“I’m Jackson, and this is my wife, Annabelle.”
“It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Chef Odette. Please come in so we can go over today’s menu.”
“Jack,” I chastise through gritted teeth.
He shrugs. “I would rather not start the day on the wrong foot. I despise liars. Are you not my wife?”
I give him an exasperated look. “What are you playing at, Jackson Peters?”
“Just want to test it out on my lips is all,” he says, then follows the chef like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Test it out on his lips. Why? Why would he need to do that?
7
Annabelle
Of course,Jack is the star of the class. He’s one of those people who excel in everything they do, and cooking is no different.
It’s never bothered me until now.
I hate failing, and I can’t cook a goddamn thing right, for fuck’s sake.
And, of course, every woman is fawning over him like he’s God’s gift to the world, including the chef, since he’s “the star of the class.”
“I keep burning everything. How are you such a good cook? Have you been hiding this talent from me?”
First, he looks down at my burnt baguette, then tries his hardest to hide his smile as he eyes my burnt éclairs.
Great.
“Believe it or not, I remember a lot of what Mrs. Moreno taught us as kids. It’s why Sadie’s such a good cook.”
“Your mate Sebastian’s mum?”
“Mmhmm,” he mumbles around a piece of cheese he popped into his mouth, then cuts another, making sure it’s perfectly sized against the cracker.
It’s my weird quirk. The portions have to be perfect for me to enjoy it.
He presses it to my lips, so I open wide, and my eyes nearly roll back in my head when I bite down.
The French truly know cheese. It’s one of the hundred things they do well. But cheese is life, so it tops anything else.
He takes another bite, then continues, “After school, all the guys—and Sadie, of course—would meet at the Moreno house since their mom was the best cook around. She always had something waiting for us. When it was time for everyone to go home to their families, Sadie and I often stayed since there wasn’t much to look forward to at our home.” He pauses, shaking his head at the memory. “Leo—I don’t know if you remember him; he’s Seb’s younger brother. He would help Sadie with her homework while Seb and I would help his mom make dinner. It just stuck with me.”
“I remember. That was before Sadie and I had phones, so I would learn from her letters, often weeks later, what she learned to cook. I know it will never make up for shitty parents, but it was nice you had a familiar place to go,” I say as the timer goes off.
“Can you grab that while I take the demi-glace off the stove?”
I bend over to get the mini Madeleine’s out of the oven, our second dessert that Jack picked, knowing it’s my favorite. He’s always been thoughtful like that, remembering all my favorites and putting them first before thinking about what he wants.
My thick, unruly hair keeps falling in my face, making it hard to see, and of course, I didn’t wipe my hands clean, so anytime I try to push it back, it gets filthy.
“Stand up. Let me fix your hair, B,” Jack says from behind me, and I freeze on the spot, instantly taken back to a memory from my childhood I haven’t thought of in a long time.
“J-Jack? What are you doing?” I stutter, then scrunch my face up in embarrassment at the crack of my voice.
God, act cool, Annabelle.
