“So I need to torture him, basically. Be a boss lady. Graduate, do my job, date someone, show him just how great I am, and make him weep himself to sleep.”
Rogan laughs. “Please, please fucking make him weep. He needs nothing more than a good dose of reality.”
“You know what? You’re right.” I glance down at myself. “I’m not this girl, the one who shows up to meetings looking like a complete disaster. I’m not the girl who gets hung up on a guy. I’m not the girl who forgets about her dreams or why she’s pursuing them. Damn it, I’m better than this.” I reach up, pull my ponytail holder out of my hair, and fling it across the room as if I’m making a grand statement, declaring a new day. “Listen up, you two. From this point on, you’re going to see the old Eve back in action. Hold on to your loins, people, because I’m coming in hot!” Feeling like myself for the first time in a week, I stride out of the office and toward the manor’s front doors.
“Might want to take a shower first!” Harper calls out after me. “Because your hair hasn’t moved since you took it out of that ponytail.”
“Well aware, Harper, well aware.”
I shut the front doors and race off toward Main Street with one thing on my mind: getting my life back in order.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
REID
Rogan: And the dumb ass award goes to **Drum roll**
Griffin: [Michael Scott Drum Roll GIF]
Jen: Oh I’m positively excited to find out.
Brig: **Crosses fingers** please don’t let it be me, please don’t let it be me.
Rogan: Not this time, bro. It goes to your older sibling, Reid.
Brig: That’s a relief.
Jen: What did he do?
Griffin: Has to be really dumb for Rogan to be talking about it.
Rogan: He broke up with Eve.
Jen: What?!?!
Griffin: Uhh . . . why?
Brig: My heart just plummeted. **Whispers** The curse.
Rogan: Heard from Eve, just waiting for Reid to chime in.
Griffin: Care to share, bro?
Jen: Curious minds want to know why you’re an idiot.
Brig: My heart can’t take this rollercoaster of emotions.
Rogan: Reid . . .
I toss my phone to the other side of my living room couch. The last thing I want to fucking do right now is talk to them—not that I can anyway because they all seem to have a connection to Eve. And anything I say about the breakup will most likely get back to her. I can’t have that. Not when I’m barely hanging on by a thread.
It’s taken every ounce of energy left in my body to not drive up to the Inn and just stare at her from the bar.
Working with her, oh yeah, a real fucking treat—note the sarcasm. Seeing her, acting like everything is cool . . . it’s fucking killing me. A slow, torturous death.
But after just a week, I have to admit that we’ve all been working well together. Eric and I have been pairing flavors, figuring out a menu. Construction is in full force, and we really couldn’t ask for more.
Well, I could.
There’s a knock at my door, and before I can say, “Come in,” it opens. I don’t bother to look up, knowing full well it’s Eric, come to do some taste testing.
“You look like shit,” he says in greeting, taking a seat across from me at the table where I have everything set up.
“Yeah, well, when you force me to break up with your sister, this is what happens.” Even I can hear the bitterness in my voice.
“Don’t do that, Reid. If roles were reversed, you would have asked me to do the same exact thing.”
“Or you’re just trying to be a dick because I was a dick to you years ago.”
Eric sits back in his chair, slaps his notepad on the table, and crosses his arms over his chest. “So this is how it’s going to be? You’re not going to be able to be a mature adult about this? I didn’t ask you to break up with her because I was trying to be a dick. I asked you to break up with her because she’s a business partner. You and I both lost everything we ever wanted because I mixed business with pleasure, and it clouded my judgment. Even back then, you warned me against dating a coworker. I’m just installing the same guidelines here so that this time we can succeed.”
My jaw works back and forth as I stare down at the covered plates in front of us. The difference between the two of us, though, is that I fucking love Eve, I was with her before the opportunity came about, and restaurant or no restaurant, I don’t know if I want to wake up another day without her in my arms.
