Liam scampers off and Eden bursts into a fit of laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, this is too precious.”
“My poor palate,” Shang mumbles. “You didn’t give him a handat all?”
Eden shakes her head. “Said he wanted to do it all by himself.” She taps the edge of his plate. “Come on, honey. We don’t want to disappoint him, do we?”
Shang leans over and kisses his wife on the lips. “Just you wait until Mother’s Day.”
“Why does that sound like a threat?”
He simply shrugs. Eden is only a little bit worried.
Shang forgoes the rest of his mushy pancakes and instead places his hand over Eden’s stomach. Her belly is getting bigger by the day. She’s about four months along and practically glowing.
“How’s she treating you this morning, my little wife?”
“Not bad,” Eden says fondly. “I think our little girl’s giving me a break from all the morning sickness.” Eden runs her fingers through Shang’s hair. “Now, eat your breakfast. It’sbring-your-kid-to-workday, and I, for one, am interested to see what havoc he’ll wreak in our kitchen.”
Shang lets out a soft groan, but there’s no denying his smile.
* * *
Control. That’s what he likes the most about running his own kitchen.
Everything has its place. Everyone has their roles to fulfill. Everything is measured and timed and seasoned.
He likes his knives dangerously sharp—it’s dangerous to work with a dull blade—and he likes his waiters to pick up orders the second the plates hit the line. He’s never bothered with a chef’s hat because they’re quite frankly pompous as fuck and it’s hot enough in here as it is. He keeps his apron clean and the sleeves of his white chef jacket rolled up to just below his elbows.
Trained at the prestigious Gagnon-Allard School of Culinary Arts. Four Michelin stars under his belt. He’s the pristine image of the world—class chef everyone believes him to be. He used to be the great and mighty Head Chef of La Rouge, Alexander Chen.
Now everyone just calls him Shang, chef extraordinaire and one of the greatest culinary minds of his generation. He’s not so scary. He’s actually a pretty fun boss to work with. Way nicer than he used to be.
But right now?
Right now, he’s too busy watching his son to pay attention to the chits printing out.
Thank God he has his lovely wife to man the line.
“I need the dishes for tables four and seventeen,” Eden announces clearly over the roar of the hood fans and the sizzle of skillets over low flames.
“And I need dessert!” Liam declares, reaching up to the dessert station to help himself to a chocolate covered strawberry.
Shang swoops in and picks his son up. “Come on, sweet pea. Can’t you see Auntie Rina is working?”
Rina giggles, placing another chocolate-covered fruit in the center of Liam’s palm. “Oh, I don’t mind.”
“She doesn’t mind,” Liam confirms to his father.
Peter winks at Liam. “So, do you think you’ll grow up to be a chef like us?”
“He’s too young to be thinking about those sorts of things,” Shang says firmly.
“I want to be a food critic,” Liam announces, much to Peter’s exaggerated dismay.
“Youwhat? Oh, the horror.”
Liam laughs—bright and beautiful—just like his mother. Shang’s heart has never felt more full.
“Hey, did you see this?” Freddie asks, handing Shang his phone. It’s open to a recent article from Gastronomica, the title bolded and centered.
