The assembled group claps and cheers, and we break up to continue the preparations for tonight. Logan goes over the guests who will be coming tonight as I head to the back and get down to work. My stomach is a ball of nerves, and I have to keep reminding myself to breathe. If this fails, it’s all going to come down on Logan, and I can’t bear for that to happen. Luckily, it isn’t long before the restaurant officially opens, and orders are pouring in judging by how many tickets we get. The executive chef becomes flustered at first, most likely because it’s been a while since the kitchen is this busy, but soon we get into a rhythm.
Before I know it, it’s closing time, and we are still slinging orders out the door. I can hear the buzz coming from the dining room as the wait staff hurry in and out, which is a hopeful sign. A noisy room means people, and people means that the buzz that Logan has been building did the trick. Even though I want to go out and ask the diners what they think, it’s far, far too busy. By the time the last dish of cheesecake heads out, I’m beat. My feet ache, I’m sweaty, and there are more than a few wisps of hair escaping from my bun. We’ve been cleaning up during the last fifteen minutes so luckily there isn’t much to do. But a waitress pops her head through the door.
“Logan wants to say a few words,” she calls out.
We all file out, and at one of the tables is a huge stack of pizza and plates.
“Now I generally don’t like to order out, but I figure that our kitchen staff deserves a break,” he says. “I bet you’re all starving.”
Right on cue, someone’s stomach rumbles, and we all laugh. Plates are passed, and so are the boxes of pizza. Once we all settle back down with food, Logan clears his throat.
“I’m going to keep this short and sweet,” he says. “I just want to say thanks again everyone. You’ve all put in 150% today, and it shows.”
He pulls out his phone.
“It’s a bit early, but some of the online food bloggers have already weighed in.” He pauses, and I hold my breath. This is it. Do I even want to know how it went? Even though things seemed good, and nothing was sent back, food critics can be incredibly harsh. “It’s a long review, but the short version of it is: ‘decadent and delicious’... ‘The porterhouse steak is on point and the local produce on the side is vibrant and perfectly cooked.’...’you can feel good about this menu based on a policy of local, sustainable choices’. And that’s not the only review,” Logan adds with a smile.
I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t believe it. It’s going well. It really is. A round of applause breaks out, but Logan holds up a hand.
“Don’t just cheer me,” he says. “Mikayla get up here.”
I look up, surprised, and everyone turns towards me. I give a little nod, but I’m definitely not good with the spotlight.
“Mikayla is the one who believed in my vision and made it happen,” Logan says, looking at me with those warm blue eyes of his. “I couldn’t do it without her.”
And a part of me knows he’s talking about more than just the restaurant, because I couldn’t do without him either. Not anymore.
*****