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When I get to work the first Monday of the new year, the first thing I see is Fiona’s face. She’s standing behind the counter at Four Cups, and she looks stricken.
There’s a piece of paper in her hands.
When she lifts her gaze to meet mine, her brows draw together.
“What?” I frown. “What is it?”
She clears her throat, staring at the paper again. “Fallon just put in his notice. His last day is in two weeks.”
“His—” I stop, frowning. My heart thumps. “Fallon quit?”
Fiona lets out a long sigh. “He said he had another talented chef lined up to take his place. A young guy who worked with him before who’s not happy at his current job. He said he could stay on for an extra week to show him the ropes if we needed him.”
I don’t give a shit about the new chef, but I don’t say that. I just feel my throat constrict as I glance toward the kitchen. “Fallon quit his job?” I repeat.
“Oh, Jen, I’m so sorry.” Fiona puts the paper down and comes around the counter, and I endure a hug from her for a few moments before pulling away.
“I should get to work,” I say. “Amanda will be here soon. She has the proof copy of my book to show me.”
I’d hoped to show Fallon the fruits of all my hard work. I wanted his feedback. I wanted him to be happy for me.
But when I walk into the kitchen and see his broad back standing at the prep station, all I feel is dread.
“You’re quitting?” I say, my voice coming out strangely.
Fallon pauses as he chops chives, putting his knife down on the board. He turns slowly, his dark, dark eyes lifting inch by inch to meet mine. He gives me a slow nod. “It’s time for me to move on.”
“But…” I trail off. “But, why? I thought you loved it here.”
“I did,” he answers quietly, and I don’t miss the fact that he used the past tense. He lets out a long sigh. “There’s nothing for me here, Jen. I’m stagnant. My life is in a holding pattern, and I need to move on.”
There’s a sharp, pulsing pain in my chest.
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my mind, I thought he’d always be here. I thought I could push him away, but I’d still get to see him. I thought, maybe, in time, we could pick up where we left off.
I’m so, so stupid.
“Hello-oo!” a singsong voice calls out. Amanda steps into the kitchen, brandishing a bag. “I’ve got a late Christmas present for you.” Her smile fades when she sees my face. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Her eyes flick to the other side of the kitchen, and her face does that softening gaga thing it does whenever Fallon’s around. “Hey, Fallon.”
“Amanda.” He nods, then turns back to his prep work.
Amanda slides up to me and reaches into the bag. She pulls out a gorgeous, glossy book featuring a perfect, beautiful picture of my salted caramel brownies. My name is right there on the front. Jennifer Newbank.
“You don’t look happy.”
I glance up to see Amanda frowning at me, so I try to force my lips to curl up. “I am,” I lie. I flip the book open as I set it down on the counter, running my fingers over all my best recipes, finally in print. “I can’t believe it’s done.”
Amanda puts a hand on my forearm, and I look up to see a soft, kind smile on her face. “You worked hard, Jen. You deserve it. It’s normal to be overwhelmed.”
I nod, throat tight. “Yeah. I’ll have a look through this tonight and let you know if I see anything that needs to be changed.”
“There’s already buzz around this book, Jen. It’s going to be huge.” She puts her hands out. “Huge.”
That does put a real smile on my face. I nod, run my hands over the book I poured my heart and soul into, and try to ignore the fact that soon, everything will change.
Fallon appears on my other side, his arm brushing mine as he reaches to flip the book over to look at the front. His fingers slide over my name, and I finally gather the courage to look at him. His eyes are impossible to read. Guarded.
“Congrats, Jen,” he says in that deep, rumbly voice. “I’m happy for you.”
