by Cassia Leo
I roll my eyes. “Fine. But when you’re done, I have some stuff I need to get off my chest, too.”
He nods. “Okay, okay,” he says, as if he can already anticipate having to listen to me telling him how much I care about Ethan.
The server delivers our drinks, and we sip in silence for a minute before my father continues the conversation.
“You have to understand that when you hurt, I hurt,” he begins, and the pain in his eyes is undeniable. “Watching you suffer after what happened with Edward was like feeling the…the pain I felt when I lost the restaurant.”
The server arrives with a basket of naan and my father flashes her a warm smile.
“I don’t like to admit when I’ve made a mistake,” he continues, pushing through despite his obvious discomfort with expressing this level of vulnerability. “I’m supposed to be strong for you and your mom. I’m not supposed to risk my family’s security with bad business deals. I’m not supposed to let something like losing my restaurant get me down. But I did. I did both of those things.
“And when you couldn’t find a job, I saw the same hurt in your eyes. You were suffering. You thought you might have to give up on your dream the way I gave up on mine. Seeing you suffering, and not being able to help you by giving you a job at the restaurant… Mija, you have no idea how that filled me with so much shame.”
I swallow the hard lump of emotion lodged in my throat. “I guess I never thought of what me losing my job looked like from your perspective… But that doesn’t really explain why you didn’t want me to get involved with Ethan.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Are you kidding me? They’re twins,” he says, emphasizing the last word. “I wanted you to have a job. But I didn’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“But Ethan isn’t—”
He holds up a hand to stop me. “Think of it this way. If I told you I was going into the restaurant business with Paulo’s twin brother, after what happened with Paulo, would you warn me not to do it?”
If he told me he was going into business with Paulo’s theoretical twin brother, I’d do whatever it took to not have to see him suffer like that again.
“Okay, I get it,” I admit reluctantly. “But it’s different this time, Dad. Ethan and Edward are complete opposites. Ethan isn’t going to hurt me.”
He shakes his head. “You have no way of knowing that.”
“You had no way of knowing if Mom was going to hurt you when you started dating back in the 1800s.”
He rolls his eyes. “But I didn’t have anyone to warn me about your mom.”
My eyes widen at the unintended implication.
“You know what I mean. You got your warning from Edward. Ethan and Edward can’t be that different from each other. Like your grandma used to say: Si ladra como un perro…”
This is one of my grandma’s favorite sayings, which translates to: If it barks like a dog. The implied ending to that sentence being: it is a dog.
I tilt my head as I glare at him. “You’re seriously trying to tell me you haven’t noticed a difference between Ethan and Edward in all your business dealings? You’re telling me you let Ethan hire me despite the fact you think he’s exactly like Edward?”
He flashes me an uncomfortable smile now. “Okay, I admit I see some differences.”
I cock an eyebrow as I cross my arms over my chest.
He takes a sip from his glass of water then shrugs. “Okay, fine. He’s nothing like Edward.”
I flash my dad a smug grin as I uncross my arms and reach for a piece of naan.
“But that doesn’t mean you can be so careless about this,” he continues. “It isn’t just your feelings that can get hurt, Alice. This is your career.”
I nod as I hand him a piece of naan from the basket. “That’s nice, Dad, but I don’t want to be careful,” I say, inhaling the garlicky aroma of the bread. “Being careful is something you do during job interviews and African safaris. It’s not something you do with love.”
He chuckles, though somewhat reluctantly, at the bastardization of one of my mom’s favorite sayings.
Reaching across the table, he grabs my hand and looks into my eyes. “Fine. But promise me you’ll twist his huevos into a bow if he hurts you,” he says with a wink.
I shake my head in dismay as I realize it was my mom who told my dad about Ethan, not Edward or any of my coworkers at Forked.
I was naïve to think my mom could keep a secret from her husband. And I’ve been beyond foolish to think hiding the internship from Ethan will somehow make my need to make a decision go away. Secrets are not meant to be kept from the ones we love.
“I love Ethan.” It takes me a moment to realize I’ve said these words aloud. “Oh, my God.”
The expression on my father’s face is equal parts panic and curiosity.
I set my piece of bread back in the basket and squeeze his hand. “I have to go, Dad. But you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ve got this. Okay?”
His mouth spreads into a tentative smile as he nods. “You always had it. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
As I step out of aRoqa restaurant, I pull my phone out of my pocket, and I’m surprised to see a text message from a number that looks oddly familiar. But the message preview reveals the sender is someone whose number I deleted from my contacts not so long ago. Someone I have no desire to speak to.
Edward: I owe you an apology. I never should have cheated on you or said those things to you. If you’re going to date my brother, we should hash things out so we can move on.
I stare at the screen for so long, I don’t notice someone standing next to me until I get a whiff of Kanye West’s Whatever it Takes cologne. I flinch at the sight of Edward as if I’ve seen a ghost.
“I don’t need an apology from you,” I say, turning to leave.