With every day that goes by without a text from her, without seeing that contagious smile or hearing her sharp tongue, I realize more and more just how attached I am to her. And every time I see her at Knight and Port, I wonder if I made the right decision. We’re working seamlessly right now, but we were beforehand too. Did I make a gigantic mistake and let go of the one thing in this world that truly made me happy?
In all honesty, I don’t think I’m good enough for someone like Eve—someone with so much damn confidence and drive. I may not be good enough, but what I do know is that she’s good for me.
But before I can say any of that, I swallow my pride and lift the cover off the first plate.
“A classic take on the baked bean sandwich. French toast bread, grilled and buttered, baked beans, crispy applewood bacon, cheese, and thinly sliced Granny Smith apples.”
“French toast bread? Like this is actual french toast?”
I nod, the previous conversation vanishing the minute we start talking food. “The idea came to me the other night when Griffin was going on and on in a text message about Ren wanting breakfast for dinner, french toast in particular. Since baked bean sandwiches are such a New England staple, I thought it would be fun to have a breakfast-for-dinner take on it.”
Eric picks up the sandwich, examines it with a sniff and a cautious eye, and then takes a large bite. The crispy bacon crunches against the soft beans and tart, fresh apple. I know it’s fucking good. I spent most of the afternoon perfecting it.
I push a small dish toward him. “Dip it in the bourbon-pecan glaze.”
“Oh, dude.” He smiles and dips the sandwich in the glaze before taking another bite. I swear his eyes roll into the back of his head as he slowly chews. And for a brief moment, I forget about my deep-rooted pain at the loss of Eve. And instead, I’m transported back in time to when I used to test new dishes and flavors with Eric. We spent so many long nights in the kitchen, trying to top one another with secret ingredients like on Top Chef, throwing each other off, and reveling in the challenge.
“This is damn good. Fuck, it’s really good.”
“Thanks.”
“This has to be on the menu, no question about it.” He picks up his notepad and starts writing down the details about the sandwich.
“Would you change anything? I wasn’t sure if I should add nutmeg or not.”
He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”
With a surge of pride, I uncover the next dish and pour the sauce on top before he picks it up. I didn’t want the bread going soggy.
“This is a take on a meatball sub. I made lobster balls with panko and egg as a binder with some lemon seasoning, and the sauce on top is a cheesy clam chowder, all on a New England bun, buttered and toasted.”
“Cheesy clam chowder sauce? Where the hell did you come from?”
I chuckle. “It’s something I’ve been dreaming about for a while. But I never tried to make one because, well, I wasn’t cooking. So there it is. Let me know what you think.”
I hold my breath while he takes a bite, and as a slow smile creeps across his face, I know I have another winner on my hands.
My heart might be broken, but at least my cooking talent isn’t.
“Here.” I plop a plate of cider donuts down on my parents’ empty dinner table and then take a seat.
My mom comes over to my chair, grips both of my cheeks, and plants a kiss on my head. �
��There’s my favorite chef. What are these?”
“Cider donut bites.” I pop one in my mouth. “Eric and I had a competition to see who could make a better one, and he won. He’s always had a way with the sweet stuff. So we’re going with his recipe. Now you get to eat the rejects.”
“How thoughtful.” She reaches out and takes a small bite. “Wow, these are amazing; if these are the rejects, I can’t wait to taste the winners.”
“He does something fancy I still can’t pinpoint.” I shrug and drum my fingers on the table.
“Can I just say”—yup, I knew this was coming—“I’m so proud of you, Reid, for taking another shot at this. Dad’s been telling me all about the progress you’ve been making over the last month, and I took a sneak peek in the restaurant the other day. I can’t believe the transformation. The crew is working really hard.”
“They are, and I’m impressed, actually. They think we’ll be able to do the soft opening in just two months.”‘
“Seriously? Just two more months?” Mom’s eyes widen. “That’s . . . soon.”
“I’ve been putting in some work, and so has Rogan.”
“Well, he is the renovation expert in the family. That’s so wonderful. I can’t wait to see how everything comes together. Your dad is positively giddy.”
