“Yes,” I shrug, making him chuckle. “Come on. I want to show you something amazing. At least, I hope it’ll be amazing.”
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, we're in the kitchen of the Japanese restaurant, having snuck into the buffet to get some of the ingredients we need so I can test out the culinary concepts I've been working on for the past several months. The sounds of Andrea Bocelli play quietly in the background as Pierce watches me work from a stool on the other side of the stainless-steel island. Having him here makes me chop faster, dice with more precision, and sprinkle herbs with more flare than I ever have before. I want to impress him like he has impressed me. I want to make a meal he will never forget, even when he’s ninety-eight and can no longer remember the names of his characters or how Lucaemor came to his end (a hatchet to the head, in case you were wondering).
Anyway, back to the food. I want him to be able to smell this meal and taste it in his mind. I want him to know he was here with me.
Turning the flame up to high, I drizzle olive oil into the centre of a carbon-steel skillet, then slide the minced garlic off of the cutting board and into the oil with the side of my knife. The garlic sizzles, filling the air with the first of many aromas to come before we eat. I quickly stir as I glance back at Pierce. “Bored yet?” I ask.
“Riveted actually,” he says, with a smile. “I could happily sit here and watch you cook all day.”
“Full disclosure? I’m really nervous to cook like this for you.”
“But you’ve already made so many meals for me. Is it because I’m watching you?”
“No, it’s because I’m making something totally new. Something I’ve only dreamed about but never tried.”
“Really?”
I nod. “I call it Carib-Asian food—it’s Caribbean with an Asian twist. It could be god-awful,” I say, tossing the prawns in the pan. “Or, it could be the next best thing.”
“I’m guessing the latter of the two.”
Taking a deep breath, I grin at him for a second. “Either way, I’m terrified to let you try it.”
“Now you know how I’ve felt these past few weeks with you bearing witness to the most vulnerable creative moments of my life.”
An hour later, as the sun comes up, I clear the island, wipe it off, then set the feast in front of Pierce.
Taking two white plates down from the cupboard, I set two places, then add a dollop of sauce to each. “These are jerk pork spring rolls. The concept is to take plain spring rolls and use jerk spices, as well as a pineapple and coconut chutney to give them an island feel.” I add the next appetizer to our plates. “This is a Thai chicken satay served on a bed of alfalfa and coconut, with a mango peanut sauce.”
“Smells amazing.”
“I agree,” I say, excitement fluttering in my tummy. “Our first main will be ginger shrimp with coconut milk, calabaza squash, and a lemongrass stock served over rice noodles, and garnished with sliced avocado and chopped cilantro. Next will be chicken with rice and peas blended with annatto seeds for a slightly sweet and peppery flavour that adds an unmistakably Caribbean flowery scent to the dish.”
I stare at my creation, feeling elated in a way I haven’t in the past. This is it. I know it. This is my future. Right here on this island.
“Finally, we have lobster tail on coconut and pineapple rice with a lemongrass sauce to make it really different. Dig in,” I say, picking up a fork.
“Wait,” Pierce says, standing. “We need to document this.” He takes his mobile out of his pocket and walks over to the opposite side of the island.
I sit, hold my arms out to the side, and smile, bursting with pride and possibilities.
“Perfect,” he says. When he sits back down, he holds up his glass of white wine and says, “To your bright, shiny future.”
Laughing, I say, “God, I hope so.”
I watch him intently as he takes his first few bites, trying to gauge his reaction. He closes his eyes and moans, which is either a testament to my creation or to his own acting ability.
“Incredible, Emma,” he says. “Truly.”
Truly incredible? My entire body hums with pleasure.
“You should eat too,” he says. “You're making me a little uncomfortable with all this watching.”
“Right, sorry. Most of the fun is in seeing you enjoy it though,” I say, picking up one of the pork rolls.
“You know what's funny? As a writer, you almost never get to see anyone enjoy your work. You just hear about it after the fact, if that, even. But having you work with me was a completely new experience.”
