I wasn’t sure what was happening between us at all. She hadn’t cooked dinner for three nights, and it didn’t seem like she was going to visit Friday night, either. I wondered if she had taken up another job, and if she did, how much of a pay cut she had taken just to avoid seeing me. The notion of that really stung.
I got ready for the day long after waking and checked in on Abby. She was sleeping soundly in her room, a sight that I wasn’t quite used to. I quietly walked to the kitchen and started breakfast, and soon the house was filled with the warm scent of cinnamon and apple waffles and sausages.
Abby came downstairs at the exact time I expected her, as soon as I was done setting breakfast on the table.
“Smells good, Daddy,” she mumbled and sat at the head of the table. I pushed her chair forward so she could reach her plate.
“Thanks, baby,” I said taking my seat. I unfolded a napkin and placed it in front of her, then I lay one across my lap. I cut my waffles and dragged a forkful through the cinnamon and apple sauce before stuffing the large bite into my mouth. Abby glanced at me.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked. She realized earlier in the week that I wasn’t in a good mood, but I couldn’t tell her that Everly had ghosted me, so I told her I was sick. Still, a part of me felt that Abby knew there was something wrong; I just didn’t want to talk about it with her.
“A little, yeah,” I said. “I’ll be okay though, don’t worry. I just have a busy couple of weeks at the restaurants, and there’s talk of another possible location for a new restaurant. I just haven’t had the chance to think about it.”
Abby nodded as if she understood every word. It was one of the many reasons why I adored her.
“Is Everly better?” Abby asked. I sat my fork on the plate and absentmindedly stabbed the sausages with a knife.
“A little,” I said. I hated lying to her, but this wasn’t an appropriate topic for a toddler. The minutes stretched out in silence as we ate, and she soon pushed her plate forward, a half-eaten waffle lay lonely on the plate. “Are you finished?” I asked. Abby stuffed one more piece of waffle in her mouth before nodding. “Go get dressed and brush your teeth so we can go to Uncle Nick’s, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said and hopped off the chair. She left toward the stairs, and 15 minutes later returned with a minty smile and a summer blue dress that made her eyes pop much brighter. I patted her head and gave her a Ziploc bag of waffles and sausages. “Your Uncle Nick would starve without us,” I said, and she giggled.
We arrived at Nick’s shortly afterward. Abby threw the bag of waffles in his arms and retreated to the living room, where a new empty canvas waited.
“She wanted to start a new one immediately,” Nick said as we watched her pick out her colors. “She wants to give this one to Everly.” Nick’s tone didn’t hide his distaste for Everly or what had happened. “Have you talked to her since then?”
“No,” I shook my head. “She hasn’t answered her phone once, and she isn’t texting me. I think I really screwed this one up.”
Nick shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what to say, man. I mean, you didn’t screw anything up. It was bound to happen. Abby asked me the other week what do moms and daughters do.”
“She did? Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“It seemed like an innocent question; I don’t know. I figured she was just curious,” he said. Nick’s expression was enough to know that he wanted more than anything to say he told me so, but it seemed he was trying to take the high road.
“I don’t know what to do.” I rubbed a hand over my head. “I’m thinking maybe I should just leave her be.” Just saying the words stabbed a knife through my heart. I didn’t know how I was going to get over her.
“How much does she mean to you?” Nick asked. I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “I mean; does she really mean this much to you?”
I watched as Abby dipped her finger into paint and traced lines on the paper. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Nick had said her new painting was for Everly, and I wished more than anything Everly would be around for her to give it to her. Not just that, but I wished Everly would just answer the damn phone.
“Does that matter?” I asked. “However I feel about her, it doesn’t change what happened or what she wants. Maybe this is too much for her.”
“You’ll never know unless you try,” Nick said. “Listen, if she really means that much to you, then you need to go try and get her back. Talk to her, explain that Abby is three, for Christ’s sake and that 3-year-olds don’t understand what they’re doing. Tell her you’re not just looking for a baby mama; you’re looking for your soulmate.”
“You’re damn poetic today,” I said. Nick chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll think about it, but I don’t know if she’ll even want to see me.”
“Just try, man,” Nick said. “See what happens. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I said goodbye to Nick and Abby and then walked out to my car. My phone chimed, and I unlocked it to see Jackie calling me. I groaned, opening the car door, and then threw it onto the passenger seat.
Of course, Everly wasn’t calling me. She hadn’t so far, and I was certain she didn't want to see me either. I was a fool for hoping otherwise.
I arrived at Alaskan Way not long after, and entered through the front. Bright, cheerful smiles greeted me as I walked through the restaurant. I made my rounds from table to table and introduced myself to the guests, forcing a smile on my face each time I saw someone eating our newest dish.
“You couldn’t have ordered a better entrée,” I said to one in particular. “We just launched it today; what do you think?” I asked another.
“It’s delicious,” they answered. “I’ve never had anything like it.”
“Great, thanks for coming,” I patted their shoulder and moved on to the next table. This was usually my favorite part, greeting guests and introducing myself as the restaurant’s owner. Every now and then I’d find a table or two to comp or a couple to send an extra special dessert to, but today, I just wasn’t feeling it.
