He looks sheepish. “Yeah, worked directly under the Michelin-star chef, Pierre Benoit.”
“Wait. I’ve heard of him! He’s on the Foodie Network.”
“You watch the Foodie Network?” he asks, surprised.
“Do you think I love bacon by accident?” I laugh.
Jack laughs, hearty and loud. We grin at each other, goofy.
“What was I even saying?” Jack asks, after a beat.
“Your worst Valentine’s.”
“Right.” He frowns as if he tastes something rotten. “So, Valentine’s Day is any restaurant’s big night. Pierre naturally asked me to work. But Mal was upset about that.”
I perk up at the mention of Mal. I’ve been wanting to ask how it ended, and I have a feeling I’m going to find out. “What? Did she think nobody wants desserts on Valentine’s Day?”
Jack laughs. “I promised to take her on the most romantic date of her life on February fifteenth, but she just wouldn’t have it. It was Valentine’s Day or nothing. She said everyone would have already posted their pictures and it would be too late. And threatened that if I went into work, she’d do something I wouldn’t like.”
“Wow.” Petulant much?
“So, while I’m at work, she texts me a photo of herself.” Jack glances at Allie, still watching TV, and lowers his voice. “In bed with her brother-in-law.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my God. No way.”
“Yeah. That really happened.” He nods his head, a frustration line appearing between his eyebrows. “Needless to say, I’m beside myself. I don’t even finish my shift. I run home.”
“What happened?” My stomach tightens.
“Well, I was too late. He’s gone. I confront her. She admits they’ve slept together. We argue. She tells me that she had to get my attention somehow.”
I must have an incredulous look on my face, because he adds, “She had a rough childhood. Her parents neglected her. Sometimes, she acts out.”
“With her sister’s husband?” I cry, outraged.
“Well, she has issues with her sister, too.” Jack flashes me a wry smile.
“Clearly.” I shake my head, dumbfounded. Nami and I might bicker about small stuff, but neither one of us would ever cross that line. “There’s acting out, and then there’s being a child. At some point, we’re adults, and we have to take ownership of our sh—” I pause and glance at Allie, who has just at that moment tuned into our conversation. “—stuff,” I finish, flashing her a smile. Allie just nods, and turns back to the TV.
“But anyway, it gets worse. Turns out, her brother-in-law is one of Pierre’s major investors. He threatened to pull his support for the restaurant, so Pierre had no other option but to fire me. I don’t blame Pierre. I don’t. He felt terrible about it.”
“That’s awful, Jack.” I’m grateful that he trusts me enough to share this. He’s let me have my first peek behind the curtainstrung across his heart, and now I see he’s also been living with old scars made from deep wounds.
“Mal just never really got why it was a big deal. She always said with her money, I didn’t need to work. Never mind that I love working. That I take pride in it. I couldn’t trust her anymore, so I called off the wedding.” Jack exhales, and his shoulders sag, his whole body seeming to fold under the weight of her dismissing his profession and, thus, dismissing him. The bitter note in his voice makes me worry he still cares a little about what she thinks.
“You called off the wedding?” I keep my voice neutral, even though I’m surprised. I actually thought Mal might have done the leaving. Because I remember Mal at the grocery store the day Jack and I reconnected. The lunch plans that were never exactly explained. After this terrible end to their relationship, how could they even be on speaking terms?
“I did,” he tells me, jaw twitching. “It was the right decision.”
“Definitely.” I hesitate, wondering if I should ask if he still has feelings for Mal. But that question seems too direct. Too dangerous. If I poke too much, I might send him running. Men have ghosted me for far less. I’ve learned the hard way that men share only what they want to share. If you ask for more, you’re greedy. Demanding. Difficult.
Of course, Jack seems different. The ice looks thick enough to walk on, but do I really want to risk it by trying?
“Have you thought about taking up country music?” I opt for a flippant joke, an orange life ring that I hope will float him to the surface, away from his painful past. Away from Mal. I hate to admit that I’m jealous of any time he spends with her, even if it’s in his mind.
“Often.”
“We could write a song about how we prefer beer to Valentine’s Day,” I offer. “It would be a huge hit.”
