Icould handle ninety-hour weeks like a pro. I worked in one of the moststressful, sweatiest kitchens out there, my boss was a total tyrant and I hadto consistently produce perfection to keep my position. Those things didn’tbother me. I didn’t get anxiety. I was a badass chef and comfortable in my rolein the kitchen.
Buta harmless conversation about Wyatt? Entirely based on facts? Too much for me.My palms were sweaty, and my stomach had decided to grow an ulcer. I would havecalled in sick tonight if I would have thought I’d still have a job in themorning.
Whatwas it about Wyatt that turned me into a complete mess? I was so much betterwhen he was yelling at me than dealing with the sweeter, softer, surpriseversion of him I didn’t even know existed until recently.
Steelingmy nerves, I said goodbye to my friends with promises to see Dillon very soonand Vera as soon as my parents headed back to Hamilton. Then I went to work.Because that was what I did. No matter what happened with Wyatt or my personallife, work was my center, my cure. I would throw myself into it tonight andforget everything else. And at the end of the night, I’d slip out before Wyattcould get me alone and trick me into more of his delicious kisses.
Ormaybe I’d stick around for them. As long as he swore on his kitchen knives thathe wouldn’t tell anyone this time.
Chapter Sixteen
Holyshit! I caught sight of my reflection in the small mirror above thehand-washing sink and held back a laugh.
Myshort hair shot out from behind my damp bandana every which way, frizzy loosecurls, frizzier and curlier now that I’d been working almost fifteen hours. Mymascara had smudged beneath my lower lashes and my cheeks were rosy fromrunning around like a chicken with its head cut off for the last several hours.
Iundid the top three buttons of my jacket, hoping to cool down a little. Thekitchen was extra hot tonight. And we were extra busy.
Therewere rumors that Lilou, and by default Wyatt, was up for another James Beardaward. There was talk that Ezra had entered the two of them into severalcategories, like he always did in October. The results would be announced soon,like they always were in May, which meant judging was well underway.
Ofcourse, there was no way to know if that rumor was true or what awards we hadto strive our best to receive because Ezra wasn’t here to ask. Besides, hewouldn’t tell us anyway. We had gone through this every year while Killian wasin charge. I thought Ezra would give us a couple years to calibrate to newleadership, but apparently, he didn’t want to waste time making Wyatt a chef tocontend with.
Ihad expected the rumors to wind Wyatt up, make kitchen life intolerable.Instead, he was in rare form. Completely unaffected by the pressure and operatingas efficiently and effectively as possible. At a speed that I quite frankly didn’teven know existed.
Therewas something oddly more relaxed about him, but at the same time hisperfectionism had reached a whole new level of demand. I’d gotten throughtonight with only one redo, but I’d been stressed out the whole evening makingsure every single element of my dishes were without reproach.
Ishould hate him all over again for what he’d put me through tonight. But thesewere the aspects about his personality I respected. These were the things Iappreciated about him. I had only known head chefs to be totally, intolerablyobsessive about their kitchens.
Fromcleanliness, to the quality of ingredients they cooked with, to the level offinesse at which their dishes left the kitchen, most chefs at this level werecontrol freaks times one thousand. And I gave every single one of them grace.
Theirname was on the line. Their reputation at risk. They weren’t selling food tohungry diners, they were creating an evening that was memorialized by smellsand touch and taste. They were developing moments of excellence that wouldfollow these people to the end of their lives. They were facilitatingexperiences that would change and mark people.
Thinkback to your favorite meal. It wasn’t only the food. The memoryencapuslatedthe people you were with, the ambiance, theaesthetic of the food, the drinks you ordered, the smile on your server’s face,the temperature of the restaurant, the smell, the lighting… every single aspectplayed a part in creating the most perfect dining experience of your life.
Andwhile the back of house might not have a say in décor and dimness, wecontrolled the main event of the evening. Wyatt, like Killian before him,wanted every single customer to leave tonight declaring that they had eaten thebest meal of their entire lives—the meal every other piece of food would becompared to for all of eternity.
Icould get on board with that.
Oneday, I would run my own kitchen and the same would be true about me. My staffwould mumble, “That persnickety bitch,” under their breath and I would smileand pat them on the head, because a meticulous shrew was exactly what I wouldhave to be.
Dillonsidled up to me, wrapping her arm around my waist in a quick side hug. She’dalready stripped off her chef’s coat and we’d only been closed for fiveminutes.
“Hey,I’m taking off,” she said, clearly rushed to get out the door.
“Already?”
“Mollyand Ezra asked me to pick them up from the airport,” she explained.
Iglanced at a nearby clock. It was just after eleven. My heart sank for tworeasons. One, that Ezra was back. And two, that Dillon was abandoning me toclose without her.
Still,I was a good friend, so I asked, “Do you need me to shut down your station?”
Shegrinned at me, backing up toward the side entrance. “Wyatt already volunteeredyou. I think his exact words were, ‘Kaya will do it for you. She loves to cleanup your shit.’”
Myeyes bugged. “That asshole.”
Winkingat me, she put her hand on the door.
“Can’tthey get an Uber?” I called after her, but she was already racing to her car.
