“Yes, Chef Sterling.”
“Thank you. Carry on.”
Those words unfreezing me, I return to my station to set about making the best damn strawberry cheesecake I can. My mind is riddled with thoughts of Jonas, decisions I have to make, and what this will mean if I let him in.
But still, the cheesecake sells out before ten. I get high fives from Elle, Abby, and Jerome as we continue to plate up more desserts until it’s time for me to leave. Chef Sterling smiles as I prepare to catch my train.
As the train rocks back and forth, I pull out my phone to text Jonas. I’m off for the next three days. Let me know when you’re free.
Without thinking twice, I press Send.
Chapter 11
Trina
“You’re never going to believe this.” Jonas storms through my front door the next evening carrying bags from the local Chinese takeout.
Before I can answer, Chris comes running over yelling, “Hi, Nono, Hi!” He latches onto Jonas’s leg.
“You obviously feel better, buddy. How about I put this down so your mom can sort it out?”
“Okay.” Chris races back to where he and Annie are playing swords with their stuffed animals. I eye the slightly rougher play for a moment before I gesture Jonas into the kitchen.
“I’m pretty certain the text you sent me said it all. No more deliveries from García’s due to the high volume. But you didn’t have to get Chinese, Jonas. I could have made something.”
He whirls on me like I’m in cahoots with García’s. “I said I’d bring dinner. I stood on the street outside the subway station on my damn phone looking up the best Chinese places. This place had 2,000 positive reviews. So, I’ll review it. They, too, only have limited seating.”
I quickly unpack the cartons of the delicious-smelling spices. “I’m not surprised, Jonas. Retail space is expensive. Why pay for seats when you can pay employees to run food to apartments?”
“That’s insane,” he splutters.
“That’s reality. Think of it this way.” I fold the bag and slide it under the sink. I think there’s a groan behind me, but I ignore it. “Most of the prime-facing places to rent in Manhattan for restaurant space are—” I twist and face him putting myself on level with an impressive view of my own that makes me have to take a deep breath before continuing. “—‘available upon request.’ That includes for a gallery kitchen with barstools. Does that give you the warm and fuzzies about what people are paying?”
“No, it doesn’t, but…” He trails off when I straighten, and I realize we’re so closely in each other’s space it would take nothing but a breath for us to be in each other’s arms. His eyes drop to my lips, and our conversation comes to a halt. Hunger, the kind you can’t satisfy with food, crawls inside.
I try to squash the feeling by asking, “Did you just get white rice for the kids? I have some other food for them, so I can mix it in.” I turn so my back is facing him and begin fiddling with boxes.
“No, I got them the hottest szechuan chicken on the menu.” He reaches over and stills my hands. “Trina…”
But just as he’s about to address the ridiculous tension between us, there’s a knock at my door. “Saved by the bell.”
“You don’t have one, but you’d better get that.” Jonas lets my hands go.
I walk over the few steps back to the front door. Peering out the peephole, I let my head fall forward. “Oh, God. Why do you have to do this to me?”
Jonas steps up behind me. “What? Who is it?”
“Brace yourself,” I warn him, before I fling the door open to Elle holding up a box of cheap wine.
“Girlfriend, you’d better be ready to spill all! The chat has been blowing up since yesterday. Boy, are you in trouble for not letting me know an ooey, gooey bite of dessert came to interview you for…” Elle pushes past me and comes face-to-face with Jonas. “Well, this certainly changes my plans for the evening, doesn’t it?”
“Aunt Elle!” This time it’s Annie racing down the hall. Then she catches sight of Jonas and changes directions. “Nono!” Confused, she stops, uncertain which to go to. Finally she gives up deciding and races back to the living room on her tiny legs, arms in the air, shrieking, “Chris!”
Elle, never being slow to catch on, reaches her hand out. “Hi, Nono. I’m Aunt Elle. Nice to meet you. It appears Trina hasn’t had a chance to catch me up on a few things.” The sizzling look my best friend gives me tells me I’m going to pay for this.
