9. Journey Men
Since returning to my hometown, I’ve been living in the house I grew up in. My Uncle Todd, my father’s brother, couldn’t bring himself to sell it after my parents died. Todd was a man of contradictions—there were times when a little softness from him could have made a world of difference. Yet in his own way, and when it truly counted, he showed his love—like keeping this house just for me and the family he hoped I would one day make.
Jeremy, having blown into town last week, has been lodging at Steve’s place. He would have preferred to stay here with me, but he’s here to look after Steve, which makes it all the more disappointing that Steve didn’t show up with Jeremy to see me off like he promised.
My flight to New Orleans is in four hours. That’s where the Head Chef World Domination competition is being filmed. It’s supposed to be a grueling production schedule, lasting somewhere between eight and twelve weeks. I don’t want to go that long without seeing Gina, but what am I to do? I can’t back out now. But there’s something worse that could happen with me being gone for so long, and it has to do with Steve, who isn’t here like he should be.
For my last meal with Jeremy, I made something special—our favorite, Oysters Rockefeller, accompanied by spinach and parmesan risotto.
“Damn,” Jeremy murmurs, his eyes closed as he savors each bite. “This is like music to my mouth.”
His lighthearted approach to the moment irks me, especially considering the circumstances. I’m on the verge of expressing my frustration about Steve’s absence yet again, when my phone dings with an incoming message.
I glance at the screen. “It’s Steve,” I announce, my frown deepening so much that it adds to my headache. “He’s in Atlantic City.”
“Ah, hell.” Jeremy blows out a breath, leaning back in his chair, his demeanor dimming as he fully grasps the situation. The realization of what can happen when Steve is left unsupervised seems to finally hit him.
Rubbing my temples, I try to ease the tension headache building from the stress. Yet despite the unfolding chaos with Steve, I find my usual readiness to lash out dampened by the lingering bliss of my night with Gina. Her taste, her touch, the intimacy we shared—it’s all still vivid, casting a glow over everything else. Steve’s reckless escapades in Atlantic City can’t completely erase this serene afterglow.
“He’s a grown man,” Jeremy mutters after a while, perhaps more for his own reassurance than mine.
“Yeah, but he’s our cousin,” I counter, feeling the full gravity of those words.
A heavy silence follows my statement, underscoring the magnitude of the situation. The weight of our shared history, of our responsibility toward one another, feels heavy. Jeremy, Steve, and I—we’ve looked out for each other since childhood. Steve often bridged the gap between his father and me, stepping in to look after me when needed. The thought solidifies my resolve; I owe it to him to return that care, no matter the cost.
“Shit,” I mutter, the importance of the situation pressing down on me. “Maybe I should call the show and back out.”
“The hell you will,” Jeremy counters, his determination clear. “You’re going. I’ll handle Steve. Unless…” His expression shifts to one of speculation. “This hesitation isn’t really about Steve, is it?”
Jeremy raises his hands in a gesture of peace. “Hey, I get it. She’s the kind of person who could make you reconsider everything. I just wish she wasn’t into you.”
I give him a pointed look, half-joking, half-serious. “Keep your thoughts—and hands—to yourself while I’m gone.”
“So, are you and Gina officially an item now?” Jeremy asks.
Jeremy’s probing question sends a wave of anxiety crashing over me. The truth is, I’m navigating uncharted waters here. My passion for cooking has always been my primary focus, relegating any form of human intimacy to nothing more than fleeting encounters. Genuine companionship, the kind that goes beyond the physical, has never been part of my repertoire. Until Gina, I hadn’t been with the same woman more than twice, or maybe three times, let alone experienced anything like the intense, all-consuming connection I felt with her last night. The depth, the slow burn, the reluctance to part ways—it was unfamiliar territory. Was that love? I’m not even sure.
“Are you two together now?” Jeremy presses, snapping me back to the present and nudging me toward an answer.
“I don’t know,” is all I manage, feeling the weight of uncertainty as I rub the back of my neck.
Jeremy doesn’t let up. “Do you like her?”
“Of course.”
“She knows you’re leaving?”
“Yeah.”
“What did she say about it?”
I pause, leaning back and fixing Jeremy with a wary look. “Why the interrogation?”
He chuckles, shrugging it off. “Just curious, that’s all. I mean, I would’ve appreciated a heads-up that you two have been together for quite a while, but don’t worry, man. I’d never step into something you’ve got going on. You know that.”
I nod, reassured by his words. “I know that.”
“However,” Jeremy continues, his tone shifting as he raises a finger for emphasis. “The moment you decide you’re not pursuing that route anymore, give me a heads-up. I wouldn’t mind trying my luck with her again.”
I’m left speechless by his audacity, my emotions fluctuating between irritation and disbelief. Before I can gather my thoughts, Jeremy bursts out laughing, clapping his hands in amusement.
“You should see your face,” he teases, barely containing his amusement. “Man, you’re in love with her.”
Despite my instinct to deny it, I find myself unable to outright refute his observation. “I feel things for Gina,” I concede, a mix of confusion and realization in my voice. “I have deep feelings for her. But whether this is love or just another form of addiction, I can’t say for sure.”
The laughter fades from Jeremy’s face, replaced by a look of earnest concern. He understands the journey I’ve undergone to arrive at this point, the battles fought to stand here, perhaps not entirely whole, but certainly less fractured than before. Leaning in, he plants his elbows on the table, ensuring we’re eye to eye, signaling the gravity of his words.
“Don’t worry about Gina,” he begins, his voice steady and sincere. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you and my hands to myself. I promise. I’ll also take care of Steve and make sure he doesn’t lose his shirt at the casino. Your only focus should be on winning that competition. Because Randy, you’re