Mine: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (A Back to Me Series Book 2)

by Brittany Taylor

  Making a trip to the grocery store? Send a text.

  Going to the dentist? Send a text.

  On our way home from work? Send a text.

  Maybe it made us paranoid or overly cautious. But Lena and I didn’t care. The note Julian left in my apartment a year ago injected an intense amount of fear and insecurity into our marriage. Because if we stayed in constant contact throughout the day, we knew it was another day where Julian didn’t reappear.

  Instead, it’s a message from Max asking whether the sous chef he hired yesterday has shown up yet. I would wonder why he’s asking since she isn’t supposed to be here for another ten minutes, but I know Max well. He’s strict when it comes to the chefs and staff, especially when it involves being on time. Not that I fault him for the way he runs his restaurant, in fact, I admire him for it. Max has built this place from the ground up, investing every cent he had. Even though Max is strict when it comes to the operation of his restaurant, I quickly learned to adapt when he hired me a year ago. I’ve come to respect him over the time I’ve worked here, and I could tell he felt the same after he offered me the head chef position after being here only six months.

  Before replying to Max, I dig inside the pocket of my black pants, pulling out my box of half-eaten Tic Tacs. It’s a habit I’ve used to replace the nearly full pack of cigarettes I would smoke a day nearly two years ago. The tangy orange candy doesn’t completely satisfy me the way a cigarette would, but it was a compromise I made with myself to quit.

  By the time I reply to Max’s text, one finally comes in from Lena. My heart races. It’s a sensation I thought would have faded over the time we’ve been together, but it hasn’t. I hadn’t heard from her since the message I sent her when I had stepped into the front door of the restaurant, her only reply a simple ‘okay’. Even if her replies are simple, they give me a sense of comfort. Comfort knowing she’s invested in our marriage just as much as she was the day we were married.

  I slide the Tic Tac to the other side of my mouth with my tongue and open Lena’s text.

  It’s a picture of the shed in our back yard. Or rather, what used to be the shed. The weathered planks of wood lie in a massive, disorganized pile in our yard. The old robin’s egg blue nearly gone; tiny pinstripe lines embedded between the old gray wood. Underneath the picture, is a message.

  Lena: I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore. I hope you won’t miss it too much.

  I hit the reply button.

  Me: I still planned on doing it. I’m sor—

  “Excuse me.” My fingers pause as I snap my head up to three knocks tapping against the doorframe to my office. “Are you Logan Moore?” Standing in the doorway is a woman, dressed in a crisp, black chef jacket. She’s young, most likely a few years younger than I am.

  “That’s me.” I abruptly stand. “Can I help you?” Lena’s text is still resting in the back of my mind, her words replaying over and over. Her words felt off, the same way she was this morning.

  “I’m the new sous chef.” The woman steps forward, holding her hand out. “Natalie.”

  “Right.” I sigh with a heavy breath. “Nice to meet you, Natalie.” I return her handshake.

  “I hope I’m not too late.”

  “No.” I wave her off, grabbing the inventory clipboard from my desk. “You’re a bit early, actually. If it were Max, that’d be a different story.” I lightly laugh, hoping to ease her worry.

  “Great.” She smiles back.

  “Have a seat.” I point to the empty chair beside me and start up my computer. “I just need to print out the inventory sheet before we get started. Max likes them to be printed out only on the days we need them. He hates clutter and unnecessary paperwork.”

  “Okay.” Natalie sits with her hands in her lap, wringing her fingers. She looks nervous, scared even.

  “Are you excited about starting here?” I ask her, hoping to put her at ease.

  “I am. This restaurant is one of the best in Seattle. I still can’t believe Max hired me.”

  “I was shocked when he hired me too.” I click my mouse several times, opening the document we use every week for inventory. “But this is a great place to work as long as you put in the time and effort.”

  I glance over my shoulder at Natalie. Her brown hair is tied back in a tight ponytail and her chef coat is void of any wrinkles. She seems like the type of person who takes her job seriously. Max may be strict, but at least he has a knack for hiring the right kind of people.

