Zach’s mouth dropped open. “What are you saying? How could you write those things about me, then?”
“At one point you came out of the kitchen, and I heard you talking to another patron. I don’t remember exactly what you said, but you sounded so full of yourself, talking about the ‘proper way to do things.’ I know now that it was your commitment to excellence talking—and maybe some self-doubt.”
“Ava.” Zach’s voice was low, dangerous. “I fail to see how any of this is supposed to make me feel better. You wrote a critical review because you thought I was stuck-up.”
“No! I didn’t write a bad review. By the time I got home, I’d decided to ignore my observations of you and just focus on the food.” She needed air. “But then I sat down in front of my computer and froze. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. So”—she swallowed hard—“I tried using a writing prompt from schoolwhere you write the opposite, or at least something different than what you plan to say. It unlocked my brain from having to be perfect so I could write the real thing.”
“The real thing.” Zach leaned forward. “So, the review printed in the newspaper was the real thing?”
“No!” She was mangling this explanation. “That was the result of the writing prompt. My real review was a glowing one. Five stars. Or five forks, I guess, since that was the rating system theCourierused.”
Zach fell back against the bench. “Let me get this straight. You came to my restaurant, loved the food, didn’t care for me, went home, wrote a terrible article about my restaurant, then wrote a good one, but somehow the bad one ended up in the newspaper?”
“That’s about ri?—”
He held his hand up. “And then, your very bad review—the imagery is still seared into my brain, by the way, vivid—tanked my restaurant, which led to bankruptcy, caused my girlfriend to break up with me, and sent me on a series of dead-end cooking jobs in order to get my life back on track? And now you’re telling me it was all a mistake?”
Hearing it all together like that—the restaurant, the bankruptcy, the breakup—made the whole thing ten times worse. And it was already very bad. Her lungs felt tight, like she couldn’t get enough air.
Zach sighed. He rubbed his temples. “I can see why you wanted me to know all of that. I wish I could say it makes me feel better, but it just doesn’t.” He stood and paced a few steps. Then he tapped his fist on his leg three times. “I just want to put this whole thing behind me. I have some good opportunities in front of me if I can just focus on them.”
Not forgiveness. Not really. But it was close enough. The band around her chest loosened by one notch.
How was it possible that she felt both better and worse? She had thought that telling him would make him feel better, maybe even forgive her faster. Then they could move on and…what? Be together? But she was moving to Jonathon Island, and he wanted to live on the West Coast. There was no future there. Whatever had been developing between her and Zach wasn’t meant to be.
Ava hadn’t intended the bad review? One of the most pivotal events of his life, arguablythemost pivotal event, and it was all a mistake. Not only that, but the woman he’d spent the past six years being angry at wasn’t who he expected at all.
It was all leaving him confused.
Her quiet words had torn the scab off a wound that still festered. And yet, he couldn’t square those old feelings with the new ones he was acquiring.
He ran a hand through his hair and took a minute to compose his thoughts. Shouts of laughter occasionally drifted from the festival area, disrupting the quiet around the gazebo and surrounding hotel grounds. The scent of hot oil and caramelized sugar also drifted over. His stomach rumbled, but he didn’t think it was only because of hunger.
“Do you have any questions for me?” Ava looked at him as though she were afraid of what he would say.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Like back in Seattle?”
“I tried to get the newspaper to print a retraction, but I was so new that they wouldn’t go for it. That review got tons of hits online. And then my parents shared it with their fans…” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “After trying for a few weeks, I finallydecided to come see you for myself, to apologize and explain. By then, you were already gone.”
That tracked. “I moved to Austin two months after Peach failed. What a dead-end job that turned out to be. A line cook in a catering kitchen where the recipes included barbecued beef and pretty much only barbecued beef.” He’d begun cooking on autopilot. Living on autopilot.
Moving to Saratoga Springs and even New York City hadn’t helped. And now at Escargot, with Chef Louie blocking him whenever he could, he was on the same trajectory. In fact, since Seattle, he’d been on autopilot in all areas of his life. Romantically, financially, and spiritually.
He was tired of it.
Time to get out of this stale half-life of his.
He looked at Ava. Over the last few weeks, he’d learned that she was nothing like the monster he’d built in his head. He liked spending time with her. He wanted to fully forgive her, to trust her. Like Pastor Arnie said in his message the other night, just as the Lord forgave you, and all of that.
Maybe he needed to take drastic action.
“Ava, would you like to go on a date with me?” Okay, not his smoothest proposal, but the words were out there. They hung in the air for a moment, and his chest grew tight with the breath he was holding.
Ava raised her eyebrows. “You really want to go on a date. With me.”
“Look, I’m not going to deny that all of this has thrown me for a loop. I’d rather just forget the whole thing, but instead I’m going to work on forgiveness.” Bitterness wasn’t worth it, he was learning, except when needed for balance in a dish. “And despite a big mistake from a long time ago, I like you, Ava. I’d like to see if we have any kind of future.”
“Then, yes, I’d love to go on a date with you.”
