David
Ihaven’t done this in a while…” Jeri muttered, peeling the foil and cage off a bottle of Champagne. She rotated it in her hand, felt for the seam with her thumb, and then, with one swift motion, ran a butter knife against it.
Brayan yelped and ducked as the top of the bottle—cork and all—sheared off and flew at him, disappearing into the corner of the restaurant. The clatter was immediately swallowed by the staff—David’s friends—cheering.
“Here’s to our new master sommelier, David Curtis!” Jeri cried. “Aspire’spermanentwine director.” Another whoop spread through the restaurant.
David’s cheeks were about to pop off and float away like bubbles, he was smiling so much. Jeri poured, and Kyra passed out the flutes, starting with David.
“You did it,” she said, pulling David into a one-armed hug, careful not to spill any Champagne. “I knew you could.”
“Thanks, Kyra.”
David more or less hadn’t stopped smiling since last night when—afterhours of waiting and pacing in the hotel lobby—he’d been summoned into a different meeting room, where the same old white man had waited for him.
The man had left him sweating as he looked over a folder for a painfully long while before meeting David’s eyes and congratulating him.
David had nearly fallen to the floor with relief. And pride. He was even willing to (mostly) overlook being calledsonagain as the guy shook his hand and helped him fix his new master somm pin on his lapel.
He’d smiled all the way through the reception after fielding questions about what was next for him. A winery? New York? San Francisco? A few people had already heard rumors about him and Shyla’s new place. But he gave everyone the same answer: “I’m staying in Kansas City.”
In fact, as soon as he’d gotten the news—before he even went to the reception—he’d called Jeri to tell her and asked to stay on.
“Like you even have to ask,” she’d said, but her voice had sounded a little throaty on the phone, and she’d insisted on getting off because of a “bad connection.”
And now here he was. Celebrating with the people who’d helped him, and cheered for him, and put up with him having his head up his ass some of the time. Okay, most of the time.
David was living his best life. It had just taken him a while to realize it.
“You need a top-up?” Jeri waggled another bottle of Champagne. Le Mesnil. The same one he’d served Farzan the night they met.
“I better not. I’ve got to head out soon.”
“Oh really?” Jeri said. “What could be so important on the biggest night of your life? Could it be a certain fake food critic?”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“I was willing to when I thought you were leaving me. But now that you’re here to stay, yes, I will be teasing you endlessly about it.”
David laughed and pulled Jeri into a hug, so fast she sloshed Champagne over them both. But David didn’t care, and neither did she.
“Okay,” she said, blinking fast, but David pretended not to see. “Go get your man.”
He still didn’t know exactly what he was going to say. He’d written speech after speech—those little note cards still came in handy, and he still had a thousand blank ones he had to get rid of somehow—but in the end he’d tossed them.
He’d spent the last ten years, even longer, trying to plan out his life. Thinking that if he worked hard enough, studied hard enough, he could reach his dreams. But this time, he was going to go with his heart and trust that the words he needed would be there.
He wove through the restaurant, giving out handshakes and high fives and hugs and fist bumps and so, so manythank yous before he finally reached the doorway. He grabbed his coat and started slipping it on as Kyra sidled up next to him.
“So. Gonna stay after all?”
“Yup.” As David fussed with his zipper, Tonya swung by and slipped a twenty into Kyra’s hand. “What was that? Did you take a bet on me?”
“Iwona bet,” Kyra said. “On me. I didn’t want to have to train someone to replace you.”
“You brat.” But David pulled her into another hug.
“You going to go find your man?” she said when he released her.
