The Beard (Haylee Thorne)

by Haylee Thorne

  The Union Square Greenmarket has amazing produce, and I feel like a kid in a candy store. The sun has graced us with its presence, and the market is packed with people. I am loving the hustle and bustle environment; it puts me in my element. There are a multitude of stalls selling everything from fresh fruits and vegetables, to flowers and exotic jerkies, to sauces and distilled spirits, to pretzels and even baked goods. After years of friendship, I find out that Amber is an amazing haggler and decide on the spot that she will have to come on these shopping trips with me more often. I look on as she engages her prey.

  “Listen buddy, you’re killing me. These tomatoes are pretty, sure. But at that price, I can’t afford to bulk, and who knows what they’ll look like in a couple of days. You have to get rid of them, so help me help you out here.”

  The poor guy doesn’t even know what hits him, and he has been talked into a corner—she’s great at that. I try my hardest not to snicker, but I have to turn around and pretend that I am engrossed in my phone. We find everything we need fairly quickly, and Amber manages to snag us deals at every single stall we go to. We get almost everything delivered since the orders are large. When I look at my watch and realize I told Ashton to meet me here thirty-two minutes from now, I start to get antsy.

  “Okay, I think that we have everything. Let’s go,” I say hurriedly.

  Amber pouts.

  “But I wanted to get a smoothie.”

  “I’ll make you ten smoothies when we get back to the restaurant. Let’s just go.”

  “Ugh, fine. But they better come with a snack.”

  “Fine,” I bark out. “Let’s. Go.”

  We start walking toward the train when I see Ashton approach.

  Shit.

  Since the majority of the stands are set up in front of trucks, they provide amazing cover.

  “Come,” I hiss as I duck in between a couple of stalls and hide amidst two trucks. Amber ducks in between the trucks with me, no questions asked. One of the owners notices us and is eyeing us suspiciously. He walks over and says something to the female who’s with him. I’m afraid he is going to tell us to leave and blow our cover. His wife—I think it’s his wife—approaches us.

  “You are not supposed to be there, you know. Can I help you, girls?” she says with her hand on her hip.

  I’m not sure what to say. I assess the woman in front of us. Her friendly face is devoid of makeup, but she is attractive enough to pull it off with her heart-shaped face and large, storm-blue eyes. She is heavy-set, short, and reminds me of my Aunt Pat. I look over at Amber, not quite knowing what to say, so she takes the lead on this one.

  “Crazy ex, you know? The stalker type,” Amber whispers loudly.

  The woman looks us over for a second, as if assessing the situation. A frown creases her forehead. My eyes dart over to where Ashton is standing, and he is turning our way.

  “Get down,” I bite out.

  Even though I was talking to Amber, the woman ducks down with us instinctively. The three of us are crouched down in between the trucks.

  “Is he gone?” I whisper.

  Amber slowly rises up and scans the area.

  “He’s standing a couple stalls over,” she whispers. “I think he’s looking for you, M.”

  “No kidding, why do you think I wanted to leave?” I say, a little louder than intended.

  “Shhhh,” the lady warns.

  My eyes dart to Amber, who has returned to a crouching position. Humor is dancing in her eyes, and I cover my mouth to stop from laughing. This total stranger is completely invested in our hiding out from Ashton.

  “Which one is it?” she asks.

  “See that guy over there wearing a suit? You know the one that is sticking out like a sore thumb?”

  The woman rises a bit to take a peak, and she gives Ashton the once-over.

  “Well hot damn,” she says. “If you don’t want him stalking you, you can tell him he’s welcome to stalk me anytime.”

  I look around at the three of us crouched down, and the ridiculousness of the situation hits me. I slap my hand over my mouth and try to cover up the sound of my laughter.

  “Okay, listen. This is ridiculous,” Amber says. “I’ll just go up to him and tell him that you are not coming. We can’t hide out here all day. There is no telling how long he will wait around.”

  “No, wait,” I hiss.

  But I’m too late. She has already risen to her feet and is marching toward Ashton.

  Crap.

  I’m craning my neck trying to see what is happening. She reaches him, and he smiles at her. But the smile fades, and his expression hardens. I am not sure what she is saying to him, but I can tell he isn’t liking it because sadness clouds his features. Seeing him like that doesn’t make me happy. He nods at her and turns but changes his mind. He turns back and tells her something before walking off in the direction he came from, which is past me. I duck back down again, and my shoulders slump as I sigh deeply. The woman, who is still crouched down next to me, puts her hand on my shoulder.

  “Are you alright, dear?” she asks with concern in her tone.

  I’m afraid to speak because I am not sure if I can hold it together, so I nod my head. Amber has made her way back to us and looks at me with consternation written all over her face.

  “He’s gone,” she announces.

  My eyes dart over to the woman, and as we all rise to our feet, I offer her my hand.

  “My name is Mackenzie,” I tell her, introducing myself. “And this is Amber. Thank you for letting us hide out for a bit.”

  I force a smile.

