His comment struck her, making her recoil as if from a slap. She had done her best to encourage him but he never seemed to appreciate the support. “If I annoy you, maybe you should just come right out and say so.”
“You don’t annoy me.”
“I don’t know what to say to you anymore. Everything I say seems wrong.” She sighed. “Look, let’s go out tonight and just forget about everything for a while. Things have to get better. Besides, we do have something to celebrate.”
“What on earth could I possibly want to celebrate right now?”
He’d forgotten her meeting. Completely. “TheHandymenappearance. Remember? My meeting with Michael Zorn. He said he’s going to give me the store of my dreams.”
“At least someone is capable of fulfilling your dreams.”
“Don’t talk like that. I missed you at the appointment.”Liar. She’d barely thought of him and had had too much fun talking to Michael.
Trent was silent.
“I know you’d rather not appear on TV, but this could be good for both of us. A fresh start for you. This appearance could be your opportunity to stick it to the people who snubbed you.”
“It’s your soup business, Em. Not mine.”
“I realize that, but this is a chance to sell yourself on a grander scale. Think of the appearance as a job interview, an audition. You always said you were interested in those cooking shows. What if some producer sees you and decides to give you a chance? It could happen.”
“There’s a greater chance of Gordon Ramsay asking me to open a new restaurant with him. No one from the culinary world is going to be watching your little TV appearance.”
“I wish you’d stop calling my dreamslittle. It makes you sound pompous.”
“And I wish you’d stop talking about the goddamn TV show. It makes you sound selfish.”
“You’re callingmeselfish?”
Trent passed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s a bad time for me. I don’t mean half the things I say. You must know that.”
“Then don’t say them.”
“Em, I know you’ve offered to include me in your business and I appreciate it, but I’m not meant to be selling jars of soup. I’m a chef, for god’s sake. I belong in a kitchen.”
“Fine, but until you find your way back to the kitchen, it might help for you to open yourself up to new experiences. It seems all you want to do is criticize me. Sometimes I think you blame me for what happened.”
“Oh, thanks.” He didn’t deny it.
“I’ll rephrase that. Sometimes I think you forget I’ve been here for you the whole time.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? You used to be an open book, but now I have to pry information out of you, and you make me feel like an idiot for wanting to help.”
He stared at the wall over her shoulder. Was she boring him now? He used to find her engaging. Clearly now she irritated him, so much so he couldn’t even manage a response.
Emily swallowed the bitter tang of disappointment in her mouth. He still hadn’t bothered to ask about her day. When was the last time he had? She couldn’t remember. Defeated, she gave up her pursuit of a meaningful conversation. “So, about those drinks. I know I could use one.”
“I don’t want to go out with Chris. He hates me. He doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”
“That’s not true, but he’s my brother and he’s concerned.”
“He can keep his concern.”
“But you’ve made me cancel the last couple of times he’s asked.”
“God, Em. When you say it like that, it sounds as if I held a gun to your head. I didn’t tell you to cancel a thing.”
