“What about my manager? Could she reach out to him? Or Wendy?”
Sawyer appeared to be mulling it over and finally said, “Before we found the original picture, I would’ve said no. They’re your employees, after all. If the press caught wind of it they would’ve thought you were setting up trysts with him through your staff. Now, though, you’ve got a legitimate reason to talk. Yeah, have one of them reach out to him. See where that goes. But Gina, don’t trust him.”
“I don’t trust anyone.” That was the truth. And wasn’t that a sad statement about her life?
“You can trust me.”
“Can I?” Or would he break her heart?
Besides the fact that I wasn’t looking for a relationship, our lives don’t mesh. Not even a little. His words reminded her that she couldn’t rely on him. His infatuation with her was as fleeting as her stardom had been.
“Yes. I’ll come if you want me to.”
She’d never wanted anything more. But what was the point? He couldn’t fight her battles for her and she didn’t want him to. “I’ve got this. But thank you.”
The moments stretched between them.
“Right,” he finally said. “I’m around if you need me.” He sounded disappointed or perhaps that was what she wanted to hear.
She didn’t need a savior.I can handle this myself.
Worse comes to worst, she’d lose it all and rebuild. She’d done it once; she could do it again. Gina still had her business sense and a knack for predicting trends. No one could take that away from her.
“Thanks for calling, Sawyer.” She started to tell him she missed him and stopped herself.
Our lives don’t mesh.
“Yup” was all he said and clicked off.
She lay on the couch, conjuring his blue eyes. The ones that saw right through her. No one had ever read her the way he did. No one had ever called her out on her insecurities and told her that he believed in her.
“Why do you always do that? Why do you always have to belittle what you do?”
Focus, she demanded. Right now, she needed to focus on saving her business, not on Sawyer. Though his voice alone had given her a second wind to climb back to the top of the mountain and take her rightful place as queen.
She got her laptop from her office and began to furiously take notes. There were a thousand ideas floating around in her head.
If she lost her ambassadorship with ChefAid, she’d start her own appliance company. And when she was done, she’d bury the big guys. If she lost her show, she’d make a new one. Sell it to the DIY channel. Hell, screw cable. She’d go network. Look at Rachael Ray and Martha Stewart. Both had had their own syndicated talk shows.
This was exactly what she loved. Empire building. Once again, she would prove Sadie wrong. Show her dead mother that she was the daughter Sadie had always wanted.
A star.
“To hell with you, Mother.” She ripped the throw blanket off, rolled it into a ball, and chucked it at the wall, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll show you.”
Her head continued to pound until she thought it would explode. In search of aspirin, she tore through two medicine cabinets like a wrecking ball.
“I live in a damn palace with every modern convenience. Yet, not one goddamn over-the-counter painkiller,” she muttered to herself, before finally finding a bottle of Tylenol in the kitchen.
She washed down three tablets with water and wiped the snot from her nose. Her quiet tears had turned to wracking sobs.
Before Gina knew what she was doing, she reached for a mixing bowl. Next, the eggs and milk, which Jessica delivered every week from the farmers’ market, removing the old. There was flour in the cupboard and vanilla beans from Madagascar.
She thought about Laney’s chess pie and started with her crust. Flour, butter, salt, Crisco, and ice water. Home cooks were afraid of pastry dough, but it was easy as pie. She laughed to herself and swiped her hand across her cheek to wipe away a stray tear.
With the whir of the food processor, she started to feel better. And when it was time to hand-stir the filling, she’d become so lost in the task that her sadness had diminished. There was just this: The solitude of her kitchen and the warmth and comfort of making something from her heart.
An hour later, the pie came out of the oven, looking as beautiful as Laney’s. Gina planned to bring it to work in the morning. Sustenance for the troops on a busy day. But she never got that chance.
