Julia’s bright laughter fills my ear. “No way. That’s nearly as bad as the champagne at the wedding.”
My amusement fades at the reminder of that day. Julia wasn’t upset—nothing could dampen her wedding day—but of course our parents, Dad especially, had plenty to say.
“Jules?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it bad if I want some space from them?” I bite my lip, but the words tumble out anyway. I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I left for Florida. I’ve never had distance from them like this, but it might be what I need. “Like, no talking for a bit? With Mom and Dad, I mean. I still love them, obviously, it’s just...”
“Of course not.”
“Really?”
“I mean, it’s not going to be forever, right? Just for now.”
“Well, I definitely won’t miss Thanksgiving. Do you think there’s a universe where I’d give up having Mom’s sausage stuffing and Caroline’s sweet potato pie?”
“You know Caroline still won’t give me the recipe.”
“What? You’re married!”
“She says she has to keep some of the mystery alive.”
“Wow.” I’m smiling so widely I can feel it. I’m glad that Julia and Caroline found each other. I have no idea if something like that is in the cards for me, but I hope so. They’re a perfect match. “I didn’t know she could be so cutthroat.”
“How is Jack?” Julia says his name slowly, like it’s something to savor. I can practically see her raised eyebrows, her prodding expression. She’s always been nosy when it comes to me and men.
Not that this is a “me and men” situation.
“It’s not like that.”
“I can’t believe you willingly partnered up with him. I thought you hated him.”
“I don’thatehim.” I fiddle with a loose thread on the blanket. “But I definitely don’t like him. He’s... ugh. Smug and irritating. Even though he saved my life today.”
“He’s handsome, too.”
Images of his taut, tattoo-covered biceps flash through my mind. “That’s not relevant.”
“No? Not even a little?”
“Don’t,” I warn. “Besides, he hates me. I know that for a fact. He only agreed to this because I begged him in my underwear, and—”
“Wait, what?”
“—he knows that he needs me. He has the personality of a snail. Or a fish. The underwear thing was by accident. Did I not mention that? I put on a shirt.”
“What are you going to do once you’re at the restaurant every day?” I can hear the amusement in her voice. “You’ll have access to knives, you know.”
I think about my supposed cooking lessons and shudder. In the past, whenever I’ve tried to cook, it hasn’t gone well. One time I forgot to put water in the pot when making pasta. Another time, I melted a plastic spatula in the oven (accidentally, but still). Julia, to no one’s surprise, can manage a three-course meal with ease. Like a proper Winfield.
It’s not that I’mopposedto the idea of learning more about theback of house. I haven’t sorted out all the details yet, but behind-the-scenes updates as the restaurant progresses will definitely help with the interest level. It’s just that I can’t imagine Jack being a very patient teacher. Or that I somehow have untapped talent when it comes to the kitchen.
Hopefully the basics will be sufficient.
“I don’t know how to throw a knife or anything.”
“No, but he might.”