“Yeah, he’s been hugging me a lot lately. I’m guessing that’s his way of silently thanking me.”
“That and he’s a little heartbroken about you and Eve.”
“Jesus. So glad my siblings can keep a secret. Was it Brig?”
Mom brushes her graying hair off her shoulder. “He came racing into the house, looking for matches, the night he found out. Everything was closed, and he said he needed to light a cleansing candle.”
“Such a douche.” I chuckle, thinking about Brig’s panic and worry, his unwavering belief in the curse. I don’t think my breakup with Eve has anything to do with the curse, other than bad timing and falling for the wrong girl . . . at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
“He’s concerned, honey. We all are. You seemed to be so right for each other. What changed?”
I pat my mom’s hand. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“What doesn’t she need to worry about?” my dad asks, coming into the kitchen, freshly showered, his thinning hair combed to the side.
“What happened between him and Eve.”
“Oh, it’s quite the talk of the town, how they’re no longer a couple, especially since Eve went out the other night.”
I freeze, lungs seizing. Did I just hear that correctly? “What? She went out? Like girls’ night or out on a date? With who? Do you know who it was?”
A knowing smirk crosses my dad’s face as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a water bottle. “Not quite sure about the details, just that she went out on a date.”
Of course he doesn’t know the details but has no problem dropping a bomb like that without any sort of additional information. If you’re going to make a man keel over, at least have the decency to provide some details.
Was it a casual date? Someone I know? Someone I don’t like? Did they kiss?
Did they fuck?
I have an urge to punch a wall and throw up at the same time. Wow, that’s a new sensation.
“You might want to wipe that stricken look off your face because she’s going to be here any minute.”
“What? Why’s she coming here?” My heart rate kicks into overdrive as I try to grasp this barrage of new information.
The doorbell rings, and I swear to Christ, my balls jump up inside my stomach. She’s here, and I’m supposed to act normal?
“She’s here for training,” Dad calls over his shoulder as he walks down the hall. I hear the door open and then, “Eve, come on in. We’ll hang out in the kitchen.”
“Sounds great.” Her sweet voice echoes down the hall.
I attempt to stand, but Mom digs her claws into my leg, pushing me down. I love my mom, but I’m pretty sure she’s working for the devil. “Tell me, sweetie, what kind of spices did you use in these donuts?” She barely gets the words out before Dad and Eve walk into the kitchen.
She looks so goddamn beautiful it hurts in a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a green sweater that highlights her hazel eyes. Her hair is styled in waves, loosely hanging over her shoulders.
I can feel my mouth gape open at the sight of her. It’s not like I don’t see her every week at the restaurant, but lately, she’s been showing up either after or before me. We’ve been skirting each other, and I haven’t been in the same room as her for a while.
Why the fuck did I have to bring those donuts to my parents’ house? Because seeing Eve now, looking positively breathtaking . . . well. It’s unraveling any resolve I had left in me.
“Hey, Reid,” Eve says casually as she follows my dad to the table and takes a seat beside me.
“Uh, hey, Eve. How’s it going?” This is painful. Painful to watch, painful to be a part of.
“Great. Thanks. Oooh, are these Eric’s cider bites?”
“Reid’s, actually,” my mom says. “Apparently not as good as your brother’s.”
Eve pops one in her mouth, and her nose crinkles as she nods. “Yeah, definitely not as good.”
Well . . . damn, they’re not that bad. They’re not as moist and fluffy as Eric’s, but they’re still pretty tasty.
“Are you staying for training?” Eve asks me as she starts to set her notebooks and pens out on the table.
“No, just dropping off donuts.”
“Oh, Clint, before you get started, can you help me with something in our bedroom?” Mom asks.
“Can Reid help you?” Dad replies, bringing Eve a water bottle. “Eve and I have a lot to go over.”
“No . . . it’s . . . in the bedroom.”
“Oh.” He chuckles, so oblivious sometimes, and then takes my mom’s hand as they go up the stairs, leaving me alone with Eve.
