“If you say so. But if you really want to know the truth, I sent you that cake because you looked miserable.”
“I wasn’t. I was having a good time.”
Another lie. One of these days, she’d figure out that she couldn’t hide the truth from me. Not when it came to stuff that mattered, and not when it came to her.
“I’ve seen people have a better time getting mauled by a lion,” I said.
She huffed. “Why do you care if I’m miserable? I thought you’d love seeing that.”
“Because.” I stopped at a red crossing light. “I’m the only one who gets to make you miserable.”
Another silence, this one weighted on both ends.
Maya was stress and frustration and escape all rolled into one. Our interactions never failed to raise my blood pressure, but in a world where my days blended together with mind-numbing ease, she was the only person who made me feelalive. Her anger, her drive, her rare moments of genuine vulnerability. I couldn’t get enough.
I wanted to stash her emotions in a bottle and carry them around with me because seeing her feel made me feel too. Without our constant battles, my life would resemble a flat desert landscape.
Empty. Predictable. Boring.
So, no. No one else was allowed to make her feel the way I did. That privilege was reserved solely for me.
“You are such a bastard,” Maya finally said.
There was a strange note in her voice, but she didn’t give me a chance to respond. When I checked my screen again, she’d already hung up.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was still thinking about me hours after that dessert. I’d say that was a win for me.
My mouth curled into a grin.
I continued my walk home, my steps lighter than before.
Sending Maya that cake hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
CHAPTER 8
Maya
SEBASTIAN AND I DIDN’T TALK ABOUT MY DATE WITHNikhil again. We were too consumed with work and, in my case, birthday planning, maternal matchmaking, and general anxiety about my life, but that was neither here nor there.
The most important thingright nowwas the official announcement of the Derek Gardiner frozen foods line. It’d rolled out that morning, one week after my disastrous date at Brasserie M, and I’d been glued to my phone since.
The major trade outlets had instantly picked up the news, which was amplified by a splashy billboard campaign near key supermarkets, aggressive online marketing, and a special interview we’d set up for Derek withGourmandmagazine.
The fallout from last month’s listeria contamination had died down. No additional cases were reported, and we’d even received commendations for our effective crisis response. We were still dealing with reputational brand damage since “Singh Foods” and “listeria” were now intertwined in the general public’s minds, but it could’ve gone a lot worse.
Overall, the collab announcement went as well as I could’vehoped… so why did I feel so uneasy?
“Social media reception is good.” Sebastian scrolled through his phone. “Most journalists and influencers are intrigued by the idea. They love Derek, so that’s a plus for us.”
“Most?” I frowned. “Who are the outliers?”
We were working out of a previously unused office at my family’s company headquarters in Midtown. This was our new meeting spot going forward, since people kept coming up to say hi to Sebastian at Valhalla and interrupting us.
We’d had a full-blown argument over the location, but in the end, I’d won. The Singh headquarters was the perfect midpoint between my Upper East Side apartment and his West Village townhouse, and it had more free space than the Laurents’ New York offices. It just made sense.
One point to Team Singh.
“The major one is Hollis Miller,” Sebastian said. “He made a whole video ranting about ‘chefs who sell out,’ but that’s how he is. I’d be shocked if he had something nice to say right off the bat.”