He grabs my wrist. “You may not need apology, but you need to see what I have to show you,” he says, letting go of my arm and reaching into the pocket of his slacks. “There’s something you need to know about Ethan.”
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I say, clutching my wrist against my abdomen.
He rolls his eyes as he holds out his phone to me. “Look.”
I stare into his dark eyes, refusing to look down. “What are you doing, Edward? Does the thought of me being happy with someone else really bother you so much you have to crap all over my happiness?”
The muscle in his jaw twitches. “Look at the pictures, Alice.”
Pictures?
What is he talking about? Does he have pictures of Ethan with another woman?
“Why are you doing this?” I plead.
He shakes his head as he pulls his phone back. “Fine. I guess ignorance truly is bliss for some—”
Before he can put the phone away, I snatch it out of his hand. But the picture on the screen immediately makes me want to throw it back at him.
“What’s that?”
He smiles, pleased he’s gotten my attention. “Who’s that is the question you really want to ask.” He glances at the phone in my hand. “Go ahead and scroll through the entire album.”
I glare at him for a moment before I begin swiping through the photos. With every image, a larger picture forms in my mind of a young Ethan in love with a young woman. A woman who looks exactly like me. The dark, wavy hair parted down the middle, the light-olive skin, the round brown eyes and heart-shaped face with the pointed chin.
“What the hell is this?” I whisper despite the fact I know exactly what these images imply.
“Her name is Priya. She’s the only girl he ever loved. And now, you’re her lovely replacement,” Edward says, taking the phone back and tucking it into his pocket. “He’s using you, Alice.”
“What?” I say, unable to make sense of his words.
He shakes his head as if he pities me. “Ethan asked me if I could recommend a sous chef to make his first American restaurant a success. Of course I recommended you. You�
�re the best sous chef in Manhattan. But I warned him not to get involved with you. I knew he was going to use you to advance his career. It’s what he does.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you implying he slept his way to success?”
He shrugs. “Priya really broke his heart. Sex became his coping mechanism, and his ticket to success. My only regret is I was the one who recommended he hire you. But I never meant for you to get hurt in all of this.”
His faux sympathy makes me want to vomit. My mind is spinning as it scrambles to separate fact from fiction. How much of what Edward is telling me is true? I used to think ninety percent of what he said was untrue, but is it all lies?
“Ethan isn’t like you,” I say, though I feel zero conviction behind my words.
Ethan may not behave like Edward, but there’s no denying those pictures.
Edward’s expression morphs into hardened anger. “He’s no better than me,” he says, his tone taking on that characteristic air of disdain. “You may think he’s amazing, but you’re deluded if you think he’s going to deliver on that promotion. And even if he does promote you to sous chef, you’re never going to be anything more than a useful tool to him, a tool to be used and screwed whenever he wants to remember what it felt like to be with Priya.”
I fight against the part of me that wants to believe his words. The part of me that bought into the lie Edward told me in that walk-in cooler seven months ago. The lie that I’m not beautiful or lovable or talented enough for him, or anyone.
“Your entire reputation in this city is built on lies,” I begin, straightening my shoulders as I look him in the eye. “All you do is tear other people down to prop yourself up. You’d be nowhere, you’d have nothing if it weren’t for the amazing people you’ve worked with, including me. And the fact that you don’t understand that, is why you’ll never be as successful as Ethan.”
“His success is superficial. I’m the one who finished school. I’m the one who clawed my way to every success while he glides in, sprinkles a bit of sugar on other people’s failures, and everyone falls all over him. So brilliant! So imaginative! Ha!”
I shake my head. “Wow… I used to think you were an egotistical jerk with a superiority complex,” I say, ignoring his lazy smirk. “I still think that. But now I know it’s not just that. I can see clearly now, you’re just a pathetic, spiteful man who derives pleasure from stealing everyone’s joy.”
“Stealing joy? Oh, please. Save me the Oprah psychoanalysis. You don’t know me, Alice, you’ve never known me. And you definitely don’t know Ethan.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I do know one thing,” I say, bumping into a bag of garbage on the sidewalk as I take a step back. “You’re trash, Edward. And if you don’t change your ways, I expect that’s where all the achievements you’ve earned on the backs of others will end up, too.”
Before he can reply, I kick the bag of trash toward him and begin walking in the direction of Forked. When I glance back, I’m relieved to find Edward is not following after me. But that doesn’t make what he shared with me any less disturbing.
I’ll never be able to unsee those pictures of Ethan’s ex-girlfriend. If I don’t bring this up with Ethan, I’ll always wonder if anything Edward said about his intentions was true.
My gut is telling me not to believe anything Edward says. Just as Minka confirmed to me before I took the job at Forked, it was Edward who used me to advance his career. Ethan wouldn’t use me.
Would he?
As I cross 8th Avenue, I suddenly remember the night Ethan and I spent together at the hotel. He kept getting text messages, which he seemed to be ignoring. Then, he lied to me about talking to Tino.
Then, of course, there’s the fact he never told me about Priya.
