CHAPTER
THREE
Madison didn’t like having one ear cocked toward the door.
She hadn’t done that since living in the roach motel apartment she’d grown up in with her father in Liberty City. In those days, she’d listened for crazies breaking in looking to find any money they could use to feed their drug habit.
Even Pierre had caught her nervousness as she prowled around the kitchen, prepping for their New Year’s family dinner. The parrot watched her from his perch, his black eyes missing nothing, and called out softly,“Ça va?”to which she responded tightly,“Ça va.”
You had to love the French. The same two words. Two different meanings, depending on the punctuation. Except she wasn’t fine. Nothing was good. And she didn’t know where the hell Kyle was.
Sure, she’d slipped out to walk off some of her frustration this morning. But he was supposed to be here, calmly waiting like usual at the kitchen island, paper in hand with acafé crème.
Where could he be? It was New Year’s morning. Nothing was open, and he wasn’t really a walker. He’d probablytossed and turned like she had after leaving the party at different times. She’d had a good excuse—fatigue from her holiday restaurant hours—and he’d let her go home alone.
She’s appreciated the space, since the After-Kiss was worse than any Morning After she’d had.
She stirred the batter for her Tres Leches cake, poured it into the pan, and set it in the oven. Since Thea and Jean Luc were supposed to still be on their honeymoon, she’d told Nanine she’d make dessert.
Sure, little sister had popped back early, but she’d already made the commitment.
Her mind flashed back to last night, to getting caught making out with Kyle in the hallway like they were in high school. God, she’d been embarrassed going back into the party. Everyone knew… Of course they did. Today’s dinner was going to be fun. But she really needed to talk to Kyle.
“Pierre!” She set the timer for the cake and fought the urge to pound her head on the kitchen island. “Madison messed up last night.”
He gave one of his scary almost humanlike cries as he flew to her shoulder. Nuzzling her hair with his beak, he squawked,“Non. Tout est bien.”
She hugged the little guy, her most surprising friend of all.
Well, she’d become best friends with the Golden Boy. Why not a culinary-minded parrot?
“Iwisheverything was good.”
An errant sound had her jumping, but it was only something metal in the oven expanding due to the cooking temperature. She hated being on edge, but a certain kind of danger hung in the air. The sense that her whole life could change on a dime.
She’d felt that way walking home from school as a kid with gangs casing the corners, and when her father had come home drunk again with no money, ensuring there would beno groceries. Learning to cook had been as much about finding a way to feed herself as creating an escape. She’d learned cooking was like a puzzle at first.
Later, she’d discovered mastery. How to blend different flavors, textures, and even colors to create a work of art people would write about in food magazines and tell their friends they must try.
She loved her job as much as she loved Kyle, and she didn’t think she could have both.
Another sound had Pierre squawking, and this time she heard footsteps. Only they weren’t Kyle’s. His had a heavier sound, given his height and size. These steps belonged to a woman, and she didn’t have Brooke’s rapid-fire gait. When Thea appeared in the doorway in a chic black traveling suit, Madison wanted to bang her head on the counter all over again.
“What are you doing here?Thea, I’m sorry about what happened last night. If you’re here because you’re worried about me and Kyle, don’t be. Get back to your honeymoon. Please!”
Her honorary little sister only smiled as she walked over and wrapped her up in a gentle hug. Pierre flew to the kitchen island to give them a moment. She tried not to be awkward in the face of so much love.
After a moment, Thea leaned back, her face soft with concern. “I came to talk to you before Jean Luc and I head out again. Will you sit down with me?”
She’d rather gut a fish, but Thea was her friend. “Sure.”
She slid onto a barstool and tugged Madison down next to her before reaching into her purse and pulling something out. “This is for you.”
A recipe card?
“Do you have a new bread you want to try for the bakery?”
Thea only gave her an indulgent smile. “No. This is a starter recipe for you to work on. Do you remember when we’d get those in culinary school, and the assignment was to create our own spin on the template?”
