That’s right. La Mère was strict about their lesson plans. The chefs took time off from their busy schedules to come in and show techniques and explain certain methods. Students were expected to return to the dorms to practice afterward. It was pretty cool to have an industrial kitchen in the dorms. But also it seemed a little counterintuitive to justwatchyour professors do things instead of doing them and having them give feedback.
‘Did Dad like going to La Mère?’ I asked. I had always assumed he did. He talked about it enough when he was showing me what he learned.
My mom tilted her head as if she was trying to figure out why I’d ask. But instead of asking me, she said, ‘I think so. He never said otherwise, and I know how sad he was to leave. He also said he felt guilty because he took someone else’s spot, then couldn’t finish.’
‘But he said he wanted to go back, right? If he had the chance, he’d try to finish.’
My mom nodded. ‘I mean, not specifically La Mère. We talked about him doing some night classes at the community college to get his associate’s. But he was worried if he spent more of his free time in school and less with us, he wouldn’t like cooking as much. I think he just enjoyed cooking with you and seeing how excited you got when you were both in there baking or making dinner together.’
I’d liked that, too. Making pizza from scratch on Saturdays, starting with the dough in the morning – even though in the winter the dough took a little longer to rise because of the cold, which meant we might not eat until nine at night. ‘We’re eating like the Spanish tonight!’ he used to say when our recipes ran late.
My dad also never seemed daunted by anything. He loved trying new foods, and if the recipe didn’t work, he’d try it again. I looked at the stitching of my dad’s name once more, rubbing my fingers across it. My mom finding this now – years after my dad’s death – felt even more like the universe telling me I was doing everything right. That this was how the plan was supposed to go. But how did the choice between the New York and LA campuses play into the universe’s plan?
‘Let me ask you a question,’ I said. ‘Did Dad ever talk about going to another campus other than the New York one?’
‘Nope. Why?’
I shrugged. ‘Just curious. What about you? Would you be sad if I went to the LA campus?’
Her face answered before she did. She looked as though I had just told her I had an incurable, deadly disease. She probably realized that and adjusted it to a more neutral one and then swallowed before answering. ‘If … that’s what you wanted to do. I would be sad, sure, but only because I’d miss you. A six-hour flight is a little more difficult than a two-hour drive. Is there a reason you want to go there instead?’
Definitely not the cute boy who just reentered my life. ‘I’m not saying Iwantto. Just trying to figure out which campus I should apply for.’
‘Well, I vote New York, but it’s for entirely selfish reasons. If there’s someone out in LA you want to learn from instead and you think it will be better for you, I fully support that.’ I could tell when she was trying to just be a supportive mom, though. She definitely didn’t want me going that far.
And I wasn’t even sure ifIwanted to go. Why was I even still considering this? Because of Gabe. Because everything that was happening – Gabe coming back into my life just in time to help me with a video that I was struggling with, his ‘complicated’ relationship with his boyfriend, Natalie requiring me to train Gabe as part of my letter requirement, Gabe deciding between two schools that happened to be in the same cities as the school I wanted to attend, my mom finding this coat – it all felt like I was reading the universe’s secret recipe. Like the path was ahead of me; I just had to follow it.
‘What’s wrong?’ my mom asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘Doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like you’re noodling.’
I smiled at her. ‘I’m trying to figure out what recipe I want to bake first to try to make a mess of this coat.’
She snorted as I handed it off to her. ‘Whatever it is, that shouldn’t be an issue.’
Yes, I was absolutely a sloppy baker. But I think that just meant I was good at it.
When I got to Gabe’s, the lights were already on in the apartment above the garage. I took the stairs two at a time and opened it to find a screen saver on the TV – a school of fish in the ocean – but Gabe and the dogs were nowhere to be found. I went back down the stairs, thinking about going to the front door and knocking, but I didn’t want him to get into trouble if he wasn’t supposed to have strange boys over to his house. Especially not in the apartment outside the house, where his parents couldn’t keep an eye on him.
Not thatwewere going to be doing anything as long as things were still ‘complicated’ with Vic. But they didn’t know that. Also, it sounded like they didn’t even know about Vic.
I went back to my car and sent Gabe a quick text telling him I was here and asking if I should wait in the apartment.
His car wasn’t in the driveway like it normally was. I was parked on the opposite side of the garage – where he told me to – but there were a few other cars in the little asphalt roundabout that I hadn’t seen before.
Including a white Cadillac that looked chillingly like Natalie’s. I laughed to myself and went over to it to take a picture. My plan was to send it to Ava with the message:This isat Gabe’s house. Do you think he and Natalie are an item, too?!
‘Thomas?’
I turned to see Natalie on Gabe’s side porch. Watching me hold my phone up to her car. Oh my God, I was hallucinating.
I blinked a few times, but the hallucination wasn’t going away. Natalie was still there, wearing not her normal workday suit, but a T-shirt and jeans. Like a human and not a poison tree frog in a pantsuit.
‘Natalie? What are you doing here?’
She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at me. ‘Seeing my family. What areyoudoing here?’
