James humors me by appearing shocked, even though he doesn’t know who she is.
Honestly, this whole adventure came on so quickly I haven’t had a lot of time to consider if it will be important or not. Josie’s text completely surprised me last week. Turns out, she was serious about FaceTiming to catch up. And a few days later she just . . . called to talk.
We chatted for an hour. Gossiped about classmates. City life. James’s job offer.
When I mentioned the Greenhouse and the vibe I hoped to create, she offered me a chance of a lifetime: a meeting withChef Zora Brookes.
I almost dropped the phone.
As everyone in the culinary world knows, Zora is a giant in the industry. A Black chef with two Michelin stars and a restaurant inNew York. Her roots go back to one of the South’s most iconic farm-to-table kitchens in North Carolina.
“She could cancel at the last minute.” I damper my exceptions. “This entire trip might end up being a complete waste. I’m not sure yet.”
“How did you get the meeting?”
“Josie, an acquaintance from culinary school, set it up. She reached out to see how I was doing, and it snowballed from there.”
“You mean afriend?” he asks, one brow lifted.
“No. Not a friend. We talked sometimes, had lunch when schedules overlapped. She only wanted to check in.”
James cuts his eyes toward me. A smile hovers at the corner of his mouth. “Madison.”
“Why are you giving me the ‘monogamy face’ again?”
“Because that’s a friend. Youhavea friend.”
“No, friends are people you spend all your time with. You tell themeverything.You’re not afraid to pee while on the phone with them.”
“Not always. And definitely not at the beginning. What you’re describing is a best friend, or . . . in your case, a sister,” he says gently. “It sounds to me like this person thought about you and wanted to know how you were doing.Friendship.”
Oh my god. I have a friend.
That had been one of my goals for living in the city that I thought I had failed to achieve.Make friends outside of my family.Something I assumed would be easy since I’ve always been social. But away from my hometown, I felt so small. Thrown off-balance. Like I had nothing to offer.
Between Chef Davis’s constant berating and Caden’s rejection after I laid my heart on the line, I feltworthlessin every way. Now that I’ve been coming back to life, I can see just how dried up myself-esteem had been. There was no one around to combat the negativity. And I was too embarrassed to share the pain with anyone back home. I carried shame that wasn’t mine. I carried the insecurities of pitiful men.
It’s like I saw New York through dark, cloudy glasses. There was joy and friendship and potential all around me, but I couldn’t see it through the hurt.
Before I can stop them, my eyes are welling up.
“Uh-oh,” James says, studying my face. “You okay?”
I blink before any drops can fall. “I didn’t realize I had a friend in New York. I’m just happy.”
His arm settles against mine—warm, steady, intentional. “Are we going to see her while we’re there?”
“Um . . . I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” I fiddle with Sammy’s lid and then peek up at James. “But I guess we could?”
“Text her before we take off,” he says, nodding down at the phone in my lap.
“Okay . . .” And I do, not allowing myself to overthink it or worry she’ll reject me.
She texts back immediately:I’d love to! Text me when you land.
I can’t tell if the plane is taking off or if I’m just feeling the high of learning I have a gal pal. Either way, I’m in the clouds.
I turn to James, our faces close and my mouth humming with memory. “Thanks for coming with me. Truthfully,” I whisper, “I didn’t want to go back to the city alone.”
