Priya picks up on the second ring.
Oh goody! Time to forget Mr. Famous.
I take a deep breath and pretend to be thrilled with life. “You’ll never guess what’s happened!” I tighten my shoulder grip on my mobile (why didn’t I get a damn headset already?) and awkwardly slice a clove of garlic. “I got a call from a producer at ABN’s Weekend Edition. They want to come down to Paradise Bay to do a piece on Carib-Asian food!”
“Are you serious, Emma? That’shuge!” Priya answers, and I can hear the sounds of pots clanging in the background.
“Right? Now for the big question. Did you, by any chance, have anything to do with this? Because I can’t for the life of me figure out how they would have heard of me.” I crack open another clove of garlic with the side of my knife.
“Pinky swear I had nothing to do with it,” she answers before she takes the phone away from her mouth and I hear her say, “That’s not clean. Look at the bottom.”
“So hard to find good help these days,” I say under my breath.
“Preach, sister,” she answers quietly. “But back to your big television appearance. Could Will have tipped them off? His show is on that network, isn’t it?”
“I already asked. He said he had nothing to do with it.”
“I suppose it’s possible they just heard about you by chance. Most of your guestsdocome from this part of the world.”
“Yeah, maybe. I just have this feeling someone gave things a push...”
“Are you thinking that a tall, dark, and well-read someone had a hand in this?” she asks.
“No,” I scoff. “We’ve had no contact for months. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember my name. Besides, he’s in full-on publicity mode at the moment for the book. He’s even letting the cameras into his luxury flat for some sort of ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Fabulous’ thing. Not that I’m stalking him. I just happened to catch a promo for it on the telly the other day.”
“Right,” she says, sounding utterly unconvinced. “He hasn’t been in to the restaurant, by the way.”
“You don’t need to tell me that, you know. I couldn’t care less where he goes, or with whom, for that matter.”
“Sure you don’t,” Priya answers. “And you’re also not cyberstalking him every chance you get.”
“It was an ad during the news, thank you very much.”
“Since when do you watch the news?” Priya says.
“I was over at Rosy and Darnell’s for breakfast on Sunday. They had it on. I just happened to see it.”
“And I suppose you haven’t memorized the time and found a way to make sure you don’t miss the special.”
“Coy isn’t a good look on you, Priya. Why don’t you just say what you really mean?”
“Fine,” she says, firmly. “You desperately want to get back together with Pierce. You cannot stop thinking about him and you know ending things the way you did was a ginormous mistake, and you’ll likely never be truly happy again until you figure out a way to make it work with him because, as much as you wish it weren’t true, he’s your beaver.”
“What?” I ask sounding disgusted.
“Ivan and I were watching the nature channel this morning. Did you know beavers mate for life?”
“No, I wasn’t aware of that, and as cute as that analogy is, you’ve got it wrong. Pierce and I are finished. We’re not going to build a dam together and have little beaver babies—”
“They’re called kits, actually.”
Well, that’s helpful. “We’re not having any kits or kids or getting a rescue dog and matching Argyll sweaters. It’s over and that’s agood thing. Just look at all the wonderfulness coming my way since we broke up. Instead of focusing on aman, I’m doing exciting and challenging things, I’m making a name for myself, none of which I would have done if I was spending all my time rolling around in bed with somewriter.” I suddenly realize I’m talking loud enough that Daniel and David, both of whom are working on the other side of the prep station, have just heard every word. Shit. “Anyway, I should go,” I say, shifting to a very professional tone. “I have a lot to do before we start seating people.”
“Somebody heard all that?”
“Yup.”
* * *
