Page 97 of Neap & Spring

My mind goes blank for a moment too long. “Just, uh, cream cheese, cheddar, garlic, some herbs. Crab.”

“It’s perfect.” Patrick reaches for more himself. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

There is no recipe. There’s just me, standing in the cottage kitchen, hands shaking, trying to remember the exact way Callum would eyeball the measurements, trying to pretend I still have the same casual confidence that he has with food. Just me and my demons trying to recreate something from memory without having a panic attack. Just me trying to prove to myself that I could still do this one small thing.

“It’s actually Callum’s recipe.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel, thank goodness. “He used to make it all the time at school. He’d whip it up between practicals when we were starving and too tired to think straight.”

Patrick’s eyebrows go up slightly, and he looks at Callum with renewed interest.

“Well, it’s excellent,” Patrick announces warmly. “Both of you should be proud.”

Under the table, Callum’s hand finds my knee.

His palm covers my kneecap through my leggings. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t even acknowledge what he’s doing. He just continues responding to something Wesley said about boats and the best fishing spots. But his thumb moves in a small circle against my leggings. Around and around, a tiny movement that grounds me completely and sends sparks of desire up my body.

Two weeks ago, he did the same thing under the table at the investor meeting. Except his fingers had found the seam of my skirt instead, slipping just beneath it, while he sat there discussing revenue projections with a completely straight face. I had contributed exactly nothing to the second half of that meeting.

I have to remind myself to breathe now. I focus on my pasta, twirling it carefully on my fork, trying to look normal and ignore the way my entire leg is on fire from his touch.

“So Vivienne,” Beckett says, pulling my attention away from Callum’s hand and the heat spreading through my entire body. “Le Cordon Bleu.”

Oh God. Here we go.

My fork pauses halfway to my mouth.

“I would love to visit Paris.” Iris sighs, her voice wistful. “That must have been incredible.”

“It was intense,” I respond, setting my fork down slowly, buying time. “But yeah. Incredible.”

The word feels inadequate. Paris was brutal and beautiful and transformative and soul-crushing all at once. It was the best and worst experience of my life. It was where I became a chef and where I met Callum and where I learned what I was actually capable of.

“Why’d you stop cooking?” Beckett asks, and the whole table goes quiet.

The question hangs in the air in the silence.

I can feel Callum tense next to me, his hand going still on my knee. “Beckett —” his voice holds a warning.

A very clear warning.

“It’s fine,” I interrupt quickly, even though my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. My hands want to shake and my chest wants to squeeze and every instinct is screaming at me to run. “I just, um, I realized the restaurant industry wasn’t for me and consulting made more sense long term.”

It’s the answer I’ve given a hundred times. A thousand times. I’ve given it to my parents, to old classmates, and to people at networking events who recognize my name from culinary school and the restaurants I’ve worked at. It’s polished and rehearsed and completely hollow. It tastes like mold in my mouth.

Beckett’s eyes narrow slightly, a question forming on his lips.

But Iris elbows him hard in the side.

“What?” he protests, rubbing his ribs.

“You’re being nosy,” she laughs, her voice is cheerful, but her eyes are glaring at him.

“I’m being interested!”

“You’re being nosy,” Hayes agrees from across the table, pointing his fork at Beckett for emphasis.

“I’m literally just trying to get to know the girl our brother is obsessed with.”

“Let the woman eat her dinner,” Patrick cuts in mildly, but there’s steel underneath. He holds the parental authority that doesn’t need volume to be effective. “Wes, tell Vivienne about Callum’s fishing disaster from a few weeks ago.”