ChapterTwo
I parked at Cycle Life, the bikeshop my best friend’s brother, Vann, owned. I’d stupidly worn heels today andmy feet ached as I hurried across the street toLilou,one of the hippest restaurants in the city. It was the perfect spot for anengagement party for two of my very favorite people.
Especially since Vera and Killianhad met there. Or technically, in the parking space where I’d just left my car.Basically, this area was very significant to their relationship and futurewedded bliss.
Vera and Killian had hated eachother at first. He’d been an arrogant asshole, and she’d been scared to trustanybody after her scumbag of an ex had spent years abusing her. My heartsqueezed thinking about that time. Vera was so content now. She’d found ahappily ever after that would last forever. But I couldn’t help but feelsympathy for her every time I thought about her and Derrek together.
She still wore the scars from herrelationship with him. Even if Killian was amazing and thoughtful and kind. Isometimes wondered if she would ever be completely over that time in her life. Itwas my goal to help her wholly move on. I was the biggest advocate for herhappiness.
Which was why I’d volunteered tohead up her surprise engagement party. Volunteering to oversee was not one ofmy brighter moments, but I wasn’t going to leave it in Vann’s hands. Herultra-healthy brother would have hosted it on some mountain biking trail andserved granola bars for appetizers.
Not that I was any better at foodthan him. Vera and Killian were the master chefs. I told people I loved burnttoast because I was physically incapable of making it any other way.
And that’s why I enlisted our othergood friend Wyatt to help me out with the menu. Plus, he’d somehow convincedhis scary boss to let us host the event atLilou, butonly because the cranky restaurateur, Ezra Baptiste, was also Killian’s bestfriend.
Once I’d made it to the side door ofLilou, I typed out a quick text to Wyatt.
I’mhere.
Then I paced back and forth for fiveminutes while I waited for him to open the door. My feet ached from wearing heelsall day and a headache had formed around the base of my skull. Despite my BlackSoul victory, I needed today to be over.
I thought about my earlierconversation with Emily. She loved to go out to celebrate work wins. But honestly,success stressed me out. I did not feel like the competent graphic designer Ipretended to be. There was too much pressure to do whatever it took to get thebest jobs. And then there was always that feeling of my work not stacking up tomy coworkers. I had to prove myself in every single task and I couldn’t escapethe pressure to always be interesting and innovative and unique.
I preferred to celebrate alone, witha bubble bath and bottle of wine. Or paintbrush in hand, in front of a blankcanvas. The last thing I wanted to do was go out to a crowded bar and talkabout all the ways I got lucky enough not to crash and burn. I’d much rather enjoythe excitement by bringing it to life in vibrant colors and paint-coveredportraits and artistic expression.
The side door swung open and Kayapoked her blue-haired head out. “He’s so pissed at you.”
I ignored Wyatt’s edgy sous chef andher gloating. Her favorite thing in life was pissing off Wyatt, so me showingup an hour and a half late and right in the middle of hectic dinner service wasprobably the highlight of her day.
Stepping insideLilou’skitchen was like walking into a tornado. People were everywhere, working on prepping,cooking and plating all at once. Stainless steel surfaces were covered withdishes, and perfectly executed food, and oh so sharp knives. Wyatt stood in themiddle of the flurry, tall chef hat covering his buzzed head, tattoos peekingup over the collar of his pristine chef’s jacket.
He had changed a lot in the last fewmonths. When Vera and I first met him, he’d been more relaxed, way more laidback. He would always come visit us at Vera’s food truck that used to park atCycle Life and together we’d gang up on Vera, always teasing her about Killian.
But since Killian had leftLilouto open a restaurant with Vera, Wyatt had stepped up asexecutive chef and lost his ability to chill. He was all drive, meticulous precisionand serious career mode now.
To be fair, he basically workedevery second of every day, so work mode was also life and survival mode. But Imissed my friend that liked to joke around and steal food when Vera wasn’tlooking.
“Wash your hands,” Wyatt barked atme.
I realized I was breaking a fewhealth code rules by hanging out in a kitchen I did not belong in, so I decidednot to argue with him. Or ask him to say please.
“I’m so sorry,” I said instead. “Mymeeting ran late.”
Drying my hands on a paper towel, Iturned around and faced him. He was leaned over a drool-worthy dish inspectingit closely. With one finger wrapped in a hand towel, he swiped at the edges ofthe plate, removing a rogue drop of sauce. He passed it to a stoic waitress andnodded. She grabbed the plate and disappeared into the dining room.
Wyatt turned his handsome face tome. “And? Did you get the big, life-changing job?”
I loosed a smile. “I did!”
His lips twitched with a proud smirk.“Atta girl.”
I beamed at him, thankful for hisconfidence in me. We had been talking through texts more than usual to planVera and Killian’s party.
Wyatt’s head jerked in the directionof a counter near the coolers. He was back in super serious mode again.“Everything’s cold now, but that’s what I’ve come up with so far. You’rewelcome to taste what’s there and let me know what you think Vera will likebest.”
“She’ll like whatever you make,Wyatt. She’s not picky.”
He made a sound in the back of histhroat. “I’m not going to make justwhateverfor Killian Quinn and VeraDelane. They’re beyondpicky. Their entire life’s work is based on being picky.”
