She smiles back at me. “Okay.”
Once my friends leave, I slide onto my sofa and wrap myself in my white throw blanket. A sense of unease washes over me as myeyes drift around the room, suddenly aware of every dark, empty corner. What if someone cons their way into the building and gets into my apartment? I’m all alone here and completely defenseless.
My phone screen illuminates; relief floods through me as I peek at the screen and see Jake’s name. It’s as if he sensed my mood.
Miss me yet?
I smile as I type out a response.
Yes. It’s too quiet in here without the sound of you singing the Golden Girls theme song.
A few seconds later, three dots appear, indicating that Jake is typing his response.
Then it’s a good thing I’m standing right outside your door.
I leap off the sofa and yank my door open. Jake is leaning against the frame, a smirk stretched across his face.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” I ask.
Jake shrugs. “I had a sneaking suspicion you needed me.”
I press my face into his shirt, breathing in his warm, clean smell.
“I did.”
“SO?” JAKE VENTURES ANhour later, when we’re laying in my bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. “How was work today?”
I roll over to tuck my head into the crook of his shoulder, resting my cheek against him as I consider his question.
“Same as always,” I admit. I tilt my head back to look at him.“Do you ever feel like being a musician isn’t what you thought it would be?”
“Only every day,” he laughs. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, planting a trail of kisses up my collarbone. “Why do you ask? Is being a chef different than you thought it would be?”
“So different. I mean, I knew that I wasn’t going to graduate culinary school and become an executive chef right away. But I didn’t expect the day-to-day stuff to be so uninspiring.”
“I know exactly how you feel,” Jake agrees. “I thought being a musician would mean spending all day in the studio, writing music, jamming with other artists. No one tells you how much of your day is consumed by press junkets and ad campaigns.”
I nuzzle deeper into his chest. It’s crazy how similar our career paths have been, considering we’re in completely different fields. When we first met, we were on the precipice of making our dreams come true, and now, we’re grappling with the realities of them. The shared experience is one of the reasons we understand each other better than anyone else.
“Maybe working in a restaurant isn’t right for you,” Jake muses. “There’s no shame in quitting and trying something new, you know. There are lots of other ways to explore your love of cooking.”
My shoulders tense at the suggestion. Jake sees no problem with taking a leap of faith or trying something new without any type of backup plan. But not me. There’s no way I would just quit, not when I’ve spent years working toward a goal. I just need to stick it out a little while longer. No one likes a new job right away… right?
Rolling over, I prop my chin on my hands, staring up at him.
“There are a few other things I wouldn’t mind exploring.”
19
“SO, I’VE BEEN THINKINGit’s time you guys met Jake.” I look pointedly at Ali before adding, “Properly.”
Chloe freezes, another scooped-out bagel hovering halfway to her mouth. Ali’s response is predictably less elegant; she spits out her iced coffee, spraying droplets across the table.
“Fuck. Yes,” she breathes, bringing a fist to her mouth. “I swear I never thought this day would come.”
“I was thinking about having a dinner party on Sunday night since I’m off after brunch service.” I dab at the wet spot on the table with a napkin. “It’s been ages since I cooked for you guys.”
“Well, I’m in. You know I’ll never say no to your cooking,” Chloe says, finally taking a small bite.
