Flavor of the Month

by Georgia Beers

  “Oh, absolutely.” Charlie took a seat. “But just the one. My interview is first thing and I want to be sharp.”

  “They already love you, so you’re in good shape to start with. I wouldn’t worry.” Lily sat, too. “Though not showing up hungover would probably get you points.”

  “You think?” They laughed together and sipped their wine. Charlie looked around. “This place is so cool.”

  “It can be kind of touristy, but I love it.” Lily was also from a small town. Hers was in upstate New York, and they’d bonded in college over that commonality. They took a moment to bask in their environment before Lily reached over to pat her thigh. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She was glad to be there. But she had so many other emotions rolling through her head, through her heart, that she found it hard to be excited, to be as giddy as Lily seemed to be. Guilt sauntered in and sat on her shoulders.

  The waiter came and took their salad orders. “So, your interview is at nine?” Lily asked when he’d left.

  “Yep. And thank you for the hotel recommendation. I’m just a block from the office, so I’ll be able to walk, barring any horrifying weather.”

  “You’ll be fine. No rain tomorrow. Just humidity. But at nine, you should still be okay.”

  “You mean I won’t be a mess of frizzy hair and sweaty clothes?”

  “Not from the weather,” Lily joked. They spent the next half hour going over strategy, probable interview questions. Lily filled Charlie in on who would likely be sitting in on the interview, what they were like, what she could expect. They were almost finished with their salads. Lily had moved on to a second glass of wine while Charlie stuck with water, and she took a sip. “You seem”—Lily squinted at her as if trying to find exactly the right descriptor—“low key. You seem low key. Are you just tired? Nervous? Something else?”

  Charlie sat there quietly for what felt like a long while. She’d known Lily for years now. They’d roomed together, they’d always been open with each other, and there was love. Definite love. Charlie would do anything for Lily, and she knew the reverse was also true. Finally, she took a deep breath and answered her friend. “Yes, I’m tired. Yes, I’m nervous. Yes, I’m something else.”

  Lily gave a nod. “Interesting. Okay, let’s talk about the something else. A girl? The girl?” Charlie was gobsmacked, and it must have showed, because Lily chuckled. “Come on, Chuck. I know you. Talk to me.”

  And Charlie did. She didn’t so much talk as spew. Dump. Pour. Open the locks. Smash the levees. Again. It occurred to her in the midst of it that she’d needed this. She’d needed to talk to somebody about it all because she really hadn’t. Bits and pieces to people here and there, but she hadn’t laid it all out for one person who knew her well. So that’s what she did. She told Lily everything. From the beginning, even the stuff she already knew. She ended with Emma’s exit from the bakery after she had told her about the interview.

  “What do you think she came over to say?” Lily asked. Leaning over the table toward Charlie, she’d been riveted.

  With a sigh, Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. Well. Not for sure.” She let herself drift back to that moment, when she’d been sure Emma had come over to let her down easy, tell her everything they’d done had been fun, but it had to stop. Emma’d said she was sorry, and Charlie had jumped to that conclusion, and then Emma had said that wasn’t what she was sorry about.

  “Then what was she sorry about?” Lily asked.

  Charlie fell back in her chair and groaned dramatically. “I don’t know, that we hadn’t talked sooner? I had just found out about the interview and I was so wired, and I blurted it out before she could finish.”

  Lily’s entire face fell. “Seriously? You interrupted her? In the middle of that?”

  “I was freaking out.” Her shoulders slumped, and she frowned. “Selfish Charlie strikes again.”

  “I don’t know that I’d say that.” Lily gestured for the waiter and ordered two more glasses of wine.

  Charlie didn’t protest, as she decided she could use some more alcohol to dull the realization that she’d been an idiot. Again.

  “Okay, but there’s one thing you haven’t told me through all of this.” Lily looked at her, eye contact intense.

  “What’s that?”

  “How do you feel about everything? What do you think? And more importantly, what do you want?”

