Feeling satisfied in a completely new way, I turn over onto my back and look up at the sky.
And would you look at that. Here in the heart of the place that nearly broke me, I finally see a sky full of stars.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Madison
46 DAYS UNTIL I FAIL . . .
I’m sitting in a coffee shop, drumming my nails on the table. I haven’t blinked in five minutes. I’m afraid if I do I’ll miss Zora’s arrival and be caught off guard. I need all of my guard intact when meeting my hero.
Josie told me roughly fifteen times not to stress today, but what does she know?! She knows Zora the mom, not Chef Brookes. I don’t even know what I’m hoping to gain from this. Maybe I’m afraid to hope for too much. But I think I’ll know it when I feel it.
I hold my breath as the door opens, sunlight beaming in and splitting my hungover headache wide open again—and a white lady steps in, toddler in tow. Not Zora.
I glance at the clock on my phone, thinking it must be past our meeting time and she’s standing me up. But no. It’s been two minutes since I last checked. For once, I’m just super early. How do people do this? It’s excruciating.
Normally, I’d still be on my way—hopping down the sidewalk, shoving on a shoe, holding a tube of lipstick between my teeth. I’ddo my hair on the train while scarfing down a granola bar. And that’s how I know I’ve changed, at least a little. This matters to me. So even though I only got a few rocky hours of sleep on a roof last night and woke up to a bird landing on my feet, I still got my ass up, showered, dressed, and grabbed a breakfast sandwich with James before catching the train to the Lower East Side.
And now I’m sitting here like an overeager toddler, bouncing my leg and rehearsing my opening line again and again:Chef Brookes, hi! I’m Madison Walker. It’s such an honor to meet you, and I’m so grateful for this time you’re taking to talk with me.It’s honest. Professional. The opposite of messy.
I glance down at my phone, check my emails just in case she canceled—and that’s when a voice says my name.
When I look up, my eyes lock on the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Zora Brookes.
Shit.She caught me off guard.
“Hi! Zora—” I stand, fumbling with the chair behind me. “I mean . . . Chef Brookes!”
Zora is tall and lean, her frame graceful but strong with powerful shoulders and a striking bone structure that makes it hard to look away. I see Josie in her amber eyes, but her features are unique—her nose is different, her complexion deeper, her presence quieter but somehow more commanding. Her hair, like Josie’s, is a crown of curls. Zora’s coils are even tighter, styled into a shoulder-length Afro with a blue silk scarf tied neatly as a headband. Chunky gold earrings catch the light as she moves. She wears billowy black palazzo pants, a black tube top, and an open, flowing cream linen button-down.
Standing in front of her, I’m completely intimidated. In awe.
Instead of preying on my timidity like so many professional chefs have, Zora glows with a smile and tugs me in for a hug. “Madison! It’s so good to meet you.”
Her hug is brief but effective—a squeeze that wrings out any lingering awkwardness.
“Did you already get something to drink?” she asks as she releases me.
“I did, yes.”
“Great! I’ll just be a minute.” She orders at the counter. It’s clear the baristas know her—they laugh about something—and in no time, Zora is back at the table.
She sets down her iced latte with a huge, settling sigh. “There. I’ve been running all morning. It’s good to sit down.”
“Oh. I’m sorry if I disturbed your day!”
“Not at all. But I appreciate you meeting me here. I spent the morning at a farmers market buying some incredible produce and needed to drop it off at the restaurant before I came this way. It’s right across the street.”
That explains how the staff here seems to know her. But what strikes me is how they not only know her but like her. Chef Davis had a reputation that followed him everywhere. Most chefs do, actually.
“So,” she says, laying her forearms on the table. “How long are you in New York?”
“I got in yesterday and leave tonight.”
“Wow. Quick trip! What brought you in?”