Jonas takes her hand. “Nice to meet you, Elle. Jonas Rice. Trina has mentioned you to me, though only in passing. If you two have standing plans, I can let you both enjoy the food and take my leave.”
Elle’s smile widens. “No, Jonas. Stay a while. It will prevent T and I from getting sick on this.” She shoves the box in his chest before moving into the living room with the comfort of a longtime friend. “Where’s my babies?”
Both of my children return to greet her with cries of “Aunt Elle!” Soon there’s shrieks that cover my apology, “I’m so sorry. I forgot we usually spend our first night off each week together.”
Critically examining the box, he proclaims, “Apparently trying to rid the lining of your stomachs of a few layers. Jesus, I think the last time I drank this stuff was college, and it was crap back then.”
I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter when Elle yells, “You don’t want to know how much we drank the night Trina got canned, then! A spoonful of sugar helps that swig go down with less puking. Trust me, we’re experts.”
Jonas sighs when I move past him into the kitchen to pull another plate off the stack the Chinese place so helpfully provided. “I take it there’s no secrets between the two of you.”
“None whatsoever,” I assure him.
“Especially since the night we found out our guys were together! And I do mean that in every way your mind can imagine it. Bonds sisters over misters together in a whole new way. Umph, Chris, I swear you’re getting bigger every day,” Elle huffs out.
“The walls are very thin inside the apartment,” I explain, but Jonas turns me to face him. His face has lost all of its humor. Mentally, I sigh, knowing this is where the light flirtation ends. “Ask away,” I say dully.
“What Elle said, was it true?” The chocolate of his eyes is scorching. If I was working with it, I’d cast it out and start over, I think idly. “Trina.” Jonas grabs my arms and shakes me lightly.
“Yes,” I burst out. “And even though he didn’t want me, Will wanted to give Erik my babies. How. Dare. He? They used Elle, used me, all while having an affair with each other. And do you know what? I don’t care what it cost me in lawyer’s fees. I’d do it again to fight to keep my children when their father didn’t want them to begin with. Because that’s what a mother does—she lays down her damn soul to give everything to her child.” I’m breathing hard by the time I finish.
Maybe that’s why I don’t realize Jonas has sunk one hand into my hair and is tipping my jaw up with the other. “The first time I saw you, I saw all this fire burning inside of you. I was infuriated Spencer was trying to put it out and I didn’t have the chance to touch it. The second time, you threw your attitude in my face and walked away. Now it’s right here—what am I supposed to do about it?” His head starts to lower even as he continues to stroke my jaw.
But just as his lips are about to meet mine, I hear, “Mama, hungry!” in the distance. “Jesus, what am I doing? I have to get the kids fed.” I spin around and grab the counter.
“Yeah.” Jonas steps back. “Why don’t I tell you what I got? Then we can figure out what to plate up?”
“That sounds good.” I’m so lying. What sounds better than the luxury of takeout Chinese is finding out what Jonas Rice tastes like because I suspect it’s better than anything I’m about to serve up for dinner.
When I face him, I suspect he feels the same way judging by the flush riding high on his cheeks.
Softly, I tell us both, “It�
�s going to be a long night.”
Then I laugh when Elle yells, “I bet some wine would help with that!”
“Let me see that receipt.” Now Jonas has left and Annie and Chris are down, Elle and I have begun our weekly ritual of decimating the box of wine, though we’re moving at a much slower pace than usual.
“Why? An attractive single man bought dinner. What’s the big deal?” she asks before flicking it in my direction.
“We made a deal. He’s on a strict budget.”
Elle howls. “For how long?”
I think back to what I first said to Jonas. “I think I told him he couldn’t live on a budget like mine for a month.”
“Did you give him…” Elle’s laughing so hard she has to hand me her glass. “Numbers and shit?”
