“You.”
I nearly choked on my saliva and stumbled back against Marg’s desk, causing her cup of pens to rattle. “Excuse me?” I wheezed out, coughing.
“My plan is to have you replace me. I wouldn’t leave this place to sink. Just because I didn’t find happiness here doesn’t meanI don’t love this place—and Marg. I do. Truly. But my life isn’t meant to be lived here, Angel.”
There was nothing I could say. My brain was misfiring. The hair on my arms rose and I could feel my eyes about to pop out of my skull.
Felix scanned me, his lips twitching. “I wasn’t going to leave until the end of the season, but I can’t wait. My mental health is too important, Angel.”
I understood that. In fact, I didn’t think there was anyone else in the building who could understand it better. I brought my fingers to my temples and dropped my eyes to the floor. “I understand that, Felix, I do…and forgive me for what I’m about to say.”
“What are you—”
My eyes snapped back up to him. “You’re bat shit crazy if you think I can take your place.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse, and everyone is a little crazy,” he deadpanned.
“I—” My mouth closed and opened a few times as I came to realize he’d already made up his mind. “I can’t… I’m not…I’m not good enough to be sous, Felix. I’ll fail so miserably, then Marg will run me out of town.”
The chef’s features softened. “I highly doubt that. You went to one of the top culinary schools in the nation. You know Marg’s menu like the back of your hand, and you can fucking cook, Angel,” he reminded me.
“Yes, but—”
“I can give you the specials menus and their recipes for the rest of the summer. I plan ahead, and this will give you time to do the same. You can tweak the dishes, put your own spin on them, make them yours,” he offered, coming to me and putting his hands on my shoulders. He bent his knees a bit to get eye levelwith me. “You told me you wanted to have your own restaurant one day, that being a pastry chef was just a stepping stone.”
“I said that on Christmas Eve when we were going around in a circle telling each other our delusional dreams.” I glared at him. “You’re crazy.”
“You can’t get too comfortable hanging out on a single step toward greatness, Angel. If you really want it, you have to keep moving. I’m placing the next right in front of you.” His fingers squeezed me gently. “Lift your foot and ascend.”
Before I could argue, he stepped back. “I’m not telling Marg until Monday, and I will be recommending you as my replacement. You and I both know she’ll want this. You have until then to decide whether you really want to chase your dreams or just fantasize about them.”
Then he was gone, heading back into the kitchen, barking orders as if everything was fine.
“Monday. He’s giving me until Monday to decide my fate!” I huffed as I folded myself into my car, tossing my bag into the passenger seat. I was too mad to be gentle. It hit the passengerside door with a heavythunkas I started the engine. The voice inside my head, always loud and ever present, started rolling out the questions.
How was I supposed to take three days to decide whether I wanted to be basically thrown into the fire?
It had taken me four months to decide to take the jump and apply for culinary school.
How was I supposed to step into this role so easily, knowing Scott wanted it?
Did he deserve it? No, but he worked hard. He’d been dealt some bad cards in the past, but he was getting his life together and—
“Stop worrying about Scott and his feelings,” I muttered to myself. “What about you and your feelings?”
Before I could dive into those annoying feelings paired with a side of overthinking, lightning flashed in the bay, thunder following not even a second later.Shit.
The weather was supposed to be severe tonight, and I had to get home so I could shower. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
Would you be able to sleep anyway?
Felix just offered you something on a silver platter, Angel! You don’t want to take it because you’re scared!
Oh, hush.
I glared at Marg’s Place, grinding my teeth. “I have a right to be scared. Even downright terrified,” I groaned as I pulled out of the parking lot, making a right, heading up the hills instead of into town. As I settled in for the ten-minute drive, I turned on my calming playlist and let the soothing notes carry me off into the night. When the sun was out, my commute home was something out of a fairy tale. There were seas of endless forests on either side of the road, the trees stood tall and proud, and onsunny days, the clouds would dance above them. At night, the commute reminded me of an old horror movie scene.
My house was perched on top of a hill, and the road leading up to it was curved. The view from the living room window was the second reason I’d chosen this place. When I’d looked for houses, something had told me to buy the cute yellow two story within walking distance of all the shops and downtown. I’d ignored that feeling because the cost of renovations for that place would’ve put me in a considerable amount of debt. There was another house on the market at that time, but there was hardly any natural light. That would never have been a place I would be comfortable in. I’d already spent a chunk of my twenties in darkness. Then, after three weeks of sifting through listings, multiple showings, and extensive pros and cons lists, I finally found the house I would grow old in.
