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“Jake can do whatever the hell he wants, ReeAnn. It’s his bar,” I said. ReeAnn flashed a little smile.
“I’m … I don’t know what to say,” Emily said. “I want to dick punch that guy at least.” Another smile.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’d like to say I didn’t see people do stupid shit like that in the restaurant, but I’d be lying.” Jake and ReeAnn had faced fears, and now they were together, happy. I hated the idea of anything taking the shine off that.
ReeAnn sighed and seemed to will herself back to her usual calm. “Enough of that. What are we drinking to tonight?”
“Jo misses Lucas.”
“Girl, get in here.” ReeAnn gave me a hug, a good one because tears were suddenly leaking down my face. “Oh, honey. It’s going to be okay. I feel it,” ReeAnn said.
“It’s only been a couple of weeks. A few texts and phone calls. It’s not enough. He already sounds different when we talk, and he works so much. Now he’s in Amsterdam, and we agreed to not call due to the time difference and his workload. I think we’re kidding ourselves that we could be more than a temporary fling, and we’re both too chicken shit to break it off.”
“You can’t give up, Jo. He loves you. I know it,” Emily said. “This is new to him, and he’s used to being the one who knows everything, the go-to, the resource. He’s out of his depth with you. Give him time.” I wasn’t sure how much more time I could afford.
Summer was around the corner, and I only had two regular chef gigs, the farm meals twice a month, and a few shifts at The Elliot. Since Kalie finished her certificate, she made the desserts during her shift on the line. I was still the pastry chef and created the specialty items. But overall, I had less work, fewer hours, and less pay. I’d been so wrapped up in Lucas, cooking for him and loving him, that I hadn’t done enough work to get new clients, and now it looked like it was too late.
I was expecting a royalty check from the cookbook publisher, but I didn’t know how much or when it would come. Reef had conveniently kept me out of the loop there. I couldn’t rely on that.
For years, I was so proud of myself for standing on my own. I had a small amount invested for retirement, but my everyday funds were getting low, and I worried I’d have to dip into that meager reserve. I’d promised my dad a long time ago I wouldn’t do that. I’d go back to Nashville and start over before I did that. There was pride, and there was stupidity.
The days ticked by. I’d been on this island for six months and was back to scraping by, dragging myself from one task to the next and missing Lucas. I couldn’t keep doing this.
No money. No motivation to find new clients. My dreams of financial success and standing on my own were gasping their dying breaths, and my broken heart barely cared. I completely failed myself and my career goals. Because of a man. What a cliché. Fuck.
I. Don’t. Get. The. Prince.
Hewas such agreat prince. Sometimes I thought back to those first few weeks and how wrong I’d been about him. What we had was a fairytale, and I didn’t want to let go. But someone had to, and Southern women were made of steel. So, I would do it.
Let go or be dragged. I read it on a magnet once. If I ever hoped to regain some control in my life, I had to let it all go and start over. One more time.
My phone pinged with a text, and my traitor heart skipped. I knew it wasn’t Lucas because he was still in Amsterdam, and I was relieved. Now that I knew what I had to do, I didn’t want to talk or text yet. What would I say? I checked the notification.
Jamie:Hey Sammy Jo. How the heck are ya? Been too long. Your mom said you may come back to Nash-Patch soon and boy do I have a job for you. Rock band front man lives in Nashville with family. I know their nanny. They’re looking for a personal chef for at least the rest of the summer, maybe longer. Interested? The $$ is big time.
My friend Jamie, the only person from high school I still talked to, was a nanny for the rich and famous in Nashville. It was pretty common. A lot of musicians lived there. Ubiquitous cutting-edge recording studios and a culture of letting famous people be normal people attracted musicians from all genres. It was one of the many things that made Nashville, Nashville.
I hadn’t talked to Jamie in a while, and her text surprised me. Did I want the job? Fuck no. Did I need the job? Fuck, yes. I loved the West Coast, the people, the green, the ocean, even the rain, but for ten years, it hadn’t really loved me back.
My heart sank. And I’d have to stop saying fuck so much if I moved back home, which at this point seemed inevitable. Well, shit.
41
LUCAS
The plane toucheddown at SeaTac as the fading sunlight bathed the glaciers atop Mount Rainier in a pinkish-orange glow. I loved it here. It was home, and soon I’d be back in Perry Harbor with Jo. I missed her in my bones.
I tried to go back to my old life, throwing everything into my work and the sense of purpose I felt doing it. I tried not to think of her at night in my bed. I tried to deny I wanted to text her, to know about every little thing in her day. I told myself we could do long-distance, talking every few days and meeting for a sexy weekend or two a month. Being apart from her like this wasn’t going to work. Not for a job, not for any reason.
I think I knew the first time I stepped into my apartment. Images of her in every room played over and over in my mind. We’d only spent forty-eight hours there, and the place was engraved with her shape. Without her, it felt cold.
The job was exactly what I asked for, and I hated it. I told my boss I was having trouble getting back into the swing and hoped the challenge of the Europe trip would turn things around. It didn’t, so I was done.
It wasn’t only because it took me away from Jo, though that was a Mount Rainer-sized downside. It was because there weren’tanyupsides. I no longer thrived on the money, the game, or the drama. My job making multi-million-dollar deals for billionaires was fucking boring. Different players, same game. No, thank you. There were other ways I could do meaningful work.
When the Cole shitstorm crapped on my career and, deep down, my confidence, all I wanted was to get back to my old life, be that guy again. The one who made the impossible deals and made it look easy. I thought I’d be relieved to go back to that world where I had that Midas Touch, where I was important and doing important things.
I was wrong. And I wasn’t used to being so spectacularly wrong.