  Charlie blinked. Blinked again. “I…” She blinked some more as a strange realization hit her. “You know, I’ve been so conscious of my past—I don’t want to say behavior, but my past decisions that…” She inhaled as she looked off into the middle distance, thoughts chugging through her head.

  “You decided you weren’t allowed to think about what you wanted, didn’t you?” Soft and gentle. That was Lily’s voice in that moment, like she was afraid of hitting Charlie too hard with her words.

  “I guess I just…” She looked up into Lily’s concerned eyes as the waiter dropped off their wine. “Yeah. I did. I hurt so many people with the decisions I made that I’m terrified of doing that again.” She picked up her glass and took a healthy swig.

  “All right. Listen to me.” Lily sat up straight, her posture shouting I mean business here. “How long will you beat yourself up? You’re aware. You may have fucked up, but you know you did, and you feel bad about it, and you’re sorry, and you’ve taken responsibility. That’s a big deal. And PS, we’ll revisit the whole fucking-up thing at another time because I don’t believe that’s what you did. But for now, remember this: everybody fucks up in life. Multiple times. I mean, it is part of life, after all. You’re not that special.” Lily winked as she sipped.

  Charlie nodded, watched a young couple stroll by pushing a stroller with a sleeping infant.

  “Charlie?”

  “Hmm?”

  Lily didn’t so much look at her as look into her. It wasn’t until she seemed sure she had every last ounce of Charlie’s attention that she asked her question. “What do you want? What is it that you really want?”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  There were quite a few reservations for a Monday, and for that, Emma was grateful. It would keep her busy, and that’s what she needed right now. To be busy. To have her hands and, more importantly, her brain completely occupied by something other than the past month of her life. Seriously, how much stress was one person supposed to take?

  She shook her head as she used a giant spoon to stir the tomato sauce on the stove. Tonight’s special was lasagna, and she’d started her homemade sauce at noon, keeping it simmering, low and slow, so all the flavors would meld. Unlike the last time she made it, she remembered to make a small batch that didn’t contain any meat, as having vegetarian options on her menu was becoming more and more important. Therefore, a second smaller pot also simmered on the stove, and she would make a second pan of lasagna that didn’t contain ground beef or pork. It would sell.

  Charlie loved her lasagna.

  Emma groaned loudly at the intrusive thought. Her brain had been doing that to her since she left the bakery a couple days ago, knowing Charlie was headed to Boston for an interview and likely wouldn’t be back longer than the time it took her to pick up her things. She’d spent her weekend trying to reconcile that, to accept it. It had been a whirlwind of a summer, and they’d run the gamut of emotion. Between their initial re-meeting, the barbecue, Emma’s father’s death and the subsequent trip to Nashville, and the night they’d spent together, they’d been all over the damn place.

  The sauce tasted divine. When Alec arrived in a few minutes, she’d have him taste it, just to be sure, but she was pretty confident. She set a third pot on the stove filled with water so she could cook the pasta and construct the lasagnas to bake in another hour or two.

  Thank God for her restaurant. Thank God for her ability to lose herself in her cooking. Emma wasn’t sure how she’d survive otherwise. If she didn’t have recipes to c
reate or meat to tenderize or fresh vegetables to shop for? If she had spare hours in the day for simply thinking? Being lost in her own head? No. No way. She’d go nuts. They’d have to lock her up and throw away the key. When life was all too much—and it could be so, she knew from experience, case in point: the past month—all she had to do was submerge herself in food. Her job was what kept her sane, and she would be forever grateful for that.

  An hour later, Alec was in and had given the sauce two thumbs-up, three large pans of lasagna had been constructed and were waiting to be baked, and Emma slipped out into the dining area to give herself a break and grab some much-needed caffeine from the bar. As she was squirting some Diet Coke into a glass filled to the brim with ice, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Probably her mom.

  With a sigh, she set down her drink and slipped the phone out, stopping dead when she saw the screen.

  Charlie.

