My phone vibrates with another message. What’s happening? Why is my husband texting me with such urgency?
Chef bosshole: Come home. It’s an emergency.
Chef bosshole: I need you.
I frown.
He’s messaging me, so he should be fine, right?I left him sleeping this morning when I scurried out of our penthouse at the crack of dawn.
Which is a change.
In the early months of our marriage, it was both of us leaving very early to get to The Edge each morning.
When I decided to follow through with my decision of leaving The Edge, my husband wasn't happy. But he understood my need to branch out on my own and prove myself on my own merit.
I worked with him to transition my responsibilities over to Mark to take over as sous chef.
James made it clear he’d miss me. That no one could replace me and the working rapport we built. But it felt like we’d moved into a new phase where our relationship as husband and wife defined us. We’d outgrown being head chef and sous chef.
A month after that dinner at Margot’s place, I left The Edge. This coincided with him using a portion of his inheritance to buy out the board of directors. James is now truly his own boss, and he’s more relaxed in how he runs the restaurant.
He no longer treats his team like they're a project he has to whip into shape in the shortest possible time.
The result is very little staff turnover.
I took some time off to absorb everything that had happened.
First, the wedding; then, confessing my love for my husband and finding out that he loves me too. And then, the change in my working life, where I had to embrace the reality that it was time to start my own restaurant.
And no, I didn’t want to accept James' help in that…or take money from him.
I’m already receiving my share of the profits from the business, which is substantial.
Even after paying for Freya’s school expenses and buying the flat Briar lives in, I had enough left over to use as starting capital.
I involved James in the planning. But the final decisions were always mine.
Two months later, I made an offer on a venue in an upcoming part of the city.
Rents were lower and I could try out my ideas for the menu without attracting too many critics.
This is the first week when I haven't been home before James because I’d been putting in longer hours than him.
Since it’s Tuesday, James had the day off and I didn’t. I’ve been pulled into the thrill of planning.
Which is why I’m at my office, working through my concepts for the menu… Because all the other details will flow from that.
I sit at my desk, notes spread everywhere and press my fingers against my temples.
I thought I’d take things slowly. But as my excitement built and the planning caught speed, I realized something. I’ll never be happy unless I pursue a Michelin star.
I plan to do so as soon as my restaurant is up and running.
A thousand variables. James always said that's what a Michelin star costs you, a thousand variables, all of them yours to hold.
I used to think he was being dramatic.
Now, I have my own restaurant, and I understand; he was being precise.
