“So, what happened?” he asked, almost like he could see this need to get it off my chest.
I hesitated, then pulled my phone from my bag. “Last chance. You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m sure.” He took another drink from his water.
Okay. Yeah. Okay. I was gonna do this.
I took a deep breath.
“I didn’t come on this trip because I want to be here. Not that it hasn’t been…interesting. And beautiful, you know? Because it has. But, yeah, that’s not why I came. I mean, it’s not really my thing. It was my mom’s.” I was rambling but Noah didn’t seem bothered or bored yet, so I kept right on going. “She was already signed up when she broke her hip. And my mom hates wasting money. She was really upset to think that her ticket wouldn’t be used, so they—she and my sister—transferred it into my name because…they thought I needed to get away from Newport.” I paused. “They weren’t wrong.”
Noah tilted his head, one side of his mouth lifting into a half-grin. “Are the cops after you or something?” I tried not to be affected by the look in his eyes. He was just teasing me. Definitely not flirting.
I laughed. “Not that I’m aware of, no. I—” Good gravy, where to start? “When I met Leo, six years ago, I was working in a restaurant. He was hired on as head chef, and I was a line cook, but I waitressed too.”
“Did you like it?” he asked.
“I did.” I was encouraged because I didn’t hear any judgment in his question—or see any in his eyes. Just genuine interest.
“Anyway, I’d started a little YouTube channel—just for fun, you know? But after a few years at the restaurant, Leo thought we could make something of it if we worked together.”
“Were you dating already?”
“Yeah. We got serious pretty fast.” I felt my brows furrow, remembering. “Leo was—well, he still is—really charismatic and an amazing chef. Between the two of us, it kind of took off. Then two years ago, Leo signed a deal with the local TV station, and between our exposure on YouTube and the show, we kind of became, like, small-time celebrities.”
When I brought my water to my mouth, I realized my hands were shaking.
“Wow,” Noah said, his stormy eyes oddly understanding. “That’s a big deal. Isn’t it? I mean, aren’t there like, millions of YouTube people… What’s it called?”
“Content creators.” I huffed out a breath. “And yeah. I wasn’t thrilled about giving up so much creative control but…” I shrugged. “There were syndication deals in the works.”
After totally falling apart and disengaging from my professional life over the last two weeks, it felt odd to be sitting here, discussing the ashes of my career with…not a total stranger.
Not really.
“There were?” Noah prodded. “I take it those aren’t in the works anymore?”
“I mean, they might be? Just not for me. I’ve been…” What was the right word to describe what happened? I mean, technically, I had breached the contract. The legal team was supposed to send me some paperwork. Meanwhile, pretty sure I’d been terminated.
“Why?”
I winced. “Uh, it might be easier to just show you.”
Noah, understandably, looked like I’d lost him, but, I mean, there were some things you just couldn’t explain. And if a picture was worth a thousand words, well…
I pulled out my phone, tapped the screen, scrolled to the video, and before I could change my mind, I slid it across the table.
THE INCIDENT
Noah didn’t take the phone right away. He glanced up, searching my face for a beat before finally picking it up and pressing play.
I knew what he was seeing.
Leo, in his all-black uniform, perfectly pressed, the whole master-of-the-kitchen look he loved to cultivate.
And me, standing beside him, wrapped in Gran’s old apron, its faded floral print draped over the boho dress I’d thrown on that morning. The fabric was soft, loose, flowing—a contrast to the polished kitchen I’d spent months refining.
Noah adjusted the volume. “A cooking show, huh?”
