9. Avery
9
AVERY
I 'm very proud of myself because today I managed to wait until I got to the car to break down and cry.
I thought I’d hit the apex of how poorly he could treat me, but Henri is as unpredictable as he is cruel. Somehow, he manages to be even worse on the days I meet with my teachers.
This is only the first week. You haven’t even met with all your teachers yet. He’s bound to get tired.
Every atom in my being wishes that were the case, but a nasty feeling in my stomach tells me this trend is likely to continue.
I hate that I had to tell him the start date of my session at Age Gap Academy, but I didn't have any choice. The kitchen needed to be staffed appropriately, so he had to know.
I just wish I knew what it was about me that he hated so much. I'd change it in a heartbeat.
I tried responding with gratitude at every harsh criticism he threw my way.
I tried anticipating his every question and need.
I tried making myself invisible.
Nothing worked.
Mia says he's jealous of me, but I can't see why he would be. He has a partner to help him with the kids, is so well off he can afford multiple vacations a year, and was trained as a chef at Le Cordon Bleu.
If that weren’t enough, he’s the undisputed king of the kitchen here. He’s got unchecked creative freedom.
Okay, Mr. Macklin has to approve it, but he never says no to Henri.
Ever .
Why the hell would he be jealous of an overworked, underpaid, single parent with hardly any social life?
By the time I get to campus, I’ve managed to stop crying, but a glance in the rearview mirror tells me I look like crap.
And that is exactly why Henri does this. He wants you off your game so you’ll fail.
That thought has me reaching for the emergency makeup I keep in my center console. I didn’t let Kyle get away with it, and I’m sure as fuck not going to let Henri get away with it, either. He can think he’s wearing me down all he wants. That’s just going to make it even better when I slip out from under his nose to somewhere he can never get to me again.
Just a little more color corrector. Now the concealer. And just a smudge of liner.
Perfect .
All the evidence of my hard day at work is gone, and I’m good to go in. Sure, I’m ten minutes late now, but it’s better than going in looking like I’ve got double pink eye.
A glance down at my phone tells me that I’ve got two missed calls. I don’t recognize the number, but it’s probably Mr. Murphy asking where I am.
No sense in calling back now. It’ll be easier for you to just walk in and apologize.
When I get to the door, I pause and take a breath.
This time, I won’t be walking in unprepared. I did some internet sleuthing and found a picture of him online at some food event with Wesley and Phillip. He’s the textbook embodiment of the term ‘silver fox’.
Just seeing a picture of him—all three of them, really—sent my brain into some very inappropriate fantasies that I may or may not have indulged in.
Okay, fine. I definitely did.
Now that I know what he looks like, though, I’ll be able to keep those fantasies tucked away in my head and maintain control of myself until I get home.
I know that’s breaking the promise I made to myself, but no fantasies is as unrealistic as my giving up being a pastry chef.
Besides, anything I do in the privacy of my bedroom is no one’s business but my own.
More importantly, it’ll keep you focused on your coursework and out of mischief during class time.
I visualize stuffing all those fantasies in a closet and locking the door.
No more stalling, Avery. Time to go in.
I realize when I walk in that I should have looked up all my teachers before I met them. The prickle of attraction is absolutely still there, but since I knew it would be, I had better control of my reaction.
There’s no staring or double-takes. Most importantly, when my mind starts to drift off to the fantasy place, it’s much easier for me to force myself back into student mode.
“I’m glad you made it.” He smiles, and I feel my knees go weak. “I was starting to worry. I’m sure you already know, but I’m Jamie. Please come in and have a seat.”
His voice is going to live rent free in my head for the rest of my life. It’s deep and sultry and he’s not even trying.
Girl, breathe. He’s just a man.
“I appreciate your patience,” I say, taking the seat he offers me. “Things ran late at work, and I left as soon as I could.”
Liar.
So what if I am? Isn’t that better than “I had to redo my makeup to look normal because my head chef made me cry again?”
Fair enough, the judgy voice concedes.
“I imagine that’s a hazard of the job. You’re the executive pastry chef, right? I think that’s what Wesley told me the other day.”
Why don’t you stab me in the heart? That would hurt less.
“One day, I’d like to be. Right now, I’m just a regular old pastry chef—or one of them, anyway.”
“Is that the usual way of things? Just having a pastry chef, I mean. At Wesley’s company, he has an executive pastry chef that he works with, then they each have sous chefs reporting to them. Do you not do that where you work?”
We should, but Henri is a power-hungry tyrant who needs to micromanage everything.
I smile wryly. “Our head chef at Brookside tends to have a more hands on approach, but I think they did things that way before he was brought on. That’s part of the reason I’m here, actually. I’m hoping that Wesley will be able to train me up so I can qualify for an executive pastry chef or sous chef position at another company.”
“What about Phillip?”
“Excuse me?”
“What’s your goal there?”
“I’m looking to get better at marketing my brand. I have a decent online presence but I’d love to expand. Someday, I want people to be coming to whatever venue I work at next because they’re in love with my style and just have to have my desserts at their event.”
I flush a deep red under his intense stare.
“I guess that’s silly, isn’t it?” I shrug.
“Not even a little bit,” he says firmly. “Ambition isn’t a sin, Avery.”
That statement resonates through me so hard it makes my breath hitch. Rationally, I know that’s true, but it’s hard to accept after a few years of being told you’re “uppity” and “too big for your boots.”
“It is alright that I call you Avery, isn’t it?” he asks, concerned. “I assumed it would be since you have that arrangement with Wesley and Phillip, but I realize now that I shouldn’t have made that assumption.