“Maddox!” James, an older chef who had been working for me for years now, perked up as I entered the kitchen. Bright white walls with silver appliances lined the floor, and at least two dozen cooks rushed from section to section as they prepared meals and plated entrees.
“Hey, Jim, how’s the day going?” I asked. He shook my hand and gestured at the five plates of our new dish waiting to be sent out to the floor.
“It’s a hit, Maddox. Everyone loves it.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder.
“Congratulations on the new dish!” another cook said from behind us. I thanked her politely and said my goodbyes to Jim. Everywhere I went I received compliments on the sea bass, but I found myself going through the motions until I finally arrived at my office. I was grateful for all of the kind words, of course, but I just couldn’t keep Everly out of my head.
My phone was on the highest volume, and it still hadn’t gone off. I was hopeful that she’d call and suggest a new meal for tonight, but the longer the day stretched, the worse the odds became. I sat down at my desk and worked on some files to kill the time and attempted to forget about Everly, but it was useless. She was on my mind as if she’d been surgically implanted, and there was no hope for a reversal. Only time could heal me now unless I gave in and went to her.
After a few hours of mindless work, I did another round on the floor and shook hands with guests. The sea bass was an even bigger hit with the dinner crowd than it had been with the lunch rush, and already I knew our numbers were going to skyrocket. I thanked a man and his wife as they declared the entree their new favorite from my restaurant, but in my head, I was just wishing that Everly could hear how much everyone loved her creation.
She deserved all the credit, not me.
I returned to my office and sat. My feet and legs were sore from walking around for hours, and I pulled out another folder and tr
ied paying attention to the contracts that Jackie had been begging me to sign for weeks. The words blurred until they made little sense, and I tried to focus. Getting any decent amount of work done was proving to be a problem.
“Mr. Moore?” Clarissa, one of my assistants, stood at the doorway.
“Yes?” I glanced at her and back at the file. I needed to get something done before leaving for the day.
“You have a visitor,” she said. I perked up, a part of me hoping and believing it was Everly.
“Oh? Who?” I asked.
“He said he used to work with you?” She moved over, and another man came into focus.
“You don’t have to introduce me,” he said. I recognized him instantly: Phil, my old friend, and Everly’s old boss. I waved off Clarissa and invited Phil into my office.
“You can shut the door behind you if you want,” I said.
“Oh, I’m not staying that long,” Phil said. “I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to see how you were doing? I haven’t been to this one since you opened.”
I remembered seeing Phil at Alaskan Way’s opening party, a beer in each hand and women curved in his arms.
“A night to remember,” I smirked. “I’m doing fine; we just launched a new dish today, so numbers should be up for a while. What about you?” I asked. “How’s Saint Padres?”
He tugged at his collar. “The damn place is sucking the life out of me,” he said.
“So, nothing’s changed?” I said with a smirk. Phil chuckled, and I realized he’d had one too many glasses of wine as he stumbled over his words.
“I had a little of fun this week, at least. Managed to snatch one of my old cooks back from wherever the hell she thought she was going,” he said and plopped into the seat across from my desk. I leaned forward.
“Oh? And who was this cook?” I asked.
“The redhead from the auction. I’m sorry you ever had to go on a date with her. Anyways, she’s not bad in the kitchen. She quit a while ago saying she had something better lined up, but the other week I offered her the bullshit title of co-head chef, and the dumb broad took up my offer the other day! Can you believe it? I don’t even have to pay her as much as I was paying her before, because the co-chef job is a starting position with a starting wage. She barely even questioned it; she must have been desperate.” Phil boasted and wiped his brow. I realized I was squeezing my pen tightly in my fist as he went on about Everly.
“You have a way with words,” I said through clenched teeth. I forced myself to take deep, calm breaths, or else I was going to push Phil and dunk his face into a fryer.
“Well, all’s good now. I don’t have to worry about hiring anyone else.” Phil stood. “I’m done for the day. You should take it easy, you know? Your blood pressure looks like it might be through the roof.”
We spoke for a few more minutes, shooting the shit until the conversation grew awkward. He left without a goodbye, and I was oddly thankful for it.
So, I was right. Everly did find another job, and it was at her old restaurant. I had always known Phil to be an asshole, and never liked him for it, but hearing him speak about Everly that way made such a fury and anger boil inside of me that I hadn’t known I was capable of. I wanted to grab him by his cheap collar and throw him against the wall, but I realized I had a better plan.
If I couldn’t convince Everly to give me and Abby a chance, the least I could do was help her realize she deserved more than Saint Padres.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Everly
It had been three days since I called Phil and took up his offer of co-chef, and I still wasn’t sure if I’d made the right decision or not. Phil had seemed far too eager as we spoke on the phone, and we agreed on starting my position the following Monday. I woke on my first day with an upset stomach that made me question even more if I had made a mistake, but it was too late.
I lay in bed and thought about Maddox, as always. I swore that I heard his voice in my sleep, that I felt his hands roam my body as they slipped off my panties and touched me. It had only been a week, and yet I missed him. I missed our conversations, sharing our dreams and passions and telling stories about our loved ones. He had awoken something in me, a desire to partner with someone else. I had gone through my whole life as a loner, always refusing to work in groups of two. But I loved cooking with Maddox, and I loved how he made me feel.
