Late at night, when I couldn't sleep, I'd still think back to how I behaved back then. I could see myself, I could remember the things that I said. The indignity. Shame would creep through my body like I'd been poisoned with it. I wanted to rewrite my own history, so that my righteous indignation burned with the fire of a thousand suns, and I never once told him I couldn't live without him. So that I never told him I could be anything he wanted me to be. So that I never asked him what I had to do, to make him love me again.
Nobody knew. Nobody knew, except him and me.
And long ago, I'd promised myself I would never let it happen again.
Never, ever again would I humiliate myself like that. Not for a man. Not for anyone.
Nobody could have that power over me, especially not the likes of Maxwell Dylan.
Suddenly furious, I shot up out of bed and punched my pillow several times. Heidi started, then lifted her head up and stared at me.
"I'm fine," I grumbled at her confused expression. "Go back to sleep."
She sighed, and laid her head back down.
I was wide awake. It was just like in the months after Eric left, when I'd drag myself through my days, exhausted, and then snap into full alertness as soon as my head hit the pillow. I'd stubbornly refused to take any time off work, even though dark spots swam in front of my eyes most of the time.
The quality of my cooking didn't suffer, as far as I could tell. But when a roll of industrial-sized aluminum foil started to tumble from a high shelf, I did the thing that you never, ever do in the kitchen - I reached out to grab it.
In a professional food setting, you don't catch anything. You just get out of the way. Too many things are scalding hot or fatally sharp, and while the food and equipment are easily replaceable, you might not be. I'd known this since I was a kid, yet somehow, in that moment, I forgot.
The whole thing landed cutting-side-down, right on my hands. Unlike the friendlier household version, this particular roll had a vicious line of jagged teeth, well equipped to slice right through to the bone. Combined with the velocity of the fall, well...
You can imagine.
I still have the scars on my palms, an everlasting monument to my stupidity. My boss at the time sent me a "get well" card, in which he semi-sarcastically thanked me for providing such a valuable lesson to the less-experienced staff members. And it was an important lesson for me, too. Because it's one thing to be told not to do something, and entirely different to actually do it, and look down and see the blood all over your hands because of your mistake.
You'll never, ever let yourself get hurt like that again.
***
Lydia had returned with us to Boston. It was somewhat of a relief to know she was around. In a way, she felt like a buffer between me and Max, even though she wasn't always physically in the restaurant. She handled a lot of the paperwork side of things, which did keep Max around the kitchen more - but I just put my blinders on and pretended he wasn't there.
It got easier and easier, with each passing day.
I'd become so adept at ignoring his presence that he had to clear his throat a few times, after dinner shift, to get my attention.
"Sorry," I said, looking up at him, without really seeing him. "What's up?"#p#分页标题#e#
"It's a bit complicated," he said. "Can you step into the office for a bit?"
I shrugged, hoping this was strictly business-related. Whenever Max started talking about me personally, I couldn't control my reactions. Hard as I tried, the glow that I felt when he paid me a compliment just couldn't be suppressed.
It was fucking annoying.
To my relief, Lydia was already in the office. So it was business. I told myself I wasn't even slightly disappointed by this.
"Well," she exhaled, looking up at me. "First off, I want to say that you absolutely shouldn't feel obligated to say 'yes' to this. Okay? Your first knee-jerk instinct is going to be either 'hell yes' or 'hell no,' but you can take your time deciding. The network will try to rush a decision, but they always do."
The network?
I clasped my hands in front of me. "Okay, so what is it?"
"They want to film a big special," Lydia said. "Reality show style, you know, but it's not a full season so it's a pretty small time commitment. They're filming in Los Angeles after the holidays. It's going to be a rapid elimination-style competition between restaurant owners, for a cash prize. Pretty simple, with Chef hosting -" she gestured at Max, as if she could be talking about anyone else "- and I guess they've got room for one more. They're hoping for someone to 'soften' the whole thing. And your name came up."
"Just 'came up,' huh?" I said, glancing at Max. He was looking at the floor.