  “That’s quite alright, dear. My name is Clara, and that handsome old fella over there is my husband, Tom.”

  She throws a loving glance at her husband, who is looking over at us and shaking his head.

  “I think Tom thinks we are a little crazy,” Amber says with a chuckle.

  Clara laughs.

  “Well, he is used to my shenanigans. After thirty-three, almost thirty-four years of marriage, he has to be,” she says as she winks at us.

  “Oh wow, that is wonderful. Congratulations. That is quite the milestone.”

  “And I am sure you and your fiancé will have a happy and long marriage, also.”

  My eyebrows draw together in confusion.

  “I noticed your ring, dear,” she says as she nods her head toward the enormous diamond on my left hand.

  She has no way of knowing that my impending marriage has a set expiration date and that love—the kind of love that she shares with her husband—just isn’t in the cards for us. It’s strange that this is the first time that the thought is making me feel a bit empty.

  “Thank you, Clara. I hope you are right.”

  “When is your anniversary?” Amber asks.

  Clara beams.

  “Actually, our anniversary is tomorrow.”

  Amber and I share a look, and I think we have the same idea.

  “Well, we would like to thank you for your help. If you do not already have other plans, my restaurant opens its doors tomorrow. I would love to have you and Tom come and enjoy a meal to celebrate your anniversary—on the house, of course. And if tomorrow doesn’t work, the invitation is open for whenever you want. Amber here runs the front of the house, and she will make sure we can accommodate you.”

  “What a generous offer,” Clara says with a big smile. “We would love to take you up on that.”

  We give her the address and tell her to call us when she decides what time she would like to come. She gives the both of us a hug before we walk off.

  “Come and hide with me anytime, girls,” she hollers after us.

  It is finally here. Opening night. And while I should be excited, I still feel bad about yesterday. My mind drifts to the conversation I had with Amber when we were walking to the train. On our way there, I asked Amber what she said to Ashton. She told me that she made it clear that Brock had told me everything, and that I didn’t want to see h
im after that.

  “Is that all?” I asked her.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Because he looked so sad.”

  She shrugged. “He knows he messed up. He was a jerk for saying the things he said.”

  We walk some more, neither of us speaking for minute.

  “Oh! He also told me to tell you that you should know he is still not sorry.”

  He keeps saying that, but I am sorry because I can’t get it out of my head. I have to forget about the kiss…and about him.

  I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. I have been in the kitchen prepping since nine this morning. I have staff of course, but I am so anal that it’s hard for me to relinquish control. I have worked so long and so hard to get here, and now that it’s finally here, I need everything to be perfect.

  “It’s all happening,” Amber says in a sing-song voice as she saunters into the kitchen.

  “How is everything at the front of the house?”

  “Everything and everybody is ready to go. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

  I roll my eyes at her statement, much to Amber’s amusement. I look around the kitchen, mentally going over my checklist. I smile when I am satisfied that all the boxes are checked.

  “I think that I am ready to go in here, also,” I tell her.

  “Alright, go take a quick shower and put on a fresh set of scrubs. Then we can have a quick toast before we open the doors.”

  Amber ushers me towards my office, and since a shower actually sounds good, I listen.

  After a quick shower, I feel refreshed. But the butterflies in my stomach are out of control. We are booked solid all the way up to closing time and for the rest of the month for that matter, thanks to Mikaela’s many contacts and some raving reviews from food critics. Mikaela says that the mystery surrounding the yet to be announced name has also created some buzz. I walk into the dining room and a sense of accomplishment washes over me. The place looks amazing, even better than I imagined it to be when we got started. It is hard to believe that this place was in shambles mere weeks ago. Amber and Alex are chatting up a storm with Brock and Mikaela when I approach.

  “Ugh finally,” Amber says as I join them. “Can we finally crack this open?” she says as she holds up a bottle of Perrier-Jouët Belle Epoque.

  My very favorite champagne.

  I smirk at her.

  “By all means, let’s get this party started,” I tell her.

  “Speech!” Amber says loudly.

  “Yes, speech!” Mikaela chimes in.

  I shake my head.

  “Come on, M. Give us a few words,” Brocks says as he hands me a glass.

  I take the glass from him and raise it.

  “Fine then,” I say. “But remember that you asked for this,” I warn.

  Amber chuckles.

  “You guys, I’m standing here tonight in awe. In awe of each of you and your hard work and dedication to help make my dream come true. After what Chris did to me, I thought that it was just never going to happen for me.”

  I turn slightly to face Brock.

  “But then I met you, Brock, and you made it possible for me to believe in my dream again. I adore you for that,” I say as I smile at him.

  I turn to a little to the left.

  “Amber, you have been my best friend for so long. I can’t remember a time when we weren’t friends. You have always been my biggest cheerleader and my light in the darkest of days. You have given up job security and dropped everything to come help me with the restaurant, and I am so grateful that you are on this journey with me. I love you.”

  She looks at me, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Stop it, M. You are going to ruin my makeup.” She sniffles. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else. You know that. I know that this place is going to be a huge success, and I am glad to be a part of it,” she croaks.

