“You think I shouldn’t sell.”
Herman and Chester share a look. “What are you going to do at some other restaurant that you can’t do here?” Chester asks.
“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” Kiara says, coming in through the back door.
I squeeze my eyes shut briefly. “Please tell me you didn’t plan this.”
“No.” She kisses Chester, who rests his forehead against hers for a moment. I swallow the spike of jealousy, the overwhelming desire to do that again with Poppy. “I came to give you something.”
“What is it?” I ask warily.
“Why don’t you think you can run this place?” she counters.
I sit back on my heels. Kiara isn’t in a rush to hand over whatever she has to give me, apparently, because she joins us on the floor. She opens the next box of provisions. I’m quiet, watching as she digs through a crate of mangos. She holds up a ripe one, pressing her nose against it to inhale the sweet scent.
“You saw how hard it was for Sal to run the restaurant,” I say eventually. “I can fake it for a few months, sure, but it’s not like it’s a game.”
“You like challenges.”
“I like cooking.”
“You’ve been doing both so far, and without a full staff.”
“It’s not elevated enough.”
She snorts. “Are you kidding? Your plates are works of art.” The tip of her shoe nudges against mine. “Or are we not good enough in Diamond Bay for the fancy stuff?”
“Yeah, man,” Chester echoes.
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“Herm,” I say without looking at him. “Give us a few minutes?”
When he’s gone, I take the mango out of Kiara’s hands. I cut into it, easing out the pit, and hand half to Kiara. I bite into my half, feeling weary even though we’ve barely started this conversation. It’s been circling; I’ve been expecting it. Never mind that Ki will make millions in the sale.
“Chester told me that Poppy’s dad offered to bring you to the airport with him.”
I sigh, looking at Chester, who just shrugs, taking a bite of the mango Kiara holds out to him. “I could have gone on my own if I wanted.”
“Oh, sure.” She nibbles the edge of the mango, catching a drip of juice with her thumb. “That was the issue. You didn’t want to.”
“I’m too busy for this,” I say shortly, standing. “I have to check on the stocks.”
“You can’t keep running from this. From everything.”
“Why not?” I give the stock pot an aggressive stir. The smell of vegetables wafts through the air, buoyed by the rich depth of animal fat. The mango tastes sour in the back of my throat. “It’s working out well so far.”
“Why can’t you let yourself be happy for once?”
“I am happy. And I don’t know why you’re fighting me on this so fucking hard.” It’s a struggle to moderate my voice, but Kiara is trapping me in a corner, the same corner Poppy put me in, and I’m sick of the ultimatums. As if happiness is a right, and I’m the only fool not taking advantage. Of course I want the restaurant; when I’m honest with myself, it’s all I want, but I can’t take it over after how badly I broke my relationship with Sal. I can’t pretend that I didn’t reject him, and this life, in the first place.
“You’re going to make a ton of money from the sale,” I add, unable to keep from clinging to that possibility. “You’ll be free and clear to do whatever you want with your life. And I’ll find another kitchen. Poppy’s gone—”
“She’s gone because you pushed her away!” Kiara’s eyes are glittering. Her voice takes on a jagged quality. “And how could you still think I’d care about a bunch of money more than you? I want you in my life. Stop shutting all of us out and listen for a change.”
She pulls something out of her pocket. An envelope. She worries it between her fingers.
