“It’s not fair,” Ihiccupped uselessly in the car. Which, of course, it wasn’t. But what aridiculous thing to say. Especially in light of everything that had happened.Especially acknowledging all that did not happen, all that I avoided by runningaway.
Rationally, I knewthat it could have been worse. I realized that Henry had held back. He hadn’tphysically assaulted me. He hadn’t raped me. He hadn’t hurt me. But that didn’tmake his actions more right or less wrong. He still had behaved in the worstpossible way. There were just certain things I needed to be grateful for.
I sniffled, blindlygrabbing for a tissue from my purse. Wiping my eyes, I tried to decide on mynext plan of action, but I couldn’t make sense of my thoughts.
I had likely justlost my job. Henry had his dad’s ear. He was set to take over in the nextcouple years. He was future CEO, and my boss, and an integral part ofSixTwentySix. I was nobody. And before Black Soul, theproject Henry had given me, I had worked on the lowest of all the projects.
It was his wordagainst mine.
Which meant Ibetter update my resume.
And even if Ididn’t get fired for this, did I really want to go back? What if Henry didn’ttake over his dad’s job? What if he only stayed on as an employee? It was nolonger a place I could see a future at or even contemplate finishing out theweek.
I pulled into theparking lot without knowing where I was heading. I couldn’t rememberconsciously deciding to drive here.
The wall of ivy wasblooming vibrantly green, and the tree in the courtyard had budded with daintywhite flowers. The building looked bewitching framed by the golden, settingsun. Bianca was the safe haven I needed.
I didn’t overthinkmy choice to find Ezra. I didn’t even think far enough ahead to worry if hewould be here or not. I just needed him to tell me everything was okay wheneverything felt decidedly not okay. I needed his calm stability to sooth thefiery nerves exploding beneath my skin. I needed his strong arms wrapped aroundme, reminding me that there were good, decent men in this world.
And beyond what I wasn’t able to think through andrationalize, I just needed him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I bypassed thehostess, the floor manager, an army of waiters, and headed straight intoBianca’s kitchen. Unlike atLilouwhere Ezra’s officewas separate from the main kitchen, in Bianca, his workplace was tucked in theback of the expansive kitchen area.
The kitchen wasabuzz with activity as cooks hurried around in their professional attire—toquesbobbing between stations. Another difference betweenLilouand Bianca was the way service ran. AtLilou, withWyatt in charge, everything flowed directly from him. Maybe it wasn’t alwayssmooth or easy-going, but Wyatt was the source and the kitchen moved in a kindof synchronized chaos around him. Like the mouth of a mighty river.
Bianca wasn’t asteady-pathed stream. Or even a turbulent current. At least not tonight. Shewas the ocean in the middle of a hurricane. Chefs were shouting demands backand forth at each other, cursing furiously. The air was tight with tension andpanic. Dishes clanked on messy surfaces and orders were bellowed from one sideof the room to the other. I related in a way I never thought I would.
Several of thekitchen and wait staff paused in their frantic activity to watch me as Islinked along the edges, trying not to draw attention. Too late.
“I’m just here forEzra,” I muttered, doubting any of them heard me anyway.
I had only beenback here once and it was not during dinner service. It was on one of theSaturday mornings I had painted. Ezra had given me a little tour and then we’dmade out in the cooler.
There hadn’t beenanyone here then. The kitchen had seemed huge and empty and void of life. Nowit was the opposite. Crammed with people running in every direction, the spaceno longer appeared big enough to accommodate all of Ezra’s staff. It was allmadness and mayhem and delicious food, and I loved it.
I loved every partof it.
Any other day Iwould have grabbed my phone and taken video of the flurry of activity to postonline. I would have captioned it #workvibesandwatched social media go crazy over the interesting aspects of how a five-starplate of food is made.
Not that itmattered now. My future at STS looked grim. Instead of one-minute videos andinteresting hashtags, I was going to be busking portraits on a busy streetcorner instead.Excuse me, ma’am, can Iinterest you in a caricature? I promise to make your boobs and head lookginormous.
That was my lifenow, a big-boob drawing chalk artist. #lifegoals.
Thankfully, Ezrawas in his office when I finally scuttled back there. Nerves assaulted myalready weak heart as I realized I should have texted or called first, or atleast let him meet me out front. He wasn’t expecting me. He probably wasn’tready to see me…
“Molly.” He lookedup at me from behind his desk, his tie tugged loose and his fingers poised on akeyboard mid-email. His mouth split open in a warm smile and I exhaled a breathI hadn’t realized I had been holding. “I was just sending a note to ask if youwanted to do dinner.”
Seeing him there,behind his desk, tired from a long day but happy to see me, did somethingpermanent to my shaky spirit. My chin trembled and I pressed my lips togetherin a valiant effort to hold back hot tears.
He noticed myemotional state, pushed back in his chair and leaped to standing. “Are youokay?”
I shook my head,unable to speak for fear of sobbing again.
“Come here,” hedemanded.
This time I didn’thave a single problem doing what he asked. I threw my body into his and let hisarms tighten around me, holding me to him. I didn’t wail, sob, or scream like Ithought I would, but I couldn’t help the few rogue tears that slipped out.
