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At some point, my dad disappears. I assume he was sent on an errand for dinner. That’s usually the case. Someone always forgets something—wine, cheese, bread, olives—but when he returns an hour later, he’s laden with two huge shopping bags from Champion Sports filled to the brim with merchandise.
“What in the world? What is all that?”
I look to Gio, but he’s not the least bit surprised by our dad’s purchases.
“You get me a jersey like I asked?” Gio asks him.
“Yeah, but they only had extra-large.”
“That won’t fit!” Gio exclaims.
“Well what the hell was I gonna do? Snap my fingers and make an XXL appear?”
Gio grumbles to himself as my little cousin Tatiana runs up and asks if my dad got her a baseball.
“I did, but listen, you’re gonna have to share it with your little brother ’cause we already have too much stuff, okay?”
He drops the bags at my feet, and even though everything’s crammed in haphazardly, I can still see one of the jerseys. Only part of the last name is showing, but it’s enough.
—LLEN.
“Oh hell.”
My dad holds up his hands. “Now listen, Chloe—”
“He’s my boss! I can’t ask him to sign all this stuff!”
I start digging around in the bag. There are enough shirts and jerseys and baseballs for my entire family! There are even a few gloves, a bat, a tiny Luke Allen bobblehead. Jesus.
“So you tell him it’s for your grandma. There’s a t-shirt in there for Nonna. Don’t you think your Nonna deserves a nice t-shirt signed by the great Luke Allen?”
“He doesn’t even play baseball anymore!” is my lame excuse to get him off my back.
My dad unfurls a knowing smile like he’s got some great plan in the works and it’s only now starting to come to fruition.
“Oh he’ll be back. Absolutely. Just read this week that he got a new agent after his last one quit the business.”
“He did?!”
This is news to me.
“Yeah, now he’s being represented by Rory McNealson. Best in the biz, if you ask me. He’s in good hands.” He crouches down to pat the side of one of the bags. “So all I need from you is to get a few things signed for your family. That’s all. A baseball, a t-shirt. Give your old dad something to live for.”
“Surely your children are worth living for.”
“Eh…”
“DAD.”
It feels weird to be forced out of the kitchen. Even though my mom and Nonna enjoy cooking, I still usually help prepare meals. Since starting to work for Luke, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have something proving, baking, or cooling on the kitchen counter, ready to be enjoyed. I feel like a ship without a rudder.
Monday is nice. I relax and stay in with Nonna. We watch her Italian soap operas and then take a walk around the neighborhood, but by the evening, I’m restless. I’ve had to hustle and grind nonstop since finishing school. I’m still programmed for it, it seems.
On Tuesday, I meet a friend for coffee. Katie was in my graduating class at culinary school. Her dream job has always been to work at Eleven Madison Park, and she’s finally landed there.
“Who cares if I’m the assistant to the assistant’s assistant. I’m in the building.”
“Is it everything you imagined it would be?”
She inhales a deep satisfied sigh as if she still can’t quite believe it herself. “It’s better, somehow. God, just working in the same kitchen as Daniel Humm is enough for me.” She picks up her latte and takes a small sip, testing to see if it’s cooled off enough to drink. “What about you? Have you landed on your feet? I heard you left Fig & Olive.”
I’m not surprised she already knows. The restaurant world in Manhattan is small.
“Yeah, I just needed a change.”
“And Miles?”
“We’re done.”
Her brows shoot up in surprise. “Wow. Really? He seemed obsessed with you. I thought maybe you two would be walking down the aisle soon.”
I shrug off her remark with a smile, and it’s not even forced. There are no hard feelings where Miles is concerned. Working for him and dating him seems like parts of my life that took place years ago. If anything, it just makes me feel sad to think about him and Angie. In a weird way, I hope they managed to work it out after going through all the trouble of keeping their affair a secret. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“So where are you working now? Or are you taking time off?”
“I’m actually doing the private chef thing.”
Her jaw drops. “No way. That’s my nightmare. Dealing with uppity entitled clients barking orders at me, feeling like I’m their personal servant?” She shivers just thinking about it. “Tell me that’s not the case with your setup.”
I look down at my cappuccino, surprised that the mere thought of my situation with Luke makes my cheeks feel hot.