“I did. Oh, God, Elle, I was such a twat.” I bury my head in my arms, still holding her drink steady. “And a week later, he showed up to apologize and ended up being committed to learn about how someone in our position lived.” At her sputtering, I finish, “For the article.”
“So, let me get this straight. Jonas Rice—who is as damn fine as the rumor mill says—lets you blast him.”
“I didn’t say that.” I lift my head and frown at her.
Her smile turns wicked. “I know. Baptiste did.”
“Arghhh!” I flop back. I immediately take a drink.
Snagging her own drink back, Elle waves it as she makes her point. “The thing is, T, he would have just walked away and gone on to write his reviews without a care if what you said didn’t matter—if you didn’t matter. So, tell me why you’re not giving this a chance? I know he almost kissed you earlier. As much as I love him, I almost wanted to squash Chris.”
“Maybe I don’t deserve to have a relationship.” Before Elle can clonk me on the head with her now empty glass, I remind her, “I have to put Chris and Annie first. Always.”
“And somehow, in the millions of whacked-out guys in this city, I think you managed to find one who understands that,” Elle retorts. “Look at the receipt, really read it. And I don’t just mean the amount.”
Plucking the receipt from where it’s drifted between us, I scan it from the top where I see the dishes Jonas, Elle, and I put a hurting on earlier. Then I pause because beneath the words Orange Chicken, it says, No seasoning. No onions. No sauce. No peppers. No pineapple. Children prep. And my heart takes complete control over my mind.
Without a word to Elle, I reach up and grab my cell phone off the shelf. Finding the text Jonas sent to me, I press Audio and hold the phone up to my ear. It rings once, twice. Then, his voice comes through. “Is everything okay, Trina? The kids?”
“You realize you’re coming perilously close to going over budget for your food budget? Aren’t you lucky we get paid tomorrow?” Elle groans next to me while Jonas laughs in my ear.
“I knew there was something I forgot to do. Busted,” he says mildly. But his voice doesn’t sound the least bit upset. Instead, I hear the clickety-clack of his fingers moving across a keyboard.
“Writing up your review?” I hold out my cup to Elle, who rolls her eyes but hops off the couch to go get us more wine.
“Yep. Do I need to ding them for not making the kids’ food right?”
“No, it was perfect. Almost everything about tonight was.”
He clears his throat. “Almost?”
My lips curve into a wide smile. “Any plans for tomorrow?”
“Not a damn thing that can’t be rearranged. What did you have in mind?”
“I thought you might want to join us at the farmer’s market—me and the kids. Not Elle. It’s one of their favorite places to go. I mean, Elle loves it too, but it would just be the three of us. Well, the four of us if you come. Come along, that is.” Gah, I must sound like I’m asking my high school crush out by the way Elle’s making big winky faces and giving me a double thumbs-up from the entry to the kitchen. Flicking her off, I pick at an imaginary spot on my bedspread.
“Are you by chance asking me to go out on a date, Trina? With you and your kids?” Jonas asks me seriously.
“Well…I mean…that is…”
“Because it sounds like fun.”
“Oh, thank God.” The words burst out of me.
“Trina?”
“Yes, Jonas?”
“Do I get to tell you all bets are off when we’re on a date?”
“What do you mean?”
“It means one of these days I want to be able to be able to take you out and not worry if you’re more concerned about the menu or the man across from you at the table.” His voice is serious.
My breathing becomes shallow. “Give me time. Trust is difficult.”
“After what you shared tonight, I understand.”
I twirl a lock of loose hair around my finger as Elle plops back down on the daybed. “So, how does eleven sound?”
“It sounds perfect. Is Elle still there?”
“She normally stays over.” I hear his, “Lucky,” and I tip my head back before letting my eyes drift shut. When I do, I call up the image of his face just as Jonas was about to kiss me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jonas,” I whisper. “I’ll text you the address. We can rent a stroller at the market entrance.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you…then.” He hangs up before I can ask about the hesitation.
