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Eventually, enough was enough. I knew what I was going to do. How could I not? He’d just gone on national television and said he wanted me to come back. I’d told him to leave me alone, and he’d done that, but he’d named his restaurant after me. And he’d essentially asked me to come back to him.
I grabbed my phone. First, I tried to use the reservation app and found that it was filled. There was no way to get a table at his place. Not surprising. Everyone wanted to eat Max’s food. With shaking hands, I called the number on the website. Maybe there was a waitlist I could get onto.
The woman who answered said, “Hello, it’s a great day at Hope. How can I help you?”
She was perky, and it was strange to hear her say my name, even though she wasn’t, not really. I’d gotten used to hearing people sayI hope,orhopefulover the years. This was different.
“Hi.” I cleared my throat. “My name is Am—Hope Radford, and I was… That is…can I please get on your waitlist for a table?”
The woman gasped. “Did you say your name is Hope Radford?”
Yes, and it was the first time I’d said my own name in over a year. Maybe the last time had been introducing myself at Max’s family home? “Yes, that’s right.”
“Oh, Ms. Radford. Hello. Yes. Um. We have a table for you. Every night. It’s always open for you. Chef keeps it there for you. Wow. Okay. Do you want to come right now?”
I would have. Right then, if I hadn’t been across the country. “I…I’m afraid I’m not in town. I need to come to Portland. I can’t do that before, um, Monday.” It looked like I was getting a flight the next day and missing work and school.Fine. That is fine.
“Great. Monday it is. What time?”
“What time?” I had to be better at this. This woman must think I was nuts. But he saved me a table every night? “How about seven?”
“Great. See you then. Oh, can I get your phone number, so I can confirm your reservation?”
“No, you can’t.” I hung up. If I changed my mind, or chickened out, I couldn’t let Max have that. I’d barely survived him the first time around. Was I really going to do this again?
I was, and I did. As I landed in Portland, I was still stunned that I was doing it. I almost turned around in the airport and flew back home. I stopped myself. I’d come this far. Worst case scenario, seeing Max would be awful and it would help me get over this lunacy. Best case…What is the best case?
I didn’t dare to hope for anything.
It took me way too long to get dressed. I’d brought five outfits, and I almost went shopping to buy five more. The truth was that I looked totally different than the last time he’d seen me. He might very well not be attracted to me anymore, and that was a scenario too.
A bad one.
My hotel was down the street from his restaurant, so I walked on leaden feet toward him. Someone held the door open, and I stepped inside. Immediately, the smell was familiar. Someone was cooking the barbecue sauce he’d made for me. I caught my breath and stared at my feet. I could still leave.Go right now.
“Can I help you?” The chipper voice from the phone addressed me.
“Hi.” I looked up. “I’m Hope Radford.”
“Oh.” She brightened up. She must be eighteen years old. Cute. Perky. I hoped she got to stay this way. “I’m so excited you’re here. I’ll take your coat.” She did, and then I followed her to a table at the back of the restaurant.
Away from the other tables.
Perky hostess scurried away to be replaced by a nervous waiter. His eyes darted left and right before he spoke to me. “Hi. Welcome to Hope. What can I get you to drink?”
“I… Hello. Thanks. I need a glass of wine. Something red. I don’t care what.” That was a change too. I drank in public lately. It was one of the first brave things I’d started doing in Seattle. I didn’t drink much, but I did have wine at restaurants.
“Be right back with your menu.” He scurried off, and I stared at my hands. I’d never eaten alone in a restaurant before. Other than Max’s kitchen, and that had hardly been alone.
Like I could sense he was suddenly there, Max’s presence moved over me. I lifted my head. He came out of the kitchen andwalked over to the bar. He didn’t look at me, not once. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of wine, grabbed two glasses, ignored the bartender, and with a quick turn, strode toward my table.
For a second, my heart forgot to beat.
Then it raced to catch up and wouldn’t stop. He met my gaze and tilted his head to the side as he took me in, his eyes widening, registering the shock of my new appearance. Yes, it was really fucking different. Did he hate it? Damnit. I shouldn’t care, but I did.
He walked over and stopped, setting down the bottle in front of me and then the glasses. “Hope.” His voice was low, barely a whisper. “I… That was so brilliant, changing your hair.”
Max sank rather than sat in the chair right next to me. Not across. I could immediately smell his warm, sandalwood soap scent. It was heady and didn’t help my racing heart. I touched my hair because he’d mentioned it. “Thanks. It seemed…the thing to do. I saw you on television.”