  “Alex, same goes for you. I’m grateful to have you here, and I adore you. You know that. I know you had a great gig, and you gave it up to work with the two craziest broads you know. I guess we have grown on you, huh?”

  He chuckles.

  “Well, I could say that Amber made me, but I actually begged her to take me on. I will always be part of your team.”

  I smile at him and turn to Mikaela.

  “Mik, you and I have become fast friends through all of this, and I am so happy you and your ten-mile long legs walked into this place. You have been so instrumental in turning my vision for this place into a reality and even exceeded my expectations. I hope you know that you are stuck with us now because we adore you,” I say with a wink.

  She smirks.

  “Ditto, for sure. And to be clear, it is you who’s stuck with me for life!” she says with a giggle.

  “Okay guys, are you ready to find out what the name of this fine establishment will be?”

  “Yes!” they say in unison.

  “Okay, follow me. Let’s toast outside!”

  Everyone follows me outside, and I tell them to cover their eyes. I have a little remote that flips the light on, and I pull the covering off the sign. As my sign lights up, I tear up.

  “Okay,” I tell them. “You can look! Welcome to Indigenous, you guys!”

  Mikaela claps her hands. “Oh, I love that name! It’s perfect!”

  Brock puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him.

  “It gets the husband stamp of approval,” he says as he winks at me.

  “Gah! I love it so much, M,” Amber shrieks.

  “Okay you guys, time to toast!” Alex chimes in.

  “To Indigenous,” we all say in unison as our glasses make contact. “Cheers.”

  We take a sip of our champagne and head back inside, ready for the night to really and truly begin.

  I can’t believe how smoothly everything is running in my kitchen tonight. Orders are going out like clockwork, and we have had nothing but great feedback so far. Not a single dish has been sent back, either. I am busy plating when Amber walks into the kitchen.

  “It’s time for you to walk the dining room and greet the guests,” Amber tells me.

  I grimace.

  “I’m too busy right now,” I protest.

  “Nonsense. They can handle the kitchen for a few minutes. Right guys? Tell her.”

  “We can handle it, chef,” Martin, my sous chef, says.

  “Yes, Chef. We’ve got this,” Hannah, my pastry chef, chimes in.

  I groan.

  “Besides, Clara and Tom are here. You have to come and say hello.”

  “Fine,” I grumble. “Let me wash my hands first.”

  “Okay, I’ll go on ahead,” she says. “Don’t make me come back and drag you out,” she calls over her shoulder.

  I wash my hands and remember that the card we have for Clara and Tom is on my desk. I walk into my office, and when I push the door open, I nearly have a heart attack. Ashton is standing by my desk, looking at the picture frame in his hand.

  “Jesus, Ashton. What are you doing in here? You scared the crap out of me. This is the second time you’ve done that.”

  He puts the frame back on my desk. It’s the picture of Brock and me.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just want to talk to you.”

  “Have you ever thought of picking up a phone?”

  “Your friend made it clear that you didn’t want to hear from me or see me again.”

  “Yet here you are.”

  “If I called, would you have answered?”

  “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. And we will never know for sure now, will we?”

  He takes a step closer, and I think for a second that my heart is going to burst out of my chest.

  “Do you love him?” he demands.

  “What kind of a question is that?”

  “It is a simple question. Do. You. Love. Him?”

  I don’t want to lie to him, but I also can’t tell him the truth.

  “I don’t see ho
w that is any of your business,” I say, trying to deflect his question.

  He shoves a hand through his hair, frustration radiating from him.

  “Damn it, Mac. I need to know.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “No, I don’t. Do you want to enlighten me?”

  “Listen Mac, I know that you have feelings for me. I felt it when I kissed you, and if I am right, then you cannot possibly be in love with my brother. Because if you even feel an iota of what I feel for you, for Brock, then you would have never let me kiss you, let alone respond to me so naturally.”

  “I wasn’t sure how to respond,” I say weakly.

  It sounds lame, even to me.

  “Bullshit,” he barks.

  “I have to go,” I tell him as I turn to leave.

  He is fast as lightning and reaches me before I can even blink. He grabs my arm and pulls me toward him. His lips crush mine, and he invades my mouth with his. I melt into the kiss without any hesitation because I am powerless to resist. I have been craving his mouth since the moment his lips left mine. His kiss is like a siren’s song, and I am completely and utterly at his mercy. He moans into my mouth. All of a sudden, my brain starts working again, and I realize what I am doing. I push him off me.

  “Stop,” I say hoarsely. “You need to leave.”

  I take a few steps back, desperately needing some distance.

  “See, that right there? That kiss? You don’t kiss just anyone like that, Mac.”

  He’s right, and I want to tell him so badly how I feel about him. My bottom lip trembles. I open my mouth to speak, to tell him that he is right. That I love him.

  But he speaks first.

  “I was right, wasn’t I? You are marrying my brother so he will pay for your restaurant.”