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The clock said 12:02 A.M.
Another woman was getting my husband out of the shower.
I hung up the phone.
I started pacing the kitchen, trying not to shake. Taking deep breaths. Thinking of the baby. Stay calm for the baby. Which was when I saw her through the window, eating the flourless cake and laughing. It was Z’s thick pudding of a cake, all sugar and vibrant sea salt—one of the only smells in the kitchen I could handle. And now she had ruined that as well.
Amber.
She was wearing a sexy black dress, a thick gold necklace. Her boyfriend was with her and three other people, at the one table Z reserved for big parties.
Amber was performing, talking loudly as she took another bite, probably analyzing the cake for the group. The textures of the sweet custard, the genius of the sea salt finish. As if she were an expert on such things. She was the expert as far as everyone she was dining with was concerned. Soon she’d be the expert as far as America was concerned too.
I didn’t know what I was doing until I was doing it. I moved all of the rejected peaches onto one plate.
Then I swung through the kitchen door, peaches in hand, and walked into the dining room.
A few of the guests at the chef’s counter looked up, taking in my apron, my sweaty bun.
I nodded in their direction.
Confused, they nodded back.
I walked right past them, right to table 5. Amber’s boyfriend now had his arm around her, and he was gently nuzzling into her neck. She was seductively eating the last bite of the flourless treat—licking the plate clean.
Amber looked up, eyes wide, as she recognized me there in my kitchen garb, in serious need of a shower.
“Oh, my God!” she said as she looked me up and down. “What are you doing here?”
“Saying hello,” I said.
Then I smiled and dropped the peaches in her lap.
34
I woke up the next morning to Sammy standing over the couch, which was a good thing, probably, as the last thing I wanted was to review the night before. Maggie’s voice on Danny’s phone. The irritating sight of Amber Rucci. The end of my illustrious career at 28. I had stormed out following my plate-dumping, not waiting to officially be fired. I turned off my phone, knowing Danny wouldn’t call back. I didn’t understand how things were still going so awry. How had that happened? I was supposed to be on my way to redemption by now, and I was nowhere. Jobless. Husbandless. With the lovely and charming Amber Rucci poised to take over the world.
Sammy shuffled from foot to foot, a little nervous. She had a new novel in her sweet little hands.
“I don’t want to go to camp,” she said.
“Why?” I said.
“I don’t want to discuss it,” she said.
“What do you want to do instead?
“Reading day?” she asked.
“You know what? Why not?”
She smiled, large. “Great!” she said.
Then she proceeded to move my feet out of the way, plop down on the couch, and crack open her book.
I watched her turn the pages, a nausea in my throat kicking up. It was a combination of what I assumed was morning sickness and the realization that a small person—not unlike Sammy—would belong to me soon.
“Why are you staring at me?” she said, eyes still on her book.
