Chapter 21
Joelle
Connie comes back into the living room, shaking a bottle at me.
“This one okay?”
I don’t even look at the label.
“Looks like wine to me, which means yes,” I tell her, raising my empty glass in a toast.
Because really, what’s a girl supposed to do when her lovers bail on her? Get drunk with a girlfriend, that’s what.
Connie maybe doesn’t exactly count as a girlfriend, but she’s the closest thing I’ve got. And right now, sitting in her toasty warm apartment on the world’s softest microfiber couch with a big fat handcrafted comforter wrapped around me—right now’s a pretty nice place to be.
The bottle of wine we just killed might have something to do with that, but to hell with it. Tonight, I’ll take all the comfort I can get.
“So is one bottle enough to get you to tell me what happened with the boss man, or should I wait ‘til this one’s gone too?” she says, pouring us each a fresh glass.
I take a slow drink.
“If you’ve already heard about it, then you know what happened,” I say, sullen.
“Honey, I heard restaurant gossip. That’s about as far from facts as watching cable news the day before an election.” Connie snorts, amused at herself. “For all I know, Elliot could have been kissing the beer guy. Although, that’s kind of hot, now that I think about it.”
“It wasn’t the beer guy,” I say. If Elliot’s going to be kissing any guys, it better be Alex. And ho, boy, I am not ready to have that conversation with anybody else. Plus, Elliot made it pretty clear he’s got a ways to go before he’s ready to even talk about that, let alone get to the kissing part.
Connie’s right, though. The idea of them kissing? It’s hot. Hotter-than-lava hot.
And since I’m sleeping on my friend’s couch tonight and not with either of my boneheaded lovers, I’ve got no business getting this turned on, so I take another sip and force my brain back into the confines of reality.
“He was kissing me,” I confess. “Had been kissing me, anyway.”
“Are you seeing each other?”
“It’s complicated,” I hedge.
Connie laughs. “Isn’t it always?”
I almost spit out my drink. “Um… not usually this complicated.” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Spill it, girlie.”
The stress, the joy, the anger, the anxiety, the overwhelming disappointment—right now it’s too much to keep inside myself. So I tell her the truth.
“I’m seeing him.” Connie starts to cheer and I shake my head. “I’m seeing Elliot. And Alex.”
“Hell yes. Good for you, girlie!” She slaps me on the shoulder.
“Um, I mean, I’m seeing them both. At the same time.”
“You’re my hero, and don’t ever let anybody tell you otherwise.”
I huff at my bangs, frustrated. Why is this so hard to explain?
“I mean, we’re seeing each other. At the same time.” I hate that I can’t tell Connie all of it, but if Alex and Elliot are seeing each other too, that’s not my secret to share. I hope they are, because who am I kidding? The thought alone is hotter than the tallest flames in hell. But I don’t know what’s between them, if anything.
And that’s a whole new mountain of worry I hadn’t considered before today. What if deep down they’re only into each other, and don’t need me anymore?
I shove that thought into a box in the back of my mind. I might need to vent a little to my friend over some wine tonight, but that’s a question I can’t handle. Not tonight. Besides, I’m still furious with them both.
“Are we talking about threesomes?” Connie asks, setting her glass down to look at me. For a minute, I think she’s about to launch into a lecture, but then she actually begs. “Please tell me we’re talking about threesomes.”
I start laughing and it’s a long time before I can pull myself together enough to stop.
“I’m serious. Girl, you better not be yanking my chain on this.” She smacks my shoulder again. “Joelle!”
“Okay, okay,” I say, wiping tears of mirth out of the corners of my eyes. “Sorry. Yes, that’s what we’re talking about.”
Threesomes. Menage. A triad in the making? Maybe.
Connie fans her face with a magazine, grabbing the bottle to top off our still-full glasses. She raises hers in another toast.
“Here’s to you,” she says. “I’m not kidding about the hero thing. My God. Drink up, please. Because if ever there was a time for oversharing, this is it.”
And even after this shitty, shitty day, I’m doubled over, laughing so hard the tears finally fall.
I don’t know at what point they turn to real tears, but it happens in the within a heartbeat. I’m crying now, and I can’t seem to close the floodgates.
“Oh, honey,” Connie is saying, pulling me in for a hug. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re okay. It’ll be okay.”
She holds me like that, hugging me tight the way my own mother used to do when I was little. The memory makes me sob even harder.
I’m not even sure why I’m crying right now. I’m mad at Elliot and Alex both, not sad. I’m mad at my dad too, though I guess that makes me sad too. In the morning, I’ll chalk it all up to the wine and just leave it at that.
Eventually, my breathing slows and Connie lets me sit up when I pull back. She hands me yet another tissue—don’t ask me where that pile on the table came from, because I don’t remember using them—and rubs my back.