  The silence in my office swells and I have the sudden urge to fill it.

  “So, Max tells me you graduated from San Diego Culinary Institute.” I turn back to my computer and open the inventory file. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  “Thank you.” She smiles. “They have a very strenuous and tiring program, but it was worth it. I’ve always wanted to be a chef.”

  I’m nodding along, hoping the printer won’t take long to print the papers I need. It’s not like I’m uncomfortable talking to Natalie, but I’m finding myself catching my phone in my peripheral vision. There’s an invisible tether tying me to my phone, wondering why Lena felt the need to tear down our shed out of the blue this morning. My unfinished text fades to black as my phone screen times out.

  Natalie taps her finger on the desk, bringing my attention to her. “Max didn’t tell me where you went to school. He only told me you started working for him this past year.”

  I pause in my seat and stare at my computer, swallowing the familiar lump in my throat, the same one that grows any time anyone asks me about my past. The printer kicks on and I spin in my chair, turning my back to Natalie. “Yeah. I went to a school out on the east coast and moved here last year.” I keep it vague as I always do. I’ve learned to stay as close to the truth as I can without it appearing as if I have something to hide, all while keeping the details of my past a secret. It’s a double-edged sword. Bend too close to the truth and I risk the life I’ve built with Lena. Staying too vague only heightens suspicion.

  Max didn’t ask too many questions when he hired me. He was in a tight bind for a line cook last summer when Lena and I moved out here. In the spur of the moment, I decided to check out our local farmer’s market, hoping to pick up some heirloom tomatoes for a soup I wanted to make for Lena. I’d caught sight of Max as he picked out a persimmon, knowing it was a fruit that most people didn’t gravitate toward. Unable to help myself, I asked him if he knew how well those worked in a grilled cheese with prosciutto. At first, his stare was cold, as if he didn’t understand why a stranger would interrupt him while he picked out the best ones. But then his eyes softened slightly, realizing what I had actually suggested.

  And that was all it took. Max hired me on the spot, convinced my knowledge of persimmons and grilled cheese recipes was all he needed to know I was exactly the kind of line cook he was needing.

  I’m relieved when the papers are finally ready. I grab them quickly and stand, turning back to Natalie. The swelling in my throat has all but vanished. Thank God.

  Natalie’s face remains placid, her almond shaped eyes slightly wider than they were when we first met. I can tell she’s caught off guard by my short answer. Most chefs will jump at the chance to brag about their credentials and their world travels. They would describe adventures and how they toured the streets of Japan and trained under the best culinary chefs in Paris. But not me. Even if I’d had the traditional training that most chefs in the culinary world have had, I still couldn’t wear it like a badge of honor. My past was a secret and my life will always remain a secret to protect Lena.

  “Oh.” She falls back in her seat, her shoulders sagging. Again, chefs love to brag so I’m not surprised by Natalie’s reaction. But she doesn’t question me any further and I’m sure it’s only because she’s new. I’m thankful for her silence and I’m eager to move on from the conversation.

  “Come on. I’ll show you the best way to take inventory.” I pop another Tic Tac in my mouth, and pick up my
phone, quickly finishing the text I was sending to Lena. My fingers tap against the screen, entering my passcode. The day Lena and I got married. I quickly tap send, close out my messages, then drop my phone on my desk. Natalie follows me out of my office as I lead her through the kitchen to the two large freezers in the back. “We start with the freezers first.”

  I spend the next few hours showing Natalie the ins and outs of taking inventory. I don’t get the chance to respond to Lena’s text since I spend my time ensuring I’m giving Natalie all the important information Max expects me to give. But teaching Natalie the ropes of inventory and what items go where, I still can’t get my mind off my wife. Lena’s text felt off, leaving an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. I promised her I would tear the shed down a long time ago but had yet to follow through. I sometimes wondered whether that made me a bad husband or not.

