Now my eyes were watery with unshed tears. “You have a powerful story, friend.”
She only shrugged. “It didn’t feel powerful while I was going through it.”
I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re amazing, Vera. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
She laughed and held up her scrawny bicep. “I mean, check out these guns, right?”
I laughed with her. “That is not at all what I meant, and you know it!”
She pulled up the next plate and smiled at me. “I know. But I didn’t share that for you to think I’m amazing. I’m the idiot that got involved with the psycho to begin with. I’m only trying to say that no matter where you’re at right now, you have the potential and the grit to do what you want to do, Kaya. It’s up to you. Whatever it is you want, you have to go hard after it and trust in the journey.”
Her words hit a chord inside of me, plucking the taut string with deft fingers and sending the reverberation of sound echoing through my body. She was right. I just needed to trust in the journey.
Weirdly, I wasn’t even thinking about Sarita in that moment. I was thinking about Wyatt. And the fear and panic that had crippled progress with him.
“You got out,” I told Vera, deciding she needed to hear truth too. “That doesn’t make you an idiot. That makes you amazing.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how long it took me though. And I—”
“Stop.” It was an order and a plea. “Vera, seriously, stop. Stop downplaying what you did. You got out. You’re a hero because you got out.”
“Thank you,” she whispered sincerely. “I need to remember that. Sometimes I feel amazing, like he can’t touch me ever again. And sometimes I feel like a weak, spineless girl that let herself be abused. But I’m neither. I’m somewhere in the middle. I’m healing. I might always be healing. You’re right though. And Killian reminds me all the time. He’s the villain, but I’m not the victim. I’m the hero.”
Smiling at her, I blinked away tears and focused on the plates again. “I love being right.”
We were laughing again when the kitchen door whooshed open in a dramatic, slow motion sequence. The dramatic, slow motion sequence might have been in my head.
Regardless, Ezra entered this sacred space and nearly all motion ground to a halt for a solid five seconds before jump-starting again with new vigor. The boss was here and everybody in the kitchen felt the pressure. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the diners suddenly started eating with more gusto and better manners too.
I swallowed down the gurgling nerves that wouldn’t settle no matter how many rational whispers of affirmation I told myself.
This isn’t the interview. If this doesn’t work out, there will be other opportunities.
Ezra’s not as scary as you think he is. Molly likes him, and Molly is a totally rational, normal, chicken just like you! If she can handle him, you can handle him.
He surveyed his kitchen as I imagined a general inspected his troops before battle. His shrewd eyes bounced from one person to the next, to the equipment and the food leaving the kitchen. He saw everything at once and had already passed his judgment. For better or worse, we were what he had to work with. It was impossible to tell if that pleased him or infuriated him.
A few staff members waved or said hello, but he merely nodded in return. For a man recently engaged, he wasn’t exactly the shade of matrimonial bliss.
“Hey, Ezra,” Vera greeted sweetly as she passed another stack of tapas to a waiting server. “Long time no see.” Her gaze swiveled back to mine and she explained, “Killian and I met them for a celebratory lunch today.”
He rubbed his red eyes. “We drank too much.”
Vera smiled. “You drank too much. I had to work.”
He blinked at her. “Yeah, I thought Killian was going to be here.”
“Killian is working at our restaurant.” She paused, and I thought she might have been waiting for that to register with him, but he didn’t comment. “Anyway,” she went on, “I’m doing you this huge favor tonight so Kaya can work alongside me.”
Ezra’s attention moved to me as if noticing me in Sarita’s kitchen for the first time. “You don’t belong here.”
It wasn’t a harsh statement, more like a neutral observation. He wasn’t accusing me of anything, only sliding the missing puzzle piece into place.
I didn’t know what to say though. Apparently, he was drunk or maybe just tipsy or on the other side of either heading toward hungover. However, all of those scenarios were less than ideal because he seemed cranky.
Pitching myself to the regular version of Ezra, who was terse, demanding, and obstinate in general, was hard enough. But having to convince him I was right for this restaurant was an entirely different beast of impossible.
Straightening my spine and steeling my courage, I lifted my chin and said, “I beg to differ.”
“What does that mean?” Ezra asked through a yawn while he rubbed his eyes again.
“I think I could belong here,” I ventured, swallowing the wobble in my voice. “If you let me try. I think I could be your executive.”
He focused on me fully while Vera moved down the stainless-steel island to give us space. “You want to be Sarita’s chef?” He rested his body weight on his hands. “Kaya, you want to leave Lilou for Sarita?”
Isn’t that what you did? was on the tip of my tongue, but I decided making jokes at the expense of his dating life probably wasn’t the best way to land my dream job.
“Yes,” I told him, feeling the truth of that one simple word down to the bottom of my soul. “I want her, Ezra. I think I was made for her.”
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Will that put Wyatt out?”
I shrugged, knowing I should be more professional, but now that the truth of what I wanted was out there, I couldn’t play coy. “He has other options. This is a once in a lifetime chance for me. I want to at least try.”