“Maybe time to switch to coffee,” she says.
“Don’t you dare,” I say, just to make her smile. It works.
“I’m sorry for all the—for all this.”
“Don’t even think about it. We all need a good cry now and then, even on the best of days, and somehow I don’t think today was the best of days for you.”
“You got that right.”
We sip our wine, just enjoying the easy quiet for a moment.
“I think you’re right about your dad, you know,” Connie says after a while.
“Really?” She nods.
“He’s a lot more capable than he realizes. And I think he’s afraid of what might happen if he tries.”
“You know, you’re the second person today who’s said that to me, about him being afraid. Is it that obvious? Because I sure as hell never picked up on it.” I’ve never seen my dad afraid of anything.
“It’s a parent thing,” she says, half smiling. “Or more accurately, it’s a kid thing. You see your parents one way for most of your life. And then sometimes—not always, but sometimes—you realize they’re just humans too, same as you.”
“Huh.”
“We can’t all be goddesses,” she says, elbowing me until I smile at her.
“And yet you seem to have it down to a science.”
Connie laughs. “I’ll let you meet my kids someday, then we’ll see if you can say the same.”
“I’d like that.” A long moment passes and I sigh. “I think I’m going to have to quit.”
“Girlie…”
“Elliot doesn’t need me anymore.” I shrug. “The new menu rollout is done. Everything seems to be going really well.”
“Better than well,” says Connie. “We’ve done more business the last few days thanks to your menu than any other holiday season I can remember.”
“Well, there it is. I’ve done my job. It’s going to be better for everybody if I bow out now and let him get back to running his business.”
“You mean it’ll be easier for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You think I didn’t hear the nonsense that fool Bertie was spouting? All that crap about him getting passed over because you were sleeping with the boss. Like he’s ever gonna get himself promoted when he whines like he does.”
Bertie is actually pretty damn good at his job, but he complains a lot about being stuck in the kitchen when he really wants to—and I quote—“move up in the company.” I’m all for ambition but considering Elliot’s restaurant isn’t exactly a big operation, I’m not so sure Bertie’s thought it through.
And worse, I’m afraid he’s right. I mean, I wasn’t sleeping with Elliot when he hired me and I have no interest in a management position. But what if Elliot only hired me because he wanted me?
Only that doesn’t make any sense either. It took weeks for him to touch me and even then, Alex had to orchestrate the whole thing.
There it is again—that fear. What happens when Elliot and Alex realize they only need each other? That I’m just the tool that brought them together?
It’s going to tear me apart.
Hell, it’s already happening. Alex wanted to ask me to stay with him today but his loyalty to Elliot was written all over his face. It spilled out in every second of Alex’s hesitation.
I couldn’t stand it. I want them to have each other, but I’m going to end up hating them for not wanting me to share in it, too. And hating them would be worse.
Better to cut and run now, before things get any messier. I laugh, choking back the tears this time, because Connie’s already gone above and beyond the call of duty for tonight. She changes the subject to work gossip and not long after, I’m dozing off before we finish the second bottle. It barely registers when she tucks the quilt around me and switches off the light.
The next morning,I take it slow sitting up, not wanting to push my luck. I’m not much of a drinker, last night excepted. Miraculously, I seem to have escaped with only a slight headache.
Of course, crying always has that effect on me the next day too, so who knows?
Either way, I send my gratitude out into the universe for my reprieve and head to the bathroom to clean up.
I don’t have much in the way of armor for today, but I’m not going back home. Not yet. Dealing with Dad will have to wait.
Hell, if anything, he’ll probably be happy to hear I’m unemployed again.
The thought all but doubles me over in pain. How fucked up is it that he’d most likely celebrate me quitting this job, the job that was my ticket into culinary school? I’ve been talking about being a chef since I was a kid.
Who the hell does he think he is? I mean, I know he’s my dad, obviously. But goddamn it… this is my life. I want him to be a part of it, but is it so selfish to want the rest of my life to be mine?
I wouldn’t know what the hell am I going to do otherwise. No culinary school means no way of getting into a big name kitchen, let alone achieving the long-shot dream of working among the best chefs in the business.
It’s childish of me and I know it, but I let the anger build. It bolsters me, standing me upright again, pulling my chin up and getting me ready for what I have to do next.
I’m not without resources. I’ve got two solid months of good experience working for Elliot James. Even if he won’t recommend me to another restaurant, Connie would. I think some of the other staff might, too. That has to count for something.
All is not lost. At least, not career-wise. As Connie drives us into work, I focus all my energy on remembering that because if I stop to think about what else I’m about to lose, I’ll break in two.