As much as I wanted it, there was still two percent of me that doubted myself. My previous failures hung over me like a cloud, and until I figured out a way to get past that, I was stuck in limbo.
I couldn’t tell Margaux that, though. She had too much conviction about what she did, and admitting I didn’t have enough would simply be another failure on my part.
“That’s a problem for another day.” I pushed off the wall and headed for the main road. “Thanks for letting me shadow you tonight. I’ll see you around.”
She stubbed out her cigarette and lit a fresh one. She was aware her smoking habit might kill her one day, but her attitude toward death was the same as her attitude toward everything except cooking: fuck it.
“Don’t get used to it,” she called after me. “Next time I see you in the kitchen, you better be the one running it.”
I laughed even as a pang hit my chest. I tossed my hand up in a casual wave goodbye and turned onto the main avenue.
It was a long walk home, but it was a gorgeous night, and the city was strangely calming when it was this quiet.
My footsteps echoed in the near-empty streets. Besides the occasional passing car and pedestrian, it was just me and my thoughts.
My father. Maya. The product launch. The past and future and everything in between. There were a dozen roads splitting off into a dozen more, and I wished I could commit to a path without second-guessing myself every step of the way.
I made it halfway downtown when my phone buzzed. I almostsent it to voicemail before I saw who was calling.
Interesting.
I picked up, my mood lightening. “Miss me already?”
“You wish,” Maya said.
“I can’t think of any other reason you’d call me after midnight. Unless…”
“Don’t finish that sentence unless you want me to throw up,” she warned. A beat passed, and then, “Why did you send me that dessert?”
That fucking dessert. It was my second most foolish decision of the day, after canceling guys’ night to work.
“You like strawberries and chocolate,” I said. “I was being nice.”
“You’re never nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Not to me.”
“Fair point,” I conceded. “What can I say? I was in a good mood.”
“You’re up to something, Laurent.” Her obvious suspicion made me smile. “If I find out you put laxatives or something in that cake, I’ll kill you.”
Cause of death: anaphylactic shock.
The memory of the coroner’s pronouncement floated through my mind. My smile wavered, but I kept my voice even. “One, I wouldn’t damage my restaurant’s reputation by doing something so stupid. Two, that’s rich coming from someone who was planning to do that exact thing to me at her family’s dinner party last month.”
A long silence greeted my response.
I pictured Maya sitting in her penthouse, her mouth open with shock, and my good mood returned.
“You thought I didn’t know?” I tsked. “I can predict your every move, Sal.”
Truthfully, I’d run into Diya on my way to the conservatory that night. She’d refused to tell me why she was holding a bottle of laxatives, but I’d put the pieces together myself.
I’d never tell Maya, though. Let her think I could read her mind.
“I had no such plans,” she said, her tone wholly unconvincing. “And if I did, you deserved it.”
