“What?” Hope asked, now immediately on the defensive.
“What’s wrong with Ange?” Cadence dropped that question in her lap like a live bomb.
Hope shook her head slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She could answer that question a million and one ways. Everyone had something wrong with them, and with their relationship, Hope had far more insight into what some of those problems were. But Cadence and Lyric seemed to be asking about something specific, something that they knew that Hope didn’t.
“Something’s going on with her,” Lyric said, her voice far softer and more concerning than Cadence’s. “I’ve never seen her quite like this before.”
“Well, it’s been really stressful…” Hope trailed off, looking over their heads to make sure that Angelica wasn’t suddenly going to appear and overhear this mini-intervention they were trying to have with her.
“No, this is more than that. Ms. Shields can handle stress. This is… something else.” Lyric shook her head, and her cheeks pinked. “I wasn’t sure if she’d told you…?”
Hope held her breath. This was what Angelica had wanted to avoid while on set, she was damn sure of that. Now that their relationship was out in the open, people could play them against each other or for each other, but they all had to figure out how to navigate this new development. And Hope was damn sure that Angelica wouldn’t want anyone in on her business—or at least what she’d perceive as her business.
And unfortunately, Hope hadn’t had much time with Angelica in the last few weeks. They’d worked around each other, and then she’d hopped back to California for the weekend instead of spending it with Hope and Eva. And Lyric was right, Angelica had been off her game since she’d come back. Or more precisely, since she’d left.
“I’m worried about her,” Lyric added, her voice still soft.
Hope had no doubt about that. Lyric wouldn’t be making a fuss about this if she didn’t think it was serious. And she knew where her place was. Not the confidante. Not the one Angelica would ever choose to lean on.
No. That was Hope.
And no one else.
And yet, Angelica wasn’t leaning on her.
“Chef?” Trey’s voice reached Hope’s ears. She turned around to find him standing there and waited for an explanation. “What do we do after we break down the fish?”
“Right. I’ll be there in a second.” Hope pressed her lips together and looked from Lyric to Cadence. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Deal with it?” Cadence asked. “You sound like you’re going to scold a toddler.”
It felt like that—a bit. They were in a relationship. They were serious. They were committed. And yet, Angelica was still choosing to pull away from her and not rely on Hope like she should. When the hell would that change?
Hope managed to hold her tongue on commenting back, but she did shoot Lyric a look. Because, of the two of them, Lyric would at least understand exactly what Hope was about to face. Rolling her shoulders, she dropped them down and headed back into the kitchen.
“Pop a skillet on and put some oil and butter in it!” Hope shouted the command into the kitchen and waited for Trey to snap to attention.
It didn’t take long.
She pulled over the bell peppers she’d brought out and immediately started chopping them and working on a plan to get Angelica to talk, to do anything that would get her moving in the direction they both knew she needed to go. Because Cadence and Lyric were right—she couldn’t keep closing everyone off.
“We’re going to cook down the peppers and garlic, add in the spinach and then cheese when it’s wilted. Then we’ll sauté the fish and put it all together. All right?” Hope glanced up to make eye contact with Trey. It was now or never.
She resisted the urge to look at the camera, all the tension from that short interval riding in the center of her shoulders. She’d take this plate up to Angelica and use it as an excuse to get her alone in a room for a few minutes, and then they could have it out.
Well, hopefully it wouldn’t turn into an argument, but Hope was pretty sure it would. They were both stressed and Angelica was probably going to pop. It was her preferred method of avoidance too. Hope slid the food into the skillet and watched as Trey deftly moved everything around and prepared the rest. She let him work, seeing if he’d remember the instructions she’d given him already.
He seemed to.
They just had to work on his technique with the fish, because the fillets he brought over to sauté looked like they’d been rippedapart with his bare hands instead of sliced with a knife. Hope didn’t say anything about it, though. He didn’t need another correction but rather a compliment.
She stayed next to him as they finished the meal and then plated it.
“I want you to cook twenty more of these for the crew and for Joy and Ross. Plate them exactly like this. Enzo?”
“Yes, Chef?” Enzo came over to her, ducking his chin like he’d done something wrong.