  There are moments when our marriage is just where I imagined it would be. We’ve come a long way since Providence, however, there are still those moments where I wonder if we made the best decision by leaving. I first met Lena when she was in a relationship so ours started out more as friends. But the more time I spent with her; I soon learned her relationship with Julian wasn’t all that it seemed. Lena and Julian were a smoldering bed of hot coals and Lena took careful consideration with where she stepped, careful to take the coal with the least burn.

  “Chef?”

  “Yeah?” I blink, staring at Natalie as she stands next to me, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

  “What do we do with the paperwork now that we have everything accounted for?” She seems kind. Guilt ebbs its way into my chest. In the past few hours, I’ve learned that Natalie is a genuine, hardworking chef. She deserves more than my half-ass attempt to teach her the way Max likes to run his restaurant.

  “I’m sorry.” I massage the bridge of my nose with my fingertips, hoping to rub away the fog that has clouded my head this morning. “There’s a file in my office on my desk labeled ‘inventory’. We put all the records in there for Max to go over.” I point to my office. “Here, I’ll show you.”

  “Excuse me, Chef?” Both Natalie and I turn our attention to Emily, one of the hostesses. She emerges from the swinging doors dividing the kitchen from the dining room. ”I’m sorry to interrupt but there’s a man here who says he wants to speak with you.”

  “Did he tell you his name?” I swallow, ignoring the way my heart skipped the moment Emily said someone was here for me. It’s hard not to always be skeptical of people around me.

  “I’m so sorry.” Emily winces. “He told me, but I can’t remember. Jared distracted me when he dropped one of the glasses from behind the bar.”

  With my mouth closed, I stare at the swinging door to the dining room, over Emily’s shoulder. Emily’s comment about Jared shattering one of our glasses doesn’t even phase me. I’m too consumed by the stranger who came into my restaurant and asked to speak with me.

  Nerves getting the better of me, I try to delay seeing who the man could be. “Do you mind telling him I’ll be out in a minute? I just need to show Natalie where the paperwork goes.”

  Emily’s mouth drops open, ready to speak but Natalie stops her. “Actually, if you don’t want to keep him waiting, I can put these papers away for you.” She’s still holding on to the papers, her bright eyes staring up at me.

  “Are you sure?” I try to tone down the nervousness clearly laced in my voice. I really need to keep it together. Despite my nerves, I resign to let Natalie do this simple task so I can do my job properly.

  “Of course.” Natalie grins, pointing back to my office. “You said the file is on your desk?”

  “Yes, it’s to the right of my computer. Thank you.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, right?”

  I lightly laugh. “Right.”

  Natalie spins around on her heel. She walks with a bounce to her step as she rounds the corner and down the small hall leading to my office. Once Natalie has disappeared, I turn to find Emily has left me too. I stand in the kitchen listening to the quiet knife cuts coming from my prep cooks, readying myself the best I can before pushing open the swinging door. My foot lands against the polished hardwood, the sounds of the kitchen muting as the door closes behind me. I grab on to the bottom hem of my chef jacket, pulling it down to straighten out any wrinkles. I’m nervous and I can’t help it. My shoes pad across the floor with a dull thud but every sound is sharp to my ears. I’m being ridiculous and I know it.

  The closer I get to the host stand, the more my nerves race. I wish I hadn’t left my pack of Tic Tacs back in my office. The four chambers of my heart work harder, the beating drowning out the sharp sound of my feet. A tall, slim man is standing by the host stand, the jacket of his suit stretched across the planes of his back. He’s turned away from me as he stares at the busy downtown Seattle street. My anxiety only ramps up the smaller the distance becomes between me and the man in the too perfect suit. A piece of me cracks, remembering the only man I’ve ever known to wear suits practically every day of his life. The same man who tried to kill me. The same man who can’t seem to let go of my wife.