“Generally, I prefer to be on a first name basis with my students, but If that’s not something you’re comfortable with, we can?—”
“It’s not that,” I say, finally finding my voice. “I was just surprised by how direct you were. Most people tend to beat around the bush instead of getting straight to it.”
“I do tend to be fairly blunt.” He rests his chin on his hand thoughtfully. “I’ve never really seen the point in dancing around a sentiment when I can just get straight to it. Hopefully, that won’t put a damper on our working relationship.”
“I prefer people to be direct, honestly.” I laugh. “That’s probably why I ended up having the best friend that I have. She feels the same way as you do.”
He gives me a small smile. “She sounds like my kind of woman.”
Just like that, I’m seeing green.
Seriously, Avery? Get your shit together. He’s your teacher, not your boyfriend.
“Let’s get back to business, shall we?” he asks after a minute of awkward silence. “From what I’ve read in your file, you’ve got a little boy waiting on you at home. I don’t want to keep you from him longer than I have to.”
“I appreciate that.”
“We talked a bit about your goals with Wesley and Phillip for this session, so all I need to complete the puzzle is what you want from me. So, what do you want?”
Whatever you want to give me.
Not the time, Avery. Focus.
“I want to be the best. Top of my field, if I can manage it, and I think knowing the ins and outs of how businesses work will give me a more solid perspective of exactly how the culinary and back of house stuff functions. If I know that, I’ll have a better grasp of how I fit in the grand scheme of things. That and it’ll give me a leg up over other candidates for the positions I’m looking for.”
“You don’t want to start your own company?” he asks, raising his brows.
I shrug. “Maybe one day, but starting your own business is a pretty large gamble and it’s not something I’m willing to attempt when my son is this little. I love when I get to meet with clients. The day to day of working in the kitchen and being part of a team is something I’ve always loved. I want to know the big picture, but I’d be perfectly content being the ruler of my tiny pastry kingdom at a venue or company with a less, uh, temperamental chef.”
“Ah, so I take it your current head chef is a bit of a drama queen, then?” His voice is neutral, but the twitch at the corners of his mouth gives him away.
“You could say that, yes.”
“Okay.” He nods. “I think what will work best for you will be our business management certificate. It’s an accelerated program—four months instead of six, but I think you’re up for it. What do you think?”
“In a traditional setting, I think I’d be more wary of it, but with one-on-one work instead of a giant class, I think it’s more than doable.”
“You just summed up the whole foundation of AGA without even realizing it.” He smiles. “We haven’t been around for a decade yet, but we already have an exceptional reputation because of that one-on-one style.”
“We?” I cock my head. “Are you on the board or something?”
“No. Absolutely not,” he says quickly. “I have too much on my plate as it is to be running this place too. I was just one of the first three teachers they hired on. They weren’t even established yet before they reached out to see if I’d be interested, and I really liked the idea. I’ve learned a lot hopping around from business to business. Figured it was time to help mold the next generation.”
“Who were the other two?”
“I’m sure you can guess. We usually come as a package deal.” At my confused look, he says, “Wesley and Phillip, of course.”
“I didn’t realize you were that close.”
“Like brothers, really. We met at a Pi Kappa Alpha fundraising event. Phillip and I were alumni and Wesley was an active member. We’ve been inseparable since.”
“What was the fundraiser?” I ask.
“We were doing a charity war with Alpha Delta Pi—our sisters. They chose a women’s shelter and we picked the busiest local soup kitchen.
“Well, the active members picked. The alumni were just there to donate and get bragging rights if we won.
“There were several events on campus for the active brothers and sisters the week prior, and everything culminated with a massive gala—with an auction, of course.”
“I thought it was all just drinking and wild parties.”
“Well, we had to fill our daylight hours somehow,” he says dryly.
We end up spending another hour just talking. I don’t think either of us realized how late it had gotten until I get a text.
Mom—Little guy finally fell asleep. You okay?
Me—Meeting ran late. Leaving now. Sorry.
Mom—All good. See you soon.
“Everything alright?” Jamie asks.
“Yes. Just my mom checking on me. It’s about an hour after I said I’d be home. She was worried.”
“We went an hour over?” He glances at the window. “How did I not notice how dark it was? Time flies, as they say.”
“It was nice talking to you,” I say, rising from my chair. “I’m looking forward to getting started on the coursework next week. Although if this becomes a habit, I’m going to have to set an alarm on my phone so I can leave on time.”
“Wait. Let me walk you to your car.”
“That’s very sweet, but I’ll be fine.”
“It’s dark. I’m a gentleman. I can either escort you and continue our chat until we get to your car or I can walk five feet behind you in the dark like a creep and maybe get arrested by campus security. It’s your choice.”
“Has anyone told you that you have an incredibly submissive personality?” I ask, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Once or twice,” he says dryly. “Shall we?”
“Only because you’ll follow me if I refuse and I’d hate for you to be arrested before I get my certificate.” I smile.
When we get to my car, he leaves me with a nod and a handshake that sends electricity tingling through my entire body all the way home.
The last thing I want to do is wake Leo up, so I take my shoes off in front of the door and sneak into the condo.
As soon as the lock snicks into place, my mother turns around on the couch to face me. Her face is pinched tight with worry and visions of a sick or injured Leo flood my brain.
I don’t think I’ve ever made it from the door to the couch as fast as I do now.
“What is it?” I whisper earnestly. “Is Leo sick? Did he get hurt? You could have called me and I would have left right away.”
“Honey, no. It’s not that. Leo is in tip-top shape. It’s something else.” She grabs my hand tightly in hers.
“What is it, Mom? You’re scaring me.”
“I wanted you to hear it from me so you weren’t blindsided by it.” She takes a deep breath. “He’s coming back to the States.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”