“It’s me,” she said, giving a little wave. She felt awkward andself-conscious. She hesitated, glancing around at the familiar faces. They had spent hundreds of hours side by side, working shoulder to shoulder. The thought that she had harmed their reputations or demeaned their efforts in any way filled her with a deep sense of regret.
“Where have you been?” asked Celine softly. “We were worried about you.” She laid the herbs on the cutting board and came around the counter toward Georgia, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I had a family emergency in America,” Georgia said truthfully. No need to get into the details. “I’m actually headed back there first thing tomorrow morning.”
“You are leaving Paris?” Ismael seemed shocked. He glanced down at the soup and gave it a quick stir.
“Good riddance,” Cyril muttered.
“I’m leaving Paris,” Georgia said, ignoring Cyril’s ugly tone. She took a deep breath. “But I had to come see you before I went. I couldn’t leave without saying something to you.” She looked at each of them, her Paris kitchen family, the people she’d worked side by side with for so many late nights, so many meals. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The night Antoine Dupont came here, I chose revenge. I was angry, and I wanted to make Etienne pay for cheating on me with Manon, but what I did was unfair to all of you who have worked so hard for this restaurant. I’ve regretted it ever since it happened. It was wrong and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
No one said anything for a long moment. Ismael shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Damien cleared his throat and looked sideways at the others.
But then Celine stepped forward and embraced Georgia like a sister. She was still holding the huge chef’s knife. “If it was meI would have cut off his balls,” she whispered fiercely in Georgia’s ear. “I should have told you when I saw him with Manon. I regret this.”
“Thank you.” Georgia returned the hug. “I forgive you. I hope you can forgive me.” Over Celine’s shoulder, she saw Ismael duck his head and shoot her a shy smile.
“You created so much drama.” Damien wagged his finger in her direction, chastising.
“I know and I’m sorry,” Georgia said regretfully.
“Good thing I love drama,” he announced airily, then blew her two kisses from across the room and disappeared back into the dining room. Only Cyril ignored her, keeping his face turned away as though she had not spoken.Well, you can’t win them all, Georgia thought. At least she had tried to do the right thing and admit her mistake and apologize. It was Cyril’s choice if he would accept her apology or not. She stepped back from Celine and looked around the kitchen with a twinge of sadness.
“I’ll miss you,” she told Celine and Ismael honestly. “Come see me wherever I end up.” Then she asked the question she didn’t really want to know the answer to. “Is Etienne here?”
“He went to get something in the back.” Celine jerked her thumb toward the back hallway.
Stomach tightening with apprehension, Georgia walked down the hallway where only a handful of weeks before, her life had completely unraveled. It felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since then. Her life was different. She was different.
The refrigerator door was open, and she had an unpleasant sense of déjà vu. She straightened her shoulders and mustered her courage. She could hear rustling and muttering from the refrigerator. Etienne’s voice. She almost turned away, but the muttering was him swearing in French, sounding irritated. It was highlyunlikely anything amorous was happening in there. She rapped lightly on the refrigerator door so as not to startle him.
“Entrez.” That voice. So urbane and annoyed. She pulled the door open, and there was Etienne, trying to wrestle a Serrano ham from a hook on the ceiling. At the sight of her, he looked dumbstruck.
“Georgia?” His hands dropped to his sides. The ham swung on its hook, clearly stuck and quite heavy. He was perspiring slightly. Warily, he sized her up.
“Hello, Etienne.” She sounded calmer than she felt. Through her mind flashed the image of the last time she’d seen him, pants unzipped, his eyes frantic as she slammed this very door. His eyes cut to the door, and he looked a trifle uneasy. She suspected the same thought had just crossed his mind. She felt the sting of humiliation afresh, looking at him now. How could he have done that to her, to their relationship? Had she really mattered so little to him?
He gave up on the ham and crossed his arms, his eyes darting around her, not meeting her eyes. She had caught him off guard, she realized.He’s trying to figure out why I’m here.
“I heard you left Paris,” he said flatly.
And whose fault is that?she wanted to retort, but she bit back the words. It had been for the best. If she had not left Paris, she never would have found Star or learned about the gift she carried.
“I went to see my mom,” she said mildly. “Do you need some help with the ham?”
He waved away her offer. He looked tired. He was starting to show his age—the lack of sleep and stress and excessive drinking.
“I’m leaving Paris,” she added. “Going back to the States, actually.”
He nodded. They faced each other then, neither speaking. He gave her a stony look. She returned his coolly.
“What are you doing here, Georgia?” he asked finally, his tone reproachful. He stepped out of the refrigerator. “You got your pound of flesh. Monsieur Dupont ripped us apart in his review thanks to you. The restaurant has suffered as a result. You got what you wanted. Why come back?” He looked petulant.
Georgia gazed at him, trying to reconcile all the faces of Etienne. His sweet, boyish smile waking up in the morning sunlight. The wicked tilt of his mouth as he’d whispered in her ear in public, telling her how gorgeous she looked, how lucky he was to be with her. That earnest, intent gaze as he carefully selected choice ingredients at the market, how he monitored each plate as it left the kitchen, and the way his brow furrowed as he pored over the accounts. He loved this restaurant and he worked hard. She had done them all a disservice when she set the ruined plate of fish in front of Antoine Dupont. Etienne had the morals of a snake in the grass, but her sabotage of his restaurant had targeted the wrong thing. He had been wrong to cheat on her with Manon, but she had been wrong in her response to his betrayal. She cleared her throat. The words stuck there like crumbs of dry bread.
“I came to apologize,” she said, forcing them out at last. She knew it was the right thing to do, to take responsibility for her own wrong action, but it felt hard. He had wronged her first. She felt the sting of that humiliation still.
Etienne raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Apologize,” he repeated. He stepped out of the refrigerator and shut the door behind him.