I was growing more and more frustrated as well. I touched myself often, but nothing ever compared to his touch. I slipped a finger inside of me and tried pretending it was his finger, but it was useless. Maddox was intoxicating, and there was no substitute.
I slipped out of bed after realizing there was no point in moping around any longer and brushed my teeth. A quick shower and 20 minutes of makeup later, I was in my kitchen debating on what to make for breakfast. Lacey had left a text saying they would be over around 7:30, which gave me 20 minutes to decide on a meal. I wasn’t feeling up to making the usual egg and bacon combination, and I scoured my pantries for ideas.
Lacey and Belle arrived early for breakfast, and I decided to make something special for the occasion. Homemade nutmeg cinnamon rolls with butterscotch cream cheese and fresh strawberry scones half dipped in chocolate was an easy and yet complicated creation, and I savored every second of the process. I made a side of bacon just in case they didn’t turn out good, though.
“There’s nothing nutritious about any of this,” Lacey said as she eyed the kitchen counter. My apartment had the richest scent of chocolate and cinnamon, and I picked up a scone and bit into it. Crumbs fell from my lips onto the floor, but I couldn’t bring myself to clean them. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other than cook.
“That’s the point.” I smiled as Belle picked up a cinnamon roll and tore a piece into her mouth. “What do you think?”
“So good!” she said between bites. “The scones are my favorite!”
“Good, I made three whole batches so you and your mom can take them home,” I said.
“Well, aren’t you in a cooking mood?” Lacey noted. I ignored her, but she was right. It had been a week since I last cooked dinner for Maddox, and within that week I had resorted to quick and simple dinners for one. I missed cooking fancy meals, and was somewhat excited to get back into a professional kitchen.
“I guess,” I said.
“Everly, you always go cooking crazy when you’re anxious or depressed,” Lacey folded her arms across her chest and met my eyes. “So, which one is it now?”
I frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.” I realized I was staring inside the fridge trying to find ingredients for chocolate chip and almond butter cookies. I closed it before Lacey could realize what I was doing.
“When you failed your first course in college, our house was full of Cuban sandwiches and fried bananas for weeks,” she said. “And when your first boyfriend dumped you, you made miniature chicken pot pies, and we had to give them away to our neighbors because they wouldn’t fit in the fridge.”
“I’m just happy that I got my job back,” I lied.
“Your made-up job?” Lacey asked. I nearly forgot I had told her that co-chefs didn’t exist.
“I know it’s a bullshit title, but you never know; this could be my step to being the head chef. Just another year or so and I’ll have that chef hat,” I said.
“You realized you said those exact words every day when you were working there.” Lacey pointed out. I shrugged and started cleaning up the kitchen. “But if you’re happy, then I’m happy.” Lacey smiled at me, but it was obvious to even the 5-year-old in the room that it was fake and forced. I knew Lacey wasn’t happy for me, but I didn’t have any other choices. I needed a job, and I had ghosted Maddox way too long to even assume that I still had one there.
That was another mistake that Lacey made sure I didn’t forget.
“We’ll drop these off at home on our way to kindergarten,” Lacey said as Belle bagged up the leftovers. “Don’t want any oth
er 5-year-olds to get an allergic reaction.”
“Thank you for the cinnamon rolls and scones, Aunt Everly,” Belle said politely. Lacey held a hand over her heart and smiled as her daughter proved herself to be the little polite version of us.
“You’re welcome,” I said and hugged her. I couldn’t believe there was a time that I had disliked Belle’s presence.
“Call me when you’re off work,” Lacey said, and I agreed. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty to bitch about.”
“Who knows,” I said. “It might not be that bad.” I hoped it wouldn’t be any different than before, but imagined that was wishful thinking.
Lacey rolled her eyes, and she closed the door behind her. I couldn’t blame her for being wary about me going back to Saint Padres, but I was being serious. I had dedicated years to that restaurant, and maybe it was going to start paying off. Maybe things were going to start going my way for once in my life.
Parking at Saint Padres was just as awful as ever. A couple blocks away from the actual restaurant with tight parking spaces that it seemed nearly impossible to not hit anyone when parking in them, but in a weird way, I almost felt at home. Maybe the weeks spent with Maddox were nothing more than a silly dream. Maybe Maddox himself was little more than a dream as well.
I clutched my purse to my body and battled through the thick Seattle wind, and I hurried down the blocks toward Saint Padres. The kitchen still had a few hours before officially opening, and I wanted to make sure I was there early enough to discuss the details of my position before fully embracing it. Catalina caught my arm as I entered the kitchen, and she hugged me tightly.
“Chica! I didn’t think I’d see you again!” she said. Her smile was contagious, and I found myself sharing a giggle as I approached. “There was a rumor that you had fallen in love with some rich playboy and gotten married. Someone even mentioned they thought you were pregnant.”
I choked on my words.
“No.” I shook my head and clutched my chest. “Not married, and definitely not pregnant.”
Daddy Boss (A Boss Romance Love Story) Page 44