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I cringed at the tomato cubes and bushels of herbs still sitting on the chopping board. My mind had been wandering all night, and it wasn’t conducive to my cooking skills.
“I was getting to that.”
He harrumphed and turned back to the fish he’d been preparing before checking on me. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
I hacked at the basil, avoiding Vlad’s scrutinizing gaze. “There’s no guy.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Amara put in.
I pointed my knife at them. “Stay out of my love life. Both of you.”
Amara narrowed her eyes at me. “You'd have to have a love life for us to stay out of it.”
“She doesn’t need a man,” Vlad was quick to jump in. “Besides, she has us if she needs company.”
Amara glared at Vlad. “That’s not the kind of company she needs.”
I tuned out their bickering once they started yelling at each other in Italian and Russian, knowing full well the other didn’t speak their language.
“Quinn.” Stacia, one of the waitresses, poked her head through the door leading into the kitchen. “There’s someone here asking for you.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.” I nudged Vlad with my elbow. “Can you take over?”
He stopped yelling and smiled at me. “Of course,lapochka.”
Since I wanted to know what people were calling me—or yelling at me—I’d been looking up Russian words. And it turned out my moody sous-chef was as sweet as pie underneath the rough exterior. When he wasn’t calling me pet names reserved for friends and family, he was as supportive as only a true friend could be.
Vlad had been with me since I opened the restaurant. He was the first to apply for the job as sous-chef, and I hired him on the spot. He’d fit right in from the start, becoming an honorary member of my family. Mom called him almost every week to chat.
And while it might be weird to have a Russian sous-chef in an Italian restaurant, he was one of the best chefs I’d ever met. And his Italian food rivaled Amara’s and my mom’s. And they’d been born with a chopping board in their hands.
After taking off my apron and throwing it back on top of my desk, I went out into the hallway between the main part of the restaurant and the kitchen. A squeal that was not fit for a professional restaurant owner left me when I saw who was there to see me.
“Freya, what are you doing here?” I hugged my best friend, pushing down the tears that threatened to escape. I’d only seen her a handful of times since the opening five months ago, and I’d missed spending time with her.
She squeezed me back, only releasing me when one of the servers bumped into us on their way to the kitchen. “Surprise.” Still holding my hand, she walked into the bustling restaurant, dragging me behind her. “It’s been way too long since I last saw you.”
We took a seat at the small bar at the back. “That’s true. But you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” Talking on the phone with her nearly every day had helped keep me sane. Especially when her brother’s visits made me question my mental state.
Freya bounced in her seat. “Can you get out of here early? Or should I get ready for a night of pizza and reading?”
My heart felt full seeing my friend, and for the first time in months, I was content. “Give me twenty minutes to wrap things up. Vlad doesn’t want me in the kitchen anyway, so he’ll be elated to hear I’m leaving.”
Freya chuckled. “I don’t know what’s stranger about that sentence, the fact that you have a Russian sous-chef or that he can order you out of your own kitchen.”
I slid off the chair. “You know how good his food is. I don’t argue with him, and in turn he continues to create the most amazing dishes so people come back and I can pay my rent.”
“Speaking of food. I haven’t had dinner yet. Think you can grab something for us?”
Grinning, I nodded. “Of course. Be right back.”
My steps were lighter going back into the kitchen, and I couldn’t stop smiling. Amara and Vlad stopped what they were doing as soon as they noticed me.
Amara pointed a finger my way. “What’s that on your face?”
My hands went to my cheeks and mouth, hoping I didn’t have food stuck to it. “What is it? Don’t tell me I went outside with sauce stuck somewhere.”
Vlad set down his knife. “You’re smiling. Why are you smiling? Who’s out there?”
