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“I love… those shoes. They’re perfect with your outfit.”
Mia lets out a sudden breath and slaps my chest. “Asshole,” she laughs. “But thank you. I got them at–”
“I love you,” I say quickly. “You’re going to have to learn to deal with that, because I’m not sure anything you say or do can convince me to stop loving you like this.”
She laughs, then her face goes serious a second later. “Maybe I love you, too. And you’d better hope you can deal with that.”
“I’ll manage,” I say, pulling her close and wrapping my arms around her. I close my eyes and rest my chin on her head as she melts into me.
I think about how the interview team is probably still wondering if we’ll come back, along with my teammates and friends. But they can wait. Right now, I’ve got everything I could possibly want, and she’s right here in my arms.
41
EPILOGUE - MIA
The sounds of the kitchen at Taste are in full swing. Pans are sizzling, guests are chatting from the dining room, and Edgar is pounding out dough somewhere in the back while he swears in French. Apparently, Grams has been teaching him French because she likes when he talks dirty to her in foreign languages. That nugget of information is just one in the long list of things I wish I could burn from my memory.
“Special guest tonight,” I say. “Are you nervous?”
Nolan is beside me on the line. He’s wearing a black chef’s coat and pants. He looks ridiculously good, even if the kitchen is the one place I find myself wishing I could shrink him down a little bit. Having a tall, muscular boyfriend is all fun and games until you’re trying to share a small space with him.
“I don’t get nervous,” he says simply.
I grin. “Liar. You were biting your nails when we watched Alone because you wanted that guy you liked to win so badly.”
“That was anticipation, not nerves. There’s a big difference. And if I’m nervous to cook for Zander fucking Russo, then I’m an embarrassment. Zander can get fucked if he doesn’t like what I cook for him tonight.”
I roll my eyes, smiling. “You care. It’s okay to admit it.”
Nolan shrugs, then gives me a little bump with his shoulder. “I’m slightly nervous.”
“He’s here,” Paisley says. She’s peeking out from the edge of the kitchen toward the dining room.
Zander pops into the kitchen. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. I’m not used to seeing him out of his chef’s clothes, so I don’t recognize him for a split second.
“Hey,” he says, smiling as Paisley comes up to hug him. I give him a quick hug, making sure not to drag it out at risk of re-igniting Nolan’s inner caveman.
Nolan and Zander fist bump, then do the little back slapping guy hug, where they have to whack eachother hard enough to offset any implication their physical contact might otherwise imply.
Edgar gives Zander an elbow bump because his hands are covered in dough. “Nice outfit,” Edgar says, givingan up and down assessment. “You about to audition for a role in Grease after you finish up here?”
“Maybe it’s how your mother likes me to dress,” Zander says, grinning.
“You wanna fuck my mother, you better bring a shovel, you creep.”
They both grin and Zander gives Edgar a full-blown hug, ignoring the white handprints Edgar leaves on his nice jacket.
“I’ve been reading the reviews,” Zander says, pulling back from the hug. “They’re absolutely glowing.”
“You hired a good one,” Nolan says, folding his arms and giving me a proud look.
I gush under his praise. Sometimes, I think maybe it’s a little sad how good it makes me feel when he compliments me, but I don’t really care. Nolan is always trying to heap as much of the credit for Taste’s growing success on my shoulders, and I love him for it. He’s so selfless. “Nolan is just being modest,” I say.
“Yeah, yeah,” Zander laughs. “You’re both lovestruck and want to give each other credit. But I’m happy for all of you. After that asshole’s dad review bombed us, I honestly wondered if Taste’s reputation would recover. Nobody even seems to remember his review anymore, unless it’s his colleagues referencing it to say how baffled they are that he didn’t like the food here. If anything, it’s like he only managed to tank his reputation. Must feel good.”
“It does,” Paisley says. “That dude can suck on a bag of old dicks.”
“Don’t knock old dick till you try it,” Edgar says. “And no, you can’t try mine. It’s spoken for. And sore. My girl really knows how to work the stick shift.”
