“I thought maybe you don’t want a student dating your daughter,” he started. “Conflict of interest when it comes to grading. Was that it?”
His eyes shuttered in disgust. “As if I don’t have more ethics than to grade you based on your relationship.”
Jonah nodded, grateful to hear that, and tried number two. “Your own marriage broke up due to long hours and the tough life of a chef. Maybe you’d prefer she not get involved with anyone in the restaurant business.”
His eyes flickered as though there might be a fraction of truth in that, but he shook his head. “She is free to date in any industry.”
“Then…the baby? You want her to have her own and not be a stepmother to mine?”
Another flicker, maybe sharp enough to be significant. Thathadto be it.
“Stepmother? Aren’t you getting a little over your skis, Lawson?” He actually laughed, but it sounded forced. “You met her last month. I fully comprehend your sizeable ego, but I don’t think she’s ready for marriage after a few weeks, and neither are you.”
But he didn’t deny that it bothered him that Jonah had a child. Also, he so didn’t have a sizeable ego, but opted not to fight that now.
“Any other dumb theories?” Marcel asked.
“I just want the truth,” Jonah replied.
The other man leaned in and beckoned Jonah closer, as if about to deliver a secret.
“My daughter is carrying something,” he whispered.
Jonah did not move. She was…carrying something? What did that mean?
“It is a hard thing. She has carried it for a long time, alone, mostly. It is the most personal thing she owns. I will not tell you what it is, Lawson, because it is not mine to tell. She has had a great many things taken from her, and I do not want there to be another.”
Jonah tried to process this, like the chef had laid down all the ingredients but never named the dish.What was this thing?
“It is the reason for…her situation. And it is the reason I told you to keep your distance—not because she would be bad for you, son, but because you might be bad for her, and she would not survive that again.”
Jonah’s throat had gone tight and he got stuck on the word “son” and the fact that whatever this thing was, it cost her that guy in New Orleans, and maybe the one standing in this kitchen. Marcel, for whatever reason, was protecting his daughter.
“She has not told you,” Marcel went on, quieter, “because she is afraid of you, Lawson.”
“Chef! I would never?—”
The hand came up again. “Not afraid that you will hurt her. Afraid that you will be the kindest man she has ever met, and that you will still not be able to stay when you know. And by then, she will have lost her heart to two men.”
“To me and…that other guy in New Orleans?”
He gave a sad smile. “To you and the little guy in the playpen.”
It took Jonah a moment to find his voice. “Thank you for telling me that much, Chef.”
Marcel eyed him critically, thinking before he spoke. “As far as ‘that other guy’?” He scoffed. “You’re ten of him.”
His jaw loosened. “Thank you.”
“That might not be enough.”
Jonah looked hard at him. “I lost my mother at fifteen, Chef. And my son lost his at three weeks. We can weather storms,Atlas and me. And we both…” He almost saidlove. “We both care about Pepper.”
Marcel sighed and pushed off the counter, seemingly satisfied that the conversation was over. “Let’s please get my chair back in place.”
As they dragged it in silence back to the den, Pepper came back into the kitchen with the baby on her shoulder.
Had she heard any of that conversation? All of it?