  I don’t have the chance to speak when the man suddenly turns around. He must have heard me coming over the hushed tune of music pouring from our speaker system throughout the dining room. My breath catches in my throat, studying the man’s features. I’m expecting to find those familiar blue eyes, the ones that burned with fire to drain the life from my body. Instead, I’m met with dark brown eyes and a grin.

  My whole body deflates in relief, immediately recognizing who the man is. The blood returns to my body, pumping through my veins at a normal pace. My chest swells, relishing in the air that’s now returned.

  The man reaches out his hand. “Logan Moore. It’s good to see you.”

  “Mr. James.” I return the gesture. I can feel myself smiling at the sight of him. “It’s good to see you as well.” I swallow. “What brings you down here?”

  Gavin James is Seattle’s top architect and one of the richest men on the entire west coast. He’s also our biggest client. Nine months ago, he conducted a fundraiser for underprivileged youth throughout the world, declaring it a passion of his to help the less fortunate. Luckily, he’d hired our restaurant to cater it for him. Catering for Gavin had basically put us on the map with the west coast and our revenues have skyrocketed ever since. Max and I have also been forced to put in a strict reservation-only policy from the surge in customers.

  “Well, Logan, I was hoping you and Max would be interested in catering another event for me. My firm will be throwing a fundraising gala in three months. I figured the last event went so well, I’d love to hire you again.”

  “Three months?” I say, knowing three months isn’t typically enough time to prepare for an event like the kind Gavin tends to arrange.

  “Yes, I hope that’s okay.” His eyebrows knit in concern, but his eyes remain soft. His kindness surprises me considering the field of work he’s in. “About twice a year, I try to put on a fundraiser and hold some sort of event. This one will be a bit more formal as I’m looking to put on a silent auction as well.”

  I blow out a surprised breath, shocked that Gavin wanted to hire us once again. I maintain my composure, knowing Max wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. Regardless, I know that when it comes to Max, you never assume. “I’ll have to speak with Max about it, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t agree to it.”

  “Great.” Gavin grins. He pulls out his phone and starts tapping away at the screen. “I will let my secretary know to send you and Max both an email with the details of the event.” He hasn’t once looked back up at me, his fingers moving at a rapid pace. “You know, what style of cocktails and theme I’m looking for this time around. That sort of stuff.” Once Gavin’s fingers have stopped, he finally looks up from his phone, lifting his arm and flicking his wrist to look at his obviously way too expensive watch. “Oh, I’ve got to run.” Before I’m able to utter
another word, Gavin quickly shakes my hand and starts backing up toward the front door. “Like I said, Logan, it was great to see you. I look forward to hearing from you and Max.”

  Once I’m sure Gavin has left, I head back to the office to check on Natalie. I reach inside my pocket for my phone but when my hand comes up empty, I remember how I left it on my desk earlier.

  When I reach the doorway to my office, I hear shuffling papers and the familiar squeak of my office chair. I stand in the doorway and find Natalie sitting in my chair. She sits up, straightening her back at the sight of me. “I—” she stutters nervously. “I’m sorry, Chef. I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do so I figured it was probably best if I stayed in your office. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation in case it was someone important here to see you.”

  “Oh. It’s fine.” I sigh, spotting my phone beside my computer. Natalie’s eyes follow me as I reach out to pick it up, turning it over in my hand. The screen is already lit up. I figure it must be from a notification but when I type in my four-digit passcode, there are no new notifications. None. Instead, my phone is already open to my text thread with Lena. I must not have closed it out before I put my phone down to take inventory with Natalie earlier.

  Beneath the last text I sent to Lena are five messages and all five are spaced out in fifteen-minute increments. Worried, I look at the time in the top corner of my screen. It’s after noon.

  “Shit.”

  “Is everything okay?” Natalie asks. She’s still sitting in my chair, her arm resting on my desk.

  “I have to go.”

  “Wait.” Natalie sits up, her eyes spread wide. “We’re done?”

  “For today.” I swipe my Tic Tacs from my desk along with my keys. I promised Lena I would be home for lunch and I don’t want her thinking I completely forgot our date.

  “But...”