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“LB, the dude lived with you for many years. He didn’t have to. He could have gotten another roommate. And I knew you in college, you were hard to live with. He’s yourfriend. You need friends.”
He did need friends. It was great having Nafil come in for the wedding events, but that wasn’t enough—Nafil would be back to the city and then on a ship soon. He missed his Manhattan kitchen crew and the other contestants onAustralia’s Next Star Chef. They’d all formed a bond during filming; then he’d left to the other side of the world.
“Elijah and Jason invited me for dinner,” he pointed out.
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to go?”
“Yes! Why does everyone think I’m not going to go? I promised the twins I would let them beat me at Uno.”
He knew if they were ever going to work as a couple again, they both needed to have their own lives. They couldn’t survive being as tangled up in each other as they’d always been. Hannah had a career, a big group of friends, a fulfilling life.
He’d come home committed to either leaving with Hannah or staying at Carrigan’s with her, and it was obvious she wasn’t leaving, so he needed to get serious about planting roots.
That meant building his own support system here, aside from his parents and Miri. Returning his friends’ texts, instead of just thinking about it. Part of his unwillingness to come home had been a deep fear that he would lose the person he’d managed to become out there in the world. He hoped connecting to his chef buddies would help him remember he was an entity separate from the weird kid who grew up at the inn. From the kid who wasn’t quite good enough. He was going to go see Laurence and have dinner with the Greens.
He might even try to hang out with his sister.
Laurence was a dynamic, incredible chef, and Levi was itching to taste what he was cooking these days. When Levi called, Laurence immediately invited him for dinner and Levi headed out like a shot (“My mom’s coming over, too, so keep your fucking potty mouth under wraps,” he was warned). The St. Regis land was a short, beautiful drive from Carrigan’s.
“I brought cookies,” he said as way of greeting as a small child opened the door.
She yelled behind her, “Uncle Lo, there’s a dude here who looks like he escaped from a TikTok!” Then she turned back to him and neatly lifted the box of cookies out of his hands. “I’ll take those.”
“Those are for your grandmother,” Laurence said, coming up behind the child and taking the cookies. He eyed Levi.
“That seems like an unnecessary amount of scarf, my man.”
Levi shrugged and was pulled into a hug. “If you hadn’t called me soon, I was going to drive down to that farm of yours and demand satisfaction. What the hell, bro? You’ve been home for almost two months!” Laurence scolded but also ushered him into the kitchen, where an older woman sat drinking a cup of coffee.
“This is my mom,” Laurence said, handing her the cookies. “This is my asshole friend Levi, who has not yet invited us to stay in the Victorian mansion he owns.”
“I brought cookies,” Levi repeated. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Are they Rosenstein’s?” Laurence asked, and Levi nodded.
“New recipe. They sent them over to us for a trial. They’re decent. I figured you’d get a kick out of eating something no one else had ever tried.”
He’d finally found his voice. He hadn’t expected to be choked up with emotion from seeing an old friend. He’d always been obsessed with food, but the surprise for him about becoming a chef was the camaraderie. Everyone knew everyone in the food world; there was no hiding in a corner being a disconnected grouch. Everyone talked shit about everyone, everyone gave everyone a leg up, everyone drank until the sun came up with everyone. Levi would have thought he’d hate it, but he’d craved it like breathing.
He didn’t realize he’d been terrified that he wouldn’t be able to have that up here until he’d walked in this door.
“Sit down,” Laurence said. “Peel some potatoes.” Levi obeyed, catching the peeler Laurence tossed at him. “Tell me what’s new.”
“Well,” Levi said, “I’m married, to begin with.” Laurence threw a towel at him, and Levi laughed. “Do you really want to hear all this bullshit?”
“Hell yes, bro,” Laurence told him. “I’m gonna hand you a beer and proceed to dump five years of bullshit on your ears as soon as we’re done eating. It’s called reciprocal friendship. Also, don’t curse in front of my mother.”
“Fuck you,” Laurence’s tiny beautiful mother countered.
“Hannah says you should come over, for literally any occasion, or all of them,” he told Laurence.
Laurence’s eyes got as big as dinner plates. “You married Hannah? Start talking right now.”
He settled in and told Laurence about Hannah (date dare and all), and Laurence told him a long, complicated story about a girl. He tried to provide thoughtful feedback, and Laurence laughed at him for thinking he knew anything about love. They ate one of the top five best meals Levi had ever had, and Laurence’s mom apologized that it wasn’t very good. Laurence’s niece showed them the dance choreography she was learning for school.
All his life at Carrigan’s, he’d felt undeserving of real friendship—or incapable of attracting it—and being back had sucked him into those old worn thought patterns. Having this friendship, here, healed a part of that little boy’s hurt. He looked at Laurence and silently promised both his adult and child selves that he wouldn’t isolate himself from his friends again, no matter how lost in his head he got.
Chapter 16