Needs help with something in the bedroom—yeah . . . okay, Mom. Insert giant eye roll here. She just wanted us to be alone, and guess what? I’m going to take advantage of it.
Spinning in my chair, I waste no time. “You went on a date the other night?”
From a little pouch, she takes out a pen and clicks it a few times before saying, “Yup.”
Wow, not even going to dance around it.
“So just like that, you’re going to start dating people?”
She tips her head to the side and gives me a slow once-over. “Well, we aren’t dating, so that means I can date anyone I want.”
“And who is this someone? Is it Tracker? I will fucking kill him if it’s Tracker. Is it him?”
“Reid, this shade of green really isn’t attractive on you.”
“Just tell me if it was fucking Tracker.”
“Frankly, it’s none of your business.” She must hear me grind my teeth because she adds, “But just to ease the little tic in your jaw, it’s not Tracker.”
That does nothing to ease the tic—it only makes me wonder who else it could be.
“Oliver? Jake? Krew?”
“Krew? Over at the hardware store? No, but he is one tasty dish.”
“Eve,” I warn.
“What’s wrong, Reid? Weren’t you the one who wanted to split up? You can’t possibly be mad about this, right? Because that would be absolutely ridiculous.”
I lean toward her. “Are you dating to get under my skin? Is that what this is all about?”
She rolls her eyes. “I have better things to do with my life than try to get under your skin. I have a life, Reid, and unlike you, I plan on living mine to the fullest.” She puts on a smile. “Now, is there any business you want to go over before your dad and I start training? Any pressing restaurant matters that need to be addressed?”
No, she’s taken care of everything because she’s so goddamn perfect. The promo—including all graphics—the budget, the early start on staff interest, the tedious paperwork: she’s be
en on top of every single task that’s been put in front of her. But instead of pointing that out, I say, “Yeah, new policy: while the restaurant is being put together, we all have to be celibate.”
She laughs, her head dropping back a few inches, exposing her neck. “Okay, Reid.” She slaps me on the back as if we’re old pals rather than exes. “Good one.”
Heat scorches my face, lighting up my cheeks as I lean in closer and whisper, “Are you having sex?”
Before she can respond, my mom and dad walk into the kitchen hand in hand with giant smiles on their faces. I glance over at Eve, who has the same smile passing over her seductive mouth. Great. Glad everyone is so fucking happy around me because I’m pretty sure I’m about to jump into the harbor—with weights on my legs.
“Why do you keep looking out the window?” Brig asks. “I didn’t even invite you over, and now you’re ignoring me. That’s fucking rude, man.” He knocks me in the arm. “Your soup is getting cold, and I worked hard on that shit.”
“You put too much salt in it,” I say, still peering through the blinds.
“The fuck I did. Your snobby taste buds just can’t stand the fact that I’m actually good at cooking.”
I snap the blinds shut and look over my shoulder. “You made a kale-and-bacon soup from scratch. It’s actually really gross. I was being nice with the salt comment.”
He shakes his head. “You will just take any chance you can get to cut me down, won’t you? Trust me,” he says, jabbing his finger on the table, “if I showed this to Eric, he’d be asking for the recipe.”
I turn back to the window. “Give me a Tupperware full of it, and I’ll pass it along.”
“Oh, nice try. You would tamper with it before he even got a shot to try. No fucking way. I say we have a blind soup-off. My kale-bacon soup against your vegetable soup that you think is so goddamn delightful. See which one people like better.”
“One hundred percent mine without a doubt, no questions asked. Don’t embarrass yourself, Brig.”
He huffs behind me and mutters something I can’t quite make out, but I really don’t care. I’m on watch. I heard from Rogan, who heard from Harper, that Eve was going out on a date tonight, two weeks after her last one—first guy must not have been a winner—and they were going to go to Franklin’s for a sandwich. So fucking lame. Taking Eve Roberts out on a date to Franklin’s, who does—
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