But we weren’t even together. Was he really obligated to tell me about his ex-girlfriend?
But she looks just like me. It’s kind of suspicious to keep something like that a secret.
What else is he keeping from me?
My stomach is in knots as I push through the swinging door into the pastry kitchen. When I find Ethan in there talking to Judy, my heart stops. I realize I have no idea what I’m going to say to him.
The smile on his face vanishes when he notices the distress in my eyes. But Judy doesn’t seem to notice.
Her eyes light up when she sees me. “Alice!” she says excitedly. “Congratulations on the Paris internship! I had no idea you were interested in teaching.”
Ethan looks at Judy as if she’s crazy. “What are you talking about?” he asks her, but he turns to me for the answer.
Judy finally notices the anguish in my eyes. “Oh, my,” she murmurs. “I… Bette called me this morning to tell me and I was so excited. I thought… I assumed you would have told… I’m so sorry, Alice. I really didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” I assure her, then I turn to Ethan. “I should have said something sooner.”
He shakes his head as he stares at the shiny surface of the stainless steel worktable between us. “Come with me.”
I follow behind him, feeling very much like a defiant student being called to the principal’s office. I know I’ve messed up, but I’m not the only one who has some explaining to do. Ethan kept secrets from me, too.
I close the door when we’re both in the office, pausing for a moment before I turn to face my doom. But when I turn around, Ethan is not right behind me the way he usually is when we sneak away to his office together. He’s standing a few feet away from me, but it may as well be a mile.
“You’re leaving to Paris?” he asks, his voice taut with tension. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I didn’t tell you about the internship because I wasn’t sure if I was going to accept it.”
“But now you’re sure?”
“No! I told the director at Le Cordon Bleu I couldn’t take the internship because it didn’t pay enough to justify—”
“Oh, so if the price was right, you would have gladly left?”
“No, this isn’t coming out right.”
“You could say that again,” he remarks with such disdain that, in the moment, he reminds me so much of Edward.
“Were you using me to make Forked successful?” I ask, hardly able to force the words out through the thickness in my throat.
“What are you talking about?”
I stare into his eyes for a moment, searching for any indication he’s lying to me. But the hard truth is that I obviously don’t know him well enough to recognize when he’s hiding something.
“I ran into Edward,” I begin, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “He showed me the pictures of your ex…Priya. That’s her name, right?”
He takes a step back and bumps into a file cabinet, as if I’ve brandished a deadly weapon. “What do you mean? He showed you what pictures?”
“Please don’t do that, Ethan. Please don’t play dumb. Not with me.”
His shoulders slump as he seems to realize there’s no denying this. “I was with her over a decade ago.”
I sigh heavily. “You know this has nothing to do with time. She looks exactly like me.” I pause to let the words sink in. “So, did you use me because I looked like her or did you use my father and me because you wanted Forked to succeed? Just tell me which one of those two scenarios is true, and I’ll leave you alone.”
He lets out an unamused chuckle as he shakes his head as he steps toward me. “If you think putting my faith in you is the same as using you, then yes. I used you, because you’re the best bloody chef I know. But apparently you have so much faith in me, you thought it necessary to apply for an internship behind my back. Were you planning to leave me high and dry like you did my brother?”
“You think I was going to count on your stupid promotion? And your brother left himself high and dry when he disrespected me.” I reach for the door handle, my entire body itching with a desperate need to get out of this room. “I’ll do us both
a favor and quit before you make the same mistake he did.”
Chapter 19
ETHAN
The lobby in Greenwood Capital is the same as the last time I was here, but it looks completely different to me now. The glass walls look less open-concept and more like a means to spy on employees. The modern, white furnishings feel cold and sterile, like they’re trying too hard to impress all the tech startups they work with. Knowing less than twenty percent of Greenwood Capital’s funding goes to hospitality ventures makes me feel even more out of place here.
“Cristian will see you now,” the young receptionist says with a flirty smile.
I nod as I rise from the sofa and make my way to the glass-walled office about fifty feet behind the reception desk. When I enter, Cristian is using an Apple Pencil to tap the screen of a large iPad.
“How’s it going?” I say, taking a seat in the chair across from Alice’s father. “Are we finally all set to close this deal?”
Cristian doesn’t look up from the tablet as he continues tapping away. “Almost. I’m waiting on one document from the underwriting department. But you can sign the rest of the docs while we wait.” He finally looks up, his eyes laser-focused on mine. “How are you doing?”
The intensity of his tone as he asks this benign question catches me off-guard. “I’m doing well. Thanks.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Really? ’Cause you look like shit.”
I laugh at his blunt delivery. “Well, I may be a tad hungover,” I admit, not adding how I’ve been “a tad hungover” for about three weeks straight. “I’ve been better, no doubt. But you don’t have to worry. The bonus structure for the final funding phase is still in play.”
Cristian seems to take this as an affront to his character. “You think I care about a damn bonus?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I just don’t want you to think I’d pull the bonus over…over what happened.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re that stupid.”
