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As I approached her, the first thing I noticed was her smile. It stretched so far and wide. Full lips and a genuine softness to her. When her green eyes locked with mine, I knew right then that woman was going to change me. I remembered everything about that night. She ordered the Hawaiian glazed salmon, a Caesar salad, and a side of French fries. She drank a Cosmopolitan as she wore her tight, white bandage dress with a slim gold belt and chunky gold earrings. Her nails were painted dusty blue, and she tapped them repeatedly against the tablecloth.
“You’re the chef?” Catie asked.
“I am.”
She leaned in toward me and shook her head. “I have a complaint to make to you.”
I arched an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest. “That will be a first.”
“Yes, well, I worry everyone else is too nice to speak up about issues, but I’m not, so here goes.” She sat back in her chair and tossed her hands up in defeat. “You’ve just cooked me the most perfect salmon in the world, and I fear there’s no coming back from that. Which is a problem.”
“How is that a problem?”
“Because now, whenever I try salmon anywhere else, I’ll be forced to compare it to yours.”
A small smile slipped from me. I didn’t give those away easily. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I don’t feel bad for ruining all salmon for you. I suppose you’ll have to keep coming back in order to have your favorite.”
“I guess I’ll see you next Friday.”
And she did.
Every Friday after, she showed up. Sometimes alone at the bar, other times with friends, and it became a tradition between us. Each week, I’d ask her if she’d found better salmon. Each week, she’d tell me she’d failed the quest.
Then she left me her number. Then I called her. I’d been calling her ever since.
The timer on the oven went off, pulling me from my flashbacks as I stared at the box on the nightstand. I snatched it up and slid it into the inside pocket of my blazer. Hurrying into the kitchen, I grabbed oven mitts and pulled out the salmon dish.
It was perfect, of course. I held a record for never burning a meal.
I quickly fried up some fries, mixed up the salad, and set the dining room table with candles and flowers. I poured two glasses of white wine and checked my watch before I dimmed the lighting.
The table was set with the same meal from the night I met her, and the whirl of anxiety I felt as I waited for her to enter the house was unnerving. I kept checking my phone for the time and to see if she responded to my messages, which had been left on read. Before I could shoot off another one, the front door key began to jingle, and right as Catie walked in, she was in my viewpoint.
I got down on one knee and held open the box.
She gasped. “What’s going on, Alex?”
I smiled a bit as I held the ring out toward her. “Asking you for forever.”
Tears poured out of her eyes as her body began to tremble. At first, I thought it was from excitement, but then her sobs became more intense and painful, even.
“Get up, Alex,” she whispered, shaking her head.
I laughed slightly. “I think you’re supposed to answer first.”
She hurried over to me and grabbed my arm. “No, get up. Get up. You can’t do this.”
“Am I missing something? What’s going—”
“I’m in love with Henry,” she blurted out, covering her mouth with her hands. The tears raced down her face as if she was the one with a broken heart. As if her heart was being shattered.
“Henry who?” I choked out.
She choked on her tears and shook her head. “Henry. Your Henry.”
“My Henry?” I echoed again, confused by her words because there was no way… There was no way she was in love with the man who stabbed me in the fucking back years ago. She was in love with the man who tried to ruin my career?
“I was coming tonight to tell you that I was moving out, Alex… I’m leaving.”
My heart didn’t shatter, no. It froze.
She kept talking, her words feeling empty as they trickled through my ears. Then she packed up her things as I remained in the apartment foyer, completely still. She moved past me and left me alone to remove any ounce of light that was still left within me.
CHAPTER 24
Yara
Present Day
“Henry trained me when I came back to the United States with my aunt. I was a stupid kid, straight out of culinary school, and somehow, I landed a job at his restaurant. I studied under him for years. For a long time, I looked up to him as a father figure after mine walked out on me,” Alex explained as we walked home from running into Catie. “Sure, Henry was arrogant and a know-it-all, but he was damn good at his craft. He had enough accolades to warrant his cocky persona. It was no secret that he was a womanizer, and lived a wild life, but I never thought he’d turn on me. He always treated me well, until he didn’t.”
