by Sarah Smith
“And tell them what?” I bark back. “That you’ve been harassing me and my customers all morning—all week actually? Please do. You’ll save me the trouble of picking up the phone. I was going to report you to them anyway.”
Mrs. Tokushige walks up next to me, the look on her face something between determined and ferocious. “He elbowed me yesterday when I was standing in line. I think he’s the reason I’ve got this bruise on my arm.”
The stubborn vlogger is now irate. His wide eyes dart from me to Mrs. Tokushige, then back to me.
“So you’ve been physically assaulting people as well? I bet the police would love to hear that.” I glare at him.
Penelope hops over to my other side. “The other day that guy tried to slip me a twenty to get me to tell him secrets about you. Scum.”
“Bribery too?” I say. “Another interesting fact to relay to law enforcement.”
I pat Penelope on the shoulder, thankful that she’s more than just a customer now. We regularly meet up at each other’s places for drinks and chats. I vent to her about the Callum situation and random life stresses. I learned her relationship with her ex-boyfriend ended the month after she moved to Maui for him when she caught him cheating. She almost booked a ticket back to her home in Cincinnati, but she decided to try making things work here on her own. So she put her Instagram hobby to professional use and started a social media consulting company, which explains her killer Instagram following and how she’s free most days to take her lunch all the way out at my food truck in Makena. Right now, she’s the greatest friend I could ask for.
I wink at her, then turn back to the offending vlogger, who opens his mouth to speak, but then starts coughing up leftover soda.
“I’d love to see you cited for your shitty behavior,” I say. “Call the police. I dare you.”
Instead of dialing the police or saying anything, he stomps past us and down the road, muttering curses along the way.
I hug Mrs. Tokushige and Penelope. “Thank you both. Seriously. He’s been driving me insane. They all have actually.”
Penelope pulls me into another hug. “I’ve got your back. And nothing will keep me from your delicious cooking, not even some douchebag paparazzi wannabe.”
I turn to address the remaining vloggers. “Anyone else have anything to say?”
They all stand quietly while shaking their heads “no.”
“Good. I have customers to feed. If you want to eat something, line up just like everyone else. If not, please get the hell out of here.”
The remaining vloggers take their place in line.
Penelope walks back to the truck with me. “That’s probably not going to be the last time they’ll try to bother you.”
“I know. But the prospect of being attacked with soda bombs should scare them off for a few days, though, right?”
Penelope chuckles and I hop back into the truck, where I’m greeted with Mom’s disapproving frown. I can hear the words before she speaks them, about how unladylike it was for me to react that way, that she didn’t raise her daughter to act like a barbarian just because someone was rude.
I sigh. “Okay. Let me have it.”
A soft hand lands on my arm. She flashes a smile. “You gave that jerk exactly what he deserved.”
She pulls me into a hug. My phone buzzing in my back pocket interrupts our embrace. Another unfamiliar number.
I muster my newfound boldness, endorsed by my mom, and pick up the phone. “I swear to God, if you call me one more time—”
“Um, is this Nikki DiMarco?” It’s a shaky English accent on the other end of the phone. Not Callum’s though. My chest throbs.
“Who is this?”
“Ted, from Travaasa Hana.” He clears his throat. My face promptly bursts into flames. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”
With my free hand, I cover my eyes. Like that will do much good while I’m dying of embarrassment on my end of this phone conversation. I just snapped at the general manager of the Travaasa Hana resort. Well done me.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“It’s quite all right.” He lets out a good-natured laugh. “Things have been stressful lately, haven’t they?”
His soft tone, the obvious empathy in his voice helps dial back the embarrassment a touch. I wonder if he’s read all the crazy stuff online about Callum and me. I wonder if he’s seen the shaky video of us having it out at the festival. Last I checked, which was a few days ago, the video that @IEatEverything posted was up to nearly fifty thousand views. So yeah, he’s probably seen it.
I swallow back the urge to groan out loud.
Ted clears his throat again. “I was wondering if you were still interested in being our featured chef at the resort once a week.”
“Oh.”
Memories of the night Callum and I served a surprise three-course Easter dinner at a high-end resort on a total whim swoop through me. I blink and see Callum’s full lips stretched into a satisfied smile when we finished serving, every single diner raving about our dishes. I blink again and see his naked form in the hot tub of our room. I remember his hands on my body, his breath on my skin, his heart beating so hard, I felt it inside me.
I hear the words he spoke to me in that delicious guttural whisper.
Good would be doing this with you every day. Good would be getting you to admit when you’re jealous and want only me. Good would be calling you mine.
Given the way he shut me down at his condo the other day and how I haven’t heard from him since, he wouldn’t be interested in working with me ever again. A lump lodges in my throat. It’s a second before I can collect myself and answer Ted.
“I’m sorry, Ted. I can’t. As much as I want to, I just don’t think I can handle prepping another dinner with Callum. We had a falling out, in case you hadn’t heard.”
The awkward pause and throat clear on the other end of the line tells me he did indeed hear about it, just as I suspected.