  She could ignore it. She was a pro at dodging calls. Just ask Sabrina. She could let it go to voice mail, though Charlie might not leave a message. But then she’d text and the idea of endless texts showing up on her phone made Emma instantly feel weighed down.

  She groaned.

  “Might as well get it over with,” she grumbled, then hit the green button. “Hey.”

  “Hi. It’s Charlie.”

  She nodded, even though Charlie couldn’t see her. “Yes, I know. I can read.” Okay, that was unnecessarily snarky. She closed her eyes. “How was the interview?” She didn’t really want to know but felt like she needed to be nice to make up for her snottiness. And then that annoyed her because what did she owe Charlie? Nothing, that’s what.

  “The interview went really, really well.” Charlie paused, and there was an odd quality to her voice that Emma couldn’t quite pinpoint. “They offered me the job.”

  Emma’s stomach dropped. But why? Why did it drop? This was exactly what she predicted would happen. Charlie would be offered a job in Boston and that’s where she’d stay. It was no surprise. At all. Not even a little.

  So why did she feel like she was going to throw up?

  “Oh. Well. Wow. That’s great.” Air. She needed some air. Badly. Right now. Her body broke into a sweat and her stomach roiled sourly.

  “I turned it down.”

  Quickly, Emma made her way around the bar and nearly jogged toward the door. Why was it so hot in the dining room? Air. She needed air. As she pushed through the doors of EG’s, the words finally registered in her brain.

  “Wait. What?” Emma stopped dead on the sidewalk, blinking rapidly, sucking in oxygen, and trying to understand what Charlie had said. Reasonably sure she’d headed off the vomit monster, she swallowed and inhaled again, blinking, as her eyes focused on the car parked across the street. The car that had Charlie leaning casually against it, her jean-clad legs crossed at the ankle, her arms folded, one hand pressed to her ear.

  “I said I turned down the job.” She looked directly at Emma as she said it, and even from that distance, Emma could make out the trace of a hesitant smile.

  She simply stood there, her phone in her hand by her side. Staring at Charlie. Absorbing what her words meant. Charlie had also abandoned the call, and then they were both standing. Both staring across the not-very-busy street. Finally, Emma pulled herself together, bolstered her courage, and threw caution to the wind.

  She crossed the street.

  “Hi,” Charlie said when Emma reached her.

  “You’re here.”

  “I am.”

  “What did you do?” she asked, her voice low, quiet. She still wasn’t sure what was happening. She had an idea, but it terrified her, and she wanted to duck down behind the car and hide.

  “I had an epiphany.”

  She squinted at Charlie. “What does that mean?”

  Charlie toed the asphalt with the tip of her sandal and seemed to organize her thoughts before she gave voice to them. “I’ve been confused and lost for a really long time, Emma.” She glanced up, held up a hand to prevent Emma from interrupting, but she’d had no intention of doing so. No, she wanted to hear this. Very much. “I know you may not necessarily agree with that. You may think it’s a flimsy excuse to make my horrific choices in life seem out of my control. Whatever. That’s okay. I accept that. Hell, I’d probably feel the same way if our roles were reversed.” Focusing on her feet once again, Charlie continued, “I was young, and I was naïve, and young, naïve people do stupid things. That being said, they were my poor decisions to make, and I’ve had to live through the consequences. Knowing I’ve hurt people. Knowing I’ve altered the way some people look at me.” With that line, she raised her face to meet Emma’s gaze, and Emma saw nothing but strength and sincerity in Charlie’s eyes. “I’ve grown. I’ve changed. I’ve learned so much about myself. And most of all, I’ve learned what’s important to me. I’ve learned exactly what it is that I want.” Charlie dropped her head back, eyes to the sky, and Emma couldn’t help but trace the line of Charlie’s throat with her eyes. “I lay in my hotel room last night and it was like a fog lifted. Like smoke cleared away and I could finally see everything just laid out before me. I saw my future, Emma.”