I press End and before I can put my phone back, Elle is plopping her chest onto mine. Her arms are outstretched as to not spill a single drop of wine. “I’m so proud of you.” She’s sobbing.
“Jesus, were you doing shooters in the kitchen?” I demand, shoving her sloppy face off my breasts. “Give me my sludge. It’s just a day at the market.”
“It’s a beginning, T.” She hands me the bottom half of a sippy cup I’m drinking out of before holding up her glass to clink the two together. “And don’t you deny it.”
I open my mouth and close it. I won’t deny it verbally because I think the beginning of me and Jonas happened the moment I saw him standing at the bar at Seduction.
Not that I’ll admit that to anyone but myself.
Chapter 12
Trina
I nod toward the long line in front of the tent as Jonas joins me at the biweekly farmer’s market. “Remember how you were thinking of trying to get to García’s?”
He immediately picks up my meaning. “That line’s for them?” he asks incredulously.
I nod. “I told you they were super popular and their takeaway business was off the charts. What? The big bad food critic didn’t do his research to see who the vendors were for today?” I laugh when his handsome face turns mutinous.
“I’ve tried twice to eat there. I think I’ve given up.”
“Tsk, tsk. I never would have taken you for a quitter, Mr. Rice,” I tease him.
“It’s not quitting. It’s not being given a chance. Some of us like to come to our own opinions without being told what to think,” he informs me loftily.
“Then go get yourself some of the best New Mexican food you’ll get in this borough without having to wait the average two hours for delivery.”
“Two…two hours?” he splutters. “No wonder why they hung up on me when I called at 6:30 for a to-go order!”
“If it’s good, it’s worth waiting for.” I shrug, but as soon as the words pop out of my mouth, Jonas’s eyes narrow on my lips, reminding me of our almost kiss yesterday. Pulse racing, I swallow to get moisture back in my mouth. “End of the line is right here.”
His voice husky, Jonas asks, “How long is this going to take?” And I’m not quite sure if he means the wait for the food or something else.
But my answer works for both. “As long as it takes.”
We move into line. Jonas is taken aback by how quickly we shuffle forward. “So, is there anything we can get for the kids?” He nods down to the twins comfortably ensconced in the stroller, who are enjoying the sights and smells emanating from the booths.
“Here
?” I hoot. “Jonas, I’ve exposed my children to a lot of food—”
“Mac’n’crap doesn’t count,” he interjects.
“But they might not enjoy the flavors yet. I’m not saying they won’t, but I wouldn’t waste the money on a maybe.”
“Why not? There are so many children not much older than Annie and Chris in line.”
I don’t point out to him the likelihood is those kids were sent to the market at their parents’ urging because he’ll likely be affronted over the lack of parental supervision. Here in Parkchester, we may not be in the wealthiest part of the city, but I’ve found my neighbors—my mother notwithstanding—to be courteous people, many dealing with the same day-to-day issues I do. Even if we’re all not grilling out on a regular basis like I used to do on my cul-de-sac in Wilton, we have an unspoken rule about keeping an eye out for one another’s children.
This is a city where we know anything can happen.
A group of older boys saunter by, bumping into people randomly. Jonas tenses next to me. Abruptly, one stops. “Hey, Ms. P.” Charmingly, he holds out a tattooed hand.
“Luis.” Jonas relaxes imperceptibly when I extend mine in return. “How’s your grandmother feeling?”
“Much better. She said if I saw you down here to thank you again for the soup. She said it was delicious.”
“Does she need any more?”
“Nah. She knew I was coming down with some friends.”
I lift my pointer finger and scold him much the same way I imagine Carlita Alvarez would admonish her oldest grandchild. “Don’t you boys be getting into trouble. Not if you want me putting in a good word with my employer for any of you.”
Challenged by You: A Fusion Universe Novel Page 9