“I’m sorry, I should clarify,” Ted says. “Callum won’t be part of this. I want to contract you and only you to serve a weekly dinner at the resort restaurant. Would you be interested?”
When the words sink in, I nearly drop my phone. “I don’t understand . . .”
Ted waits a beat before speaking. “Look, I’m sorry to hear about you and Callum not working out, but between you and me, he voluntarily stepped down when I called him about it a few days ago. He said he didn’t want to do the weekly service because he didn’t have it in him. He said you would do a better job of it anyway.”
I’m rendered speechless once more.
“Honestly, Nikki, he doesn’t give out compliments easily.”
I remember Ted making that exact same comment the night Callum and I collaborated on Easter dinner.
“I’ve been friends with Callum for years, and I’ve never known him to gush about anyone like he does about you,” Ted says. “It’s certainly a significant gesture that he would do something like this.”
Ted’s words trigger an image of Callum and me cuddled on his couch guzzling pink champagne while watching The Office. Our playful discussion of romantic gestures replays in my mind, how I said I preferred low-key ones—kind of like what he’s done for me just now.
My heart thuds. I swear it reverberates all the way to my throat. Maybe this is his way of showing he remembers what’s important to me—that I’m still important to him. Maybe it’s a signal that we can be something more. And maybe it’s my turn to show him how much he still means to me.
Ted clears his throat, cluing me in on the fact that I’ve said nothing for several seconds. I refocus.
“So what do you say? Are you still interested in my offer to have you cook at Travaasa?” he asks again.
He explains how much it will pay, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from squeali
ng. Adding that to our weekly food truck earnings and the festival prize money would give our savings the boost we need. Ted also mentions the prospect of heading special event dinners throughout the year. I have to remind myself that it’s unprofessional to cheer loudly while on the phone with my prospective new boss.
This is it. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, the chance to showcase just how much I can do when someone gives me an empty kitchen, a fridge full of ingredients, and creative freedom. It’s the big break I’ve been aching for since I set foot on Maui.
I take a breath and finally speak. “I’m absolutely interested.”
Ted says he’ll email me the official offer and contract soon. I hang up, feeling an ounce lighter than I did when I answered the phone.
I turn to relay the news to Mom, who takes a break from taking orders to squeal, then pulls me into a jump hug.
“Oh, I’m so proud of you!”
She chats about how she’s going to book a holiday dinner at Travaasa for her book club so she and her friends can try my gourmet menu.
I smile till my cheeks ache. Then I go to the truck window and wave over Penelope to see if she can help me pull off the idea that popped in my head while talking to Ted.
“So this is going to sound nuts, but hear me out.”
* * *
• • •
“You ready to do this?” Penelope glances at me as we sit side by side at my dining room table.
“Definitely.”
I smooth the low ponytail that’s slung over my shoulder with one hand, then run my other hand over the fabric of the silky blouse I’m wearing. This is the most dressed up I’ve been in weeks. But today’s the day I need to pull out all the stops.
“Okay,” she says. “Then let’s get started.”
She adjusts her phone, which sits atop the table, so that there’s a clear shot of her and me on the screen.
I’m about to make the grandest gesture I can think of. For Callum. My stomach is doing roundhouse kicks at the thought of how personal I’m about to get.
In the end, it will all be worth it. I hope.
I glance at Mom, who’s watching from the living room. She flashes that same encouraging smile she used to give me when I was nervous about a test or presentation in school. “You’re going to do great, anak.”
“Thank you, Mom.” I really, really hope so.
Penelope pulls up Instagram on her phone, then starts to stream a live video. My heart thuds against my chest harder than ever before. I’ve never done a live interview on social media before, let alone one where I’m about to get this personal. From the inside of my chest it feels like my heart and lungs are playing the bongos. The frenzied movement even shakes the fabric of my white blouse. But that’s just the adrenaline talking. I want to do this.
Penelope tucks her blond hair behind her ear then smiles at the screen. “Hey, everyone. I know you’re used to seeing live videos of me chowing down on yummy food or filming gorgeous sunsets, but we’re trying something a bit different today.”
She turns her attention to me. “Today I’m over the moon to have Nikki DiMarco with me. She runs the delicious Tiva’s Filipina Kusina food truck with her mom, Tiva. It’s the best eatery on Maui, as evidenced by their recent Maui Food Festival win. But sadly, that’s been a bit overlooked due to the way a lot of food vloggers and island paparazzi have been prying into your personal life.”
“That’s true, unfortunately,” I say.
“And you wanted to set the record straight.”
I nod, reminding myself to breathe. Even though it’s only me, Penelope, and Mom in the condo right now, I can practically feel the eyes of thousands of viewers on me at this moment.
But that’s what I want. I want everyone to hear what I have to say once and for all.
Penelope flashes another gentle smile that helps ease the nerves whirring inside. “The floor is yours.”
