember the fucking flavor. Yeah?”
I nodded even while I said, “I hateyou almost as much as I hate salt.”
His lips twitched with an almostsmile. “You don’t hate salt.” He stepped closer. “And you really don’t hateme.”
“I do too,” I insisted. But it wasan unconvincing whisper. And a dirty lie.
He ignored me. “You don’t have toworry about doing this,Delane. Youaredoing it. We’ll rework the menu andtomorrow will be a better day.”
“Does that always work?”
“What?”
“Naming it like that, callingyourself on your own crap. Is that all it takes to move on?”
The hint of something played overhis features. Regret maybe? Disappointment? It was hard to say, but whatever itwas made me feel cold all over again inside. I knew the answer before hevocalized it.
“No, it doesn’t. But when thistherapeutic bullshit fails, we do what we do best.”
“And that is?”
