Romance Impossible(81)

And he was. Gone. That was it. No more.

I couldn't admit, not even to myself, how much he still weighed on my mind.

Time passed, so quickly and so painfully slowly, somehow, all at once. I climbed higher on the ladder. I climbed higher than I ever would have, if we'd never met. I could admit that now.

He'd made me better. Just like he said he would.

Every day, he was the first thought in my mind. Every night, I remembered his smile. Someday I would make an effort to forget. Someday, I would give myself the permission to stop loving him, to move on with my life.

But not today.

Not yet.

Just one more night, dreaming of the life I'd walked away from. No - the life I never could have had, no matter what I did.

In my dreams, we're still together.

I was angry with myself. Furious. How much of my life was I going to waste, pining away for men who'd never love me back?

There was no good answer. All I could do was move forward.

Move forward, and dream.





***



THREE YEARS LATER





"Order up!"

I sighed, wiping my brow on my sleeve as I leaned against the counter. The night was finally winding down. Most likely, we'd have nothing coming in but dessert orders, and those weren't under my jurisdiction.#p#分页标题#e#

As exhausted as I felt at the end of every night at this job, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Kitchens were where I belonged. I'd known that since before I could even operate a stove on my own, toddling around my mom's kitchen demanding to help with the preparation of Thanksgiving dinner - the only time of the year she bothered to turn on the stove.

I was washing my knives and drying them, all laid out in a very particular way that Max had once showed me.

Max.

My heart still twisted when I thought about him, and I was starting to think it always would.

"Knock knock," a voice came from between the doors, just as they swung open. A moment later, my boss, Chef Shaw, walked into the kitchen with his arms spread wide. He had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, but I loved him for it.

"Beautiful," he said. "Just what I like to see. A house full of happy customers, and a staff that's bone tired from a day of honest work."

"How can you tell?" I went up to hug him, grinning. "Welcome back, Chef. How was Barcelona?"

"Breathtaking. Same as always. We had a look at a few houses, but I'm not sure yet. It's a commitment, you know?"

"You should absolutely do it," I said. "Now that you've unshackled yourself from this place. Live the dream."

"Do it, Chef," one of my line cooks piped up from behind me. "Chef Jillian keeps this place running beautiful."

"I know," said Chef Shaw. "But it feels so strange to be away. This place was my baby for so long."

I nodded, bringing a stack of plates to the dishwasher. "I know what you mean. I've only been head chef for a few years, and I already feel like it's a part of my DNA. I'm guessing it's pretty hard to switch it off."

"But necessary," he said. "I'm just glad I'm leaving it in capable hands."

"Thank you, Chef." I still wasn't very good at taking complements gracefully, but I did my best. Being the head chef at a five-star restaurant puts you in that habit pretty quickly.

"But I do want to ask you something," he said. "Do you have any plans for Valentine's Day weekend?"

Clearing my throat, I considered this. "Nothing I can't break," I said, because that sounded better than "no."

"Never mind, if you're busy," he said. "I can do it myself."

I immediately regretted my white lie, because Chef Shaw had been married for a dog's age to a lovely woman, someone who deserved his undivided attention on the fourteenth - for once in her life. He'd been working in restaurants for decades, where Valentine's is the one mandatory working night of the year. Mrs. Shaw needed a proper date night. "No, please, by all means," I said, quickly. "It's really fine - I'd be happy to work. Spend the weekend with your wife."

"Thank you, Jill," he said. "But really - are you sure?"

"Absolutely," I said. "What do you need me to do?"

It must be something other than the usual "show up here and work yourself to the bone," so I was naturally curious. If he had me on special assignment, who'd be minding the shop?

"I'd like to send you to a charity food and wine tasting." He watched my reaction. "I've got a few friends who'll be happy to step in here and keep the place running at full capacity, so don't worry about that. The charity's - well, it's pretty important to me. I want to put my best foot forward. Do you remember my mother, Tabitha?"