I inhale, then exhale, then dive right in. “First of all, thank you so much for letting me do this. I guess I could have done this on Tiva’s Instagram, but we have a fraction of your followers. And whenever you post or do a live video, you get an insane number of views and likes and comments. And I want as many people as possible to see this, because this is the only time I’ll ever openly discuss my relationship with Callum James from Hungry Chaps.”
With a single inhale, my heartbeat slows. “I met Callum when he and his brother, Finn, parked next to my truck near Big Beach almost four months ago. We started out as rivals, nothing more. That competition between us was one hundred percent real. So was the Maui Food Festival wager we made. I’m guessing most of the people watching this now saw videos of Callum and me arguing. Those were one hundred percent real too.”
When I think back to those ridiculous antics we pulled on each other, I don’t cringe like I used to. Instead, my chest aches. I pause to take another breath and steady myself.
“Our relationship was also real.”
I glance down at my hands folded in my lap. I wonder what Callum is doing right now.
“Close quarters can breed attraction just as effectively as it can breed contempt,” I say.
Even though Penelope knows all this, she stares at me with wide eyes, like she’s hearing it for the first time. I bet she’s wondering if I’ll elaborate for everyone who’s watching. I won’t. That unlikely chance of Callum and me being seated together on the plane ride to London is what changed everything. But I’m not sharing that with them. That’s personal, something I’ll lock away forever next to my heart, in that little space I keep Callum. It’s special and secret and belongs to no one else.
Another breath and I continue. “Every single thing that happened between Callum and me was real. Our initial dislike for each other, the tension between us, our attraction, our arguments, our relationship.”
Our kisses, the glances we stole during busy workdays, the desperate way we touched each other every single time we were together in private. The love between us, even though I waited too long to acknowledge it.
I rest my hands on my hips to steady myself. Looking at the ground seems to help. I take a much-needed breath. “We didn’t fake a single thing.”
This time when I breathe, I feel as light as the breeze flowing in through the window. Everything I’ve been holding in, everything I’ve been hiding, every secret that’s been cooking me from the inside out these past few months is out. It’s the most freeing feeling.
I finally let myself look at her phone screen. My eyes bulge when I see that several thousand people are currently viewing this livestream.
And then I decide to go with this newfound open attitude and look straight at the screen. “Any questions?”
It only takes a few seconds for the first question to pop up.
Penelope leans in to read it aloud. “Do you still keep in contact with Callum?”
For a second I contemplate answering with “not really,” since I have technically spoken to Callum since our breakup . . . just not recently. But that answer is sure to garner a wave of speculative follow-up questions that could lead to even more rumors, so I squash it. Instead I just shake my head and say, “No.”
“Do you know where he is? What he’s doing now?” Penelope reads.
“Unfortunately not.”
She hesitates before reading the next question. “Do you think there’s any hope of reconciliation for you two?”
“I . . . I hope so.”
“Do you love Callum?” Penelope practically winces when she reads it. She knows the answer. I told her. But she also knows how heartbreaking it is for me to bring up the word “love” when it comes to Callum because of how badly I messed things up the one time he told me he loved me.
I can feel my answer in every bone, every muscle, every beat of my heart, every inhale, every exhale, every blink. When it’
s this deep inside, it’s obvious on the outside too. It’s in my eyes, my body language, the tone in which I speak. I bet every single person watching me now can tell I’m still in love with Callum. Because I am. And I hope when he sees this, he’ll believe me.
“Yes, I do love him.”
“Is one more question okay?” Penelope asks in a gentle whisper.
I nod.
“If you could say anything to Callum right now, what would you say?”
“I would tell him that I’m sorry for how I hurt him, that I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him.” I pause to steady my voice. “I would tell him that my biggest regret in life is not giving us a fair shot when he asked me to. And if I could go back and do things differently, I would in a heartbeat.”
With the last of my words comes more silence. I blink, and then come the tears. Just a few, and I quickly wipe them away. But I’m not embarrassed. I didn’t anticipate crying today, but I did. Because I was open and honest and free. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. That’s me being me.
I sniffle, wiping my nose on my arm. “I think that’s all I can manage. Sorry.”
Penelope’s eyes glisten with tears when she looks at me. “Don’t be sorry.” Then she hugs me. “You’re amazing, Nikki,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m so, so proud of you.”
When she lets me go, she wipes her eyes then addresses the phone screen. “Well, that’s it, everyone. Thanks for joining us.”
Penelope ends the video just as Mom hurries over to hug me too. “I’m so proud of you, anak. Callum will love it.” She sniffles, then leans away so she can cup my face in her hands. Tears shine in her eyes. “I just know it.”
Doubt lingers at the back of my mind. My grand romantic gesture of publicly declaring my love for Callum was a risky call for sure, but I had to try. Now all that’s left is to wait and see what he does.
Penelope zips to the bathroom while Mom announces she’s going to fry up some lumpia to ease our nerves after such a tense event. I stand next to her in the kitchen and help her with the prep.
“Our girl really put herself out there today, Harold. For love,” she says as she dunks a half dozen lumpia in hot oil. “You’d be so proud of her.”