“I have several people interested in the job. You’re going to have to apply like everybody else.”
“That’s okay,” I told him honestly. “I’d love the chance to show you that I’m the best.”
He smiled at my sassy reply.
I held my game face in place even though the words were more bravado than anything else. My knees were currently trembling, and my nauseous scale was tipping towards violent. “I also have good references.” I inclined my head toward Vera.
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “References that are highly motivated to get out of doing the job themselves.”
Vera’s hands slammed playfully on the stainless steel. “Because we have our own damn kitchen to run.”
He smiled at me, ignoring Vera. “I see my ploy to hire them back isn’t working out like I’d planned.”
“Ezra!” Vera gasped.
I laughed because I could only hope that was a joke. If it was true, I was in trouble. There was no way I could compete against Killian. Not because he was such a superior chef. I mean, there were plenty of those out there. But because Killian owned the real estate on all of Ezra’s kindness. I supposed Molly got a portion too.
Ezra wrapped his knuckles on the counter. “Okay, Kaya. One shot. Make me a meal that will change my life. I want three courses and a dessert in the style of Sarita. So at least ten plates, but I’ll accept up to sixteen. The best you’ve got. I’ll also need a resume, references, and a letter of recommendation from Killian and Wyatt. I know you’ve been Wyatt’s sous chef for less than a year, but that should have been enough time for him to know your style and if you’ll fit in over here.”
I’d pulled out my phone to quickly take notes on everything he said. “When?” I asked, feeling breathless and weightless and scared shitless.
His head bobbled back and forth as he decided. “You can have one week. Next Monday, Sarita is closed over lunch. Is that enough time?”
“Yes.” No. “I can’t wait.” Oh my God! “This will
be so much fun.” I’m going to die.
His smile was knowing, making it—and him—evil as he turned and walked away.
He knew Monday wasn’t enough time to put together the ten to sixteen course meal that would change his life and make him hire me at Sarita. It was nowhere near enough time, but that was probably his design. I couldn’t help but think back to my conversation with Dillon, praying and hoping she was right, that he wasn’t sexist, that he wanted to hire Vera.
Because if Vera had a shot, then so did I.
Hopefully.
Maybe.
We’d soon find out.
I turned to Vera and gave her a shaky smile.
“Oh, my god!” she squealed before I could talk. “That was amazing!”
“I think I’m going to puke.”
She put her hands on my shoulders and shook my body roughly, apparently not caring about my puke warning. “You’re going to rock the shit out of this interview!”
“I think I should sit down.”
“Do you know how he, like, never does that? Like ever? I’ve never seen him take an interview like that. Never. I mean, last I knew, he was planning on hiring headhunters to look for the replacement. I know there are people interested in the job, but he’s very particular this time around.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” I shook my head rapidly. “You’re not making me feel better.”
Her smile stretched. “You’ve got so much work to do.”
“I feel like you’re enjoying this.”
She laughed, the sadistic little nymph. “So much. This is so entertaining to me.”
“I hate you.”
She laughed harder, but it quickly died. “What about Wyatt? Have you told him you were trying for this job? Do you think he’ll write you a letter of recommendation? Or sabotage you to get you to stay?”
Covering my face with my hands, I groaned. “Oh my God. Wyatt. He doesn’t know anything. He’s going to freak out.”
Her lips pressed together in a frown. “What do you think he’s going to say?”
I thought about how sweet he’d been lately. How kind. I thought about his dinner reservation for my parents. I thought about the way he’d been relentlessly pursuing me. His smiles. His kisses. His mouth on me in my most intimate of places.
And then I thought about how much he relied on me. Needed me in the kitchen. Begged for me not to leave him…
My answer was obvious. “I have absolutely no clue.”
Nineteen
Can we talk outside of Lilou?
It had been a simple enough text on my part. Straightforward. To the point. Without innuendo.
As in a date? Had been his stellar reply. Breakfast tomorrow? Benny said he’d cover deliveries.
He already had substitutes in place?
When I hesitated to reply, he sent another one. Come on, Swift. Play hooky with me… Promise we’ll have fun.
I had tried not to smile as I paced my apartment Sunday night and contemplated how to answer him. God, I was smitten with Wyatt. Completely head over heels. Maybe it had always been simmering underneath the surface. The way he would tease me. The way I would challenge him. How I always felt his eyes on me. How I always knew where he was. But, God, I was so stubborn. So obnoxiously pigheaded. I don’t think I would have done anything with my crush had Wyatt not kicked down my walls of resistance for me.
And it was embarrassing to think about it now, how messed up one relationship had made me. It was so long ago and yet I was still carrying around the fear that I wouldn’t be good enough. That there was something in me that would inevitably push Wyatt away.
Ridiculous, right?
The fear was still there though. Still burbling inside me like an accidental nuclear waste spill. I wanted to get rid of it so badly. I wanted to cleanse my body of the toxins. But even if I did the hard work and cleaned it up, there would always be trace particles lingering in the air, hiding in buried places within me, leaking forever into my confidence and self-esteem.
I was tired of the way my personality split in two, this frustrating dichotomy always at war within me. I could protect my heart and be open to new relationships. I could also hide and shrink away, terrified of change. I could be kind and considerate and also guarded and careful. I could snarl, act a raging bitch, but still remain loyal to my friends and generous whenever I wanted to be.
Maybe it wasn’t only me. Maybe all humans had these battling personality traits. Endless characteristics that didn’t always match up, but always made sense in light of who we were.
We were complicated and intricate, made up of a billion different experiences that have shaped and molded us to who we are. For better or worse.
That was how I felt now. Both better and worse. Both completely confident in my skills in the kitchen and terrified that I wouldn’t be enough for Ezra, or that his taste would be outside the realm I could cook in.
I one hundred percent loved my parents. I was grateful for all that they had done for me and the way they tried to support me and loved me, even though I wasn’t living the life they wanted me to be living. I was also totally frustrated with them and felt as though I’d earned some distance. Mostly from my mom.
And more importantly, I was falling for Wyatt. Hard and fast and irrevocably. And here I was, still trying to protect my stupid heart, still trying to quickly build defenses from the rubble inside me that could save me from the inevitable heartbreak.
I didn’t want to find out I wasn’t good enough for Wyatt.
I didn’t want for things to fall apart if I left Lilou because we wouldn’t see each other all the time and there wasn’t enough substance there to keep us together.
I didn’t want Wyatt to give up on us because I wasn’t worth pursuing.
I’d already had that relationship. And it had killed me. Damaged me. Left me as this skeptical, paranoid person that couldn’t even try at relationships anymore. I couldn’t go through that again.
But a date couldn’t hurt, right?
My heart thumped twice. Yes. Do it.
My brain gave a weak, common sense protest, but my fingers were already typing. How early do I have to get up?
I swear I could feel his smile all the way through the phone. Eight-thirty. It’s worth it. I know the best little place.
Not even his early choice for breakfast could turn me off to the idea. Still I couldn’t help but give him a hard time. It was too ingrained in me. Besides, I knew he liked it. Okay, fine. I’ll meet you there. Where is it?
Been waiting to do this for a long time, Kaya. I’m glad you said yes.
My heart had exploded with butterflies. I’d collapsed on my couch in a fit of old-fashioned heart palpitations.
But now as I pulled up to the address he gave me, I was second guessing my choice. This wasn’t a restaurant, but a house. Possibly the scene of a murder. Or my future murder. Not that the house was scary. It was the opposite.
The perfect square of a ranch had a detached garage, the door opened to show off a big, black muscle car with the hood popped open and tools laid neatly in rows on one of those manly workbench things. He drove an Acura to work and I didn’t know anything about it other than it was fast. This one seemed to be along the same vein.
The Acura was parked in the second bay. Leading me to believe that this was not only Wyatt’s house, but he had a thing for fast cars.
I tried to pass a snotty little judgment on him, as was my way. But I couldn’t come up with anything. It wasn’t stupid that Wyatt liked fast cars. It somehow fit perfectly in line with his personality. It wasn’t such a surprise to find that out as it was an obvious addition to all of the facts and truths I already knew about him.
Filing it away, I tried to talk myself out of imagining him driving the sleek muscle car with the white racing stripe down the center. But it was too late. I’d already imagined him. And I already found it unbearably sexy.
There was that.
The house itse
lf was completely isolated and perched on a bluff. Tall, towering trees surrounded the property and left little grass to be found. Instead, pine needles lay in a blanket of brown, only interrupted by the occasional bush or shrub.
A cozy wraparound porch made the walk up to the front door especially inviting. I could tell immediately that Wyatt took pride in his home. The walkway and porch were both swept of the relentless pine needles. The shutters looked nice framing the large windows. And there was even a porch swing hanging from the ceiling.
Either he was going to murder me all the way out here or charm the pants right off me.
The navy-blue door was opened, but I still knocked as I stepped inside his domain. I paused in the doorway, inhaling the scent of him in his house, and checking out the spacious layout.
There wasn’t an abundance of decorations or anything hanging on the walls, but his furniture was rich, chocolate leather and he’d filled in all the right spaces so it didn’t look as though there was anything missing.
His lamps, coffee table, and dining room setup were all a mixture of modern and mountain. It shouldn’t have gone together, but because it was Wyatt, it did. His aesthetic wasn’t accidental. This was his taste. This was him laid out before me in such a way that I felt like I was turning the pages to his autobiography.
He poked his head out of a room I could see was the kitchen, a smile already on his face. “Hey.”
I suppressed a smile and shook my head at him. “I hope you got reservations. This place looks packed.”
His smile stretched. “Don’t worry, I know the owner,” he assured me. He disappeared again, and I took that as my cue to join him.
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 86
