Every once in a while, she and Erik would comment on each other’s social media posts, but he’d moved out to Canada for a long-term project not long after the scandal. Zelda and Elliot had long since left New York for Seattle, but still kept in touch. After securing their latest round of funding, Zelda had agreed to be bought out to get back to what she loved: designing. From the disgustingly wholesome photos the Lawsons sent her from time to time, she could tell her former boss was much happier.
Jess had just given birth to her and Lisa’s beautiful baby girl. They named her Georgia as an ode to George, the grandfather she’d never meet in this life, but who would undoubtedly look down with love on hers. Cierra had already been back home a few times to check on her sister and sister-in-law, as well as her first niece, who she already planned on spoiling rotten.
Cierra’s new primary business, Let’s Eat, was what was keeping her busiest these days. While she had enjoyed the experience of being on set, she’d quickly realized the celebrity-chef career path wasn’t for her. She had always considered herself to be a social person, but she liked her personal life to stay private. More importantly, she realized her favorite part about cooking didn’t even have to do with the food. It was about what food could do, how it could connect people.
With Let’s Eat, she created personal dining experiences for small celebrations, like birthday gatherings or special dinnersbetween friends. It gave her a work-life balance, and with the extra money she brought in from brand deals (managed by Mia, who was now officially her Community and Social Manager), she had even implemented a sliding scale approach to pricing and raffled off a date-night per month. Which was exactly where she was heading now.
Mia had prepped her on the couple, and the story had touched Cierra, so she quickly changed into sleek black pants and a fresh button down shirt before heading out.
She took the train to Greenwich Village, turning onto one of the cobblestone streets reminiscent of a New York from long ago. The streets were peaceful, and old gas lamps gave a soft, buttery glow to the colonial-style brick houses. When she arrived at the home, she knocked and was let in by who appeared to be a butler. When the younger gentleman asked if he could remove her coat, Cierra began to think she might be in the wrong place.
“Sorry, um, I’m here to cook for the date night?”
“Yes, they’re just in the back. I’ll show you the way,” he said. He disappeared with her coat and returned quickly. “Please, follow me.”
Like many homes of that era, the living room sat just to the right of the entrance foyer, with a long hallway running through the middle of the home and a cherry wood staircase leading upstairs. But by the looks of the custom hardwood floor design and ornate carvings in the staircase banister, it was evident the owner had put a lot of investment into its renovations, keeping the home’s stylistic integrity while fitting it for the modern age. Mid-century furniture was accented by brightly colored oil paintings and arresting photography.
When they arrived in the dining room, Cierra was surprised to see the table already prepared; she even thought she had smelled dinner cooking when she had arrived, a kind of roast if she had to guess. Lamb with rosemary, maybe? But beforeshe could ask any more questions, the butler had vanished, and a familiar face entered the room. His hair was longer, but she could pick those warm hazel eyes out of any line-up.
“Erik,” she said, in barely more than a whisper. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Toronto?”
He slowly walked over to her, and with each step, she could feel her heart beat faster.
“I thought . . . I thought I missed my chance. That you weren’t interested in me anymore.”
“I don’t know if I’m capable of not finding you interesting, Cierra,” he said, now just inches away from her. “I just needed time to think. Besides, you’ve been a little busy.”
“Just a bit.” Biting her lower lip, she looked up at him with hopeful eyes and saw a reassuring warmth reflected back. “Did you reach any conclusions?”
He took her hands in his, cupping his hands to blow on her cold fingers. “I did,” he said, kissing the top of her hand as lightly as a feather. “Your fingers smell like Skittles,” he murmured, chuckling softly.
“Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Don’t I know it.” Releasing one of her hands, he gently traced the outline of her jaw.
“So,” she whispered, “what did you want to tell me?”
He grinned, and Cierra could feel both of his warm hands caressing her chilly cheeks. Rather than say anything, he pressed his soft lips against hers, his answer as clear and sweet as the bright new season.