  Caught up. That’s how Emma was feeling. That’s what Charlie’s words had done. She was caught up and she couldn’t turn away now. She had to see it through, despite the white-hot fear that was coursing through her veins. Maybe she should’ve turned and run away as fast as she could. Maybe she should’ve laughed in Charlie’s face, told her to fuck off once and for all. Maybe she should’ve clamped her hands over her ears and sung loudly so she couldn’t hear any more of what Charlie had to say. But she did none of those things. Instead, she asked the question. God help her, she asked the question.

  “What’s your future, Charlotte?”

  The smile that lit up Charlie’s face then felt like magic. Like sunshine. Like hope. “You, Emma Grier. You are my future.” She reached out a hand, laid her palm against Emma’s cheek, and the love on her face was deep and clear and so genuine, it brought tears to Emma’s eyes. “I’ve always known it. Since the very first time we kissed, I’ve known it. I don’t know why I fought it, but I’m done with that. I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I will regret that for the rest of my life.”

  The solid lump that parked itself in Emma’s throat seemed to have no intention of moving, and she swallowed hard but couldn’t seem to form words yet. Could this be? Was it really happening?

  “I know that this is a lot,” Charlie said, her expression shifting from slight dreamy to much more serious. “And I also know that you may not be on the same page as me. That I may have caused you to rip that page out and burn it, never to be read again. That this all may be too little, too late. I know that. Believe me, I know that. So there’s no pressure here. I’m not asking for anything from you. I’m just telling you exactly what’s in my heart. For once.” The self-deprecating half grin, half grimace was the cutest thing Emma had seen in a long time. But then it morphed into a smile so bright and beautiful, it made her breath catch in her chest. “And what’s in my heart is you. Only you.”

  Emma still hadn’t spoken. But she stared. She looked at every aspect of Charlie’s face. The tiny scar on her left eyebrow that she got from falling off her bike when they were ten. The soft, light down on her cheeks that Emma could only see because of the angle of the sun. Her gorgeous eyes and the love that so clearly shone from them. Yeah, that’s what got her. That’s what got Emma. The eyes. The love. It was so apparent, so obvious, that Emma would’ve sworn it radiated warmth. Warmth that encompassed her like a blanket. Like protective arms wrapped around her. It was something she hadn’t felt in…well, years. Since Charlie left for college. And it hit her now how much she’d actually missed it, like a punch to the gut.

  “I love you, Emma. I always have.” Clarity. Everything about Charlie then broadcast it. Her eyes. Her overall expression. Her gentle, tender smile. She was speaking from her heart, and she was speaking the tru
th. The very least Emma could do was the same, right?

  “My whole life, I’ve felt like an outsider,” she began, her voice quiet. “In school. In college. Even in my own house sometimes. I was always the different one, the odd one out.” She wet her lips and looked Charlie in the eye. “The only time I didn’t feel that way was when I was with you. With you, I just feel like me.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It took me a long time to get over you, Charlie. And when you breezed back into town, I realized that I actually hadn’t. I have spent much of your time here reminding myself of all the reasons you and I are a bad idea, and I’ve been able to come to only one conclusion. We’re not.”

  “We’re not,” Charlie agreed, shaking her head as her grin widened.

  “You wanna give this thing a shot?”

  “More than you can possibly know.” And then Charlie’s hands were holding her face and Charlie kissed her. Softly and sweetly and with such promise, and just like that, Emma’s worries seemed to burn away like early morning fog.

  “It won’t be easy.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. But it’ll be worth it.”

  “You think so?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “I like this version of you,” Emma said.

  “Yeah? Me, too.”

  She leaned in, kissed Charlie again. Deeply. Thoroughly. Could have kept at it endlessly until they heard “Hey, get a room!” from across the street. They parted and turned and there was Dani, sitting in her car, window rolled down, exaggeratedly ogling them until they both laughed.

  Charlie turned back to her. “Work meeting?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “No worries. I’ll go home and unpack, and then I need to talk to Sandy. I’ve got a business to help run, you know.”

  “You really are staying.” Emma’s chest swelled.