Page 97 of Tastes Like Summer

“Ask how he’s doing. How she’s doing. Both of them.”

I attempt to swallow the sudden knot in my throat but struggle. “How are they?”

Jonathan smiles, those gorgeous blue eyes showing me kindness I feel I don’t deserve. “Rachel’s okay. I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago, and he mentioned she was doing some sort of winter play.”

I nod, my heart twisting in my chest. “And Michael?”

His smile drops, brows pulled together in sadness. “He’s… He’s hanging in there. The restaurant is doing well. Getting rave reviews.”

“Yeah, I’ve been keeping up.” I set up a Google alert for it, actually.

“Of course you have,” he says with a smile. “But it’s been rough on him, you being gone. He doesn’t say much because he knows you and I have been working together, but I’ve known him for a while. He still misses you.”

“I miss him,” I whisper. “A lot.”

“So why aren’t you together, again? I know long-distance can be tough, but⁠—”

“It wasn’t just that.” I shake my head. “I mean, it was. But it was more so that there would’ve been no end to it unless he dropped everything and came to me. And he just opened H&H.”

“What about you? I know the girls are in school and everything, but… the way you two looked at each other was something else. You wouldn’t move for him?”

“It’s complicated. My ex—he threatened me. Told me he wouldn’t give me permission to move the girls out of state. Which is so stupid, because he just—” I cut myself off with a gasp. “Holy shit.” I push from my chair in shock, pulling the attention of everyone from our table to me.

“Diana? Are you okay?” Edgar asks.

I flush, a bit embarrassed by my outburst, but the gravity of my realization keeps me from caring about it for too long. “He gave up his parental rights, Edgar. He gave them up.” I stare wide-eyed at my boss and realize exactly what he was trying to tell me when he said I was free. “I can do whatever I want.”

Edgar smiles across the table at me. “I told you.”

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asks.

“I—oh my god, I’m so sorry for the dramatics, but I have to go.” I start to leave, before rushing back to the table, addressing my boss. “Do you mind if I take a couple of days off?”

He laughs. “Go do what you need to do.”

I could hug him right now. So I do. “Thank you so much.”

And without another thought, I grab my coat and take a cab all the way to Penn Station. I have a train to catch.

I’ve never been a fan of winter—but it isn’t for the obvious reasons. It isn’t because of the weather or the freezing cold temperatures, the dead vegetation or the end of year. It’s mostly to do with the fact that, growing up in Sag Harbor, there would be a massive exodus once the temperature dropped to freezing levels. People with summer homes would stop visiting until the following spring, and tourism would drop substantially, leaving the previously-crowded beaches and towns empty. Almost ghost-like.

Many locals actually prefer it that way, to get their towns back from seasonal tourists. But as a teenager growing up with absent parents, I loved making new friends every summer. I liked getting to know people from different backgrounds. And the absence of the crowds, the end of the temporary relationships I’d form as a kid with transient people, multiplied my loneliness tenfold.

Nowadays, winter in Sag Harbor isn’t as bad as it used to be. Over the last couple of years, many people have moved out here permanently, choosing to set down roots—whether it’s to retire or start their families. Either way, it’s been nice not to feel like you’re living in the middle of a dead town. It’s especially nice when you have a business that depends on people. And while it’s normal for business to go down over the holidays in this, we haven’t found it to be the case with H&H.

Nope. H&H is thriving. Dubbed by one of the most respectable food critics in the country as “the gem of Long Island,” our restaurant has exceeded expectations. Patrons have loved my new elevated take on simple, easy-to-understand ingredients that they see in their own supermarkets every day. They appreciate the lack of sticker shock when they peruse the menu, and are wowed that they’re getting Michelin-level tasting—and looking—meals without the price. So much so that it has become a destination restaurant for people all over the tristate area.

It’s certainly been an incredible thing to witness my vision not just come to life, but to more than exceed expectations.

From the outside, life is going well. Rachel is doing okay in school, enjoying her drama club, and work is fantastic. But on the inside, I’m a fucking mess. I can’t stop thinking about the last time Diana and I spoke, even though it was months ago. Can’t stop thinking about how my words came across. I know they were necessary, but often times, when I revisit the conversation, I wonder whether I was too stern. Too aggressive. Whether I should’ve softened the blow when I asked her never to call me again.

But then I think back to the mindset I was in at the time, and realize it could’ve gone so much worse. Because I could barely get out of bed back then. The only reason I did was because I had a front to keep up for my daughter, and thank god for her, since I haven’t been able to escape this heartbreak.

I see Diana in everything and everyone, every inch of this town a memorial to the shortest and most meaningful relationship I’ve ever had, and it’s killing me slowly.

“Table six’s roasted chicken is ready.” Lexi breaks through my musings, passing over the chicken for final plating.

I come back to reality and get to work, carefully slicing the herb-roasted bird on a bias before fanning the pieces on the plate. I accompany the protein with a colorful trio of roasted beets, parsnips, and carrots, sitting atop a thin layer of buttery mashed potatoes. The ultimate comfort food meal for the winter, plated like a work of art. I prepare a second chicken dish, and ring the bell for pick-up. “Order’s up for table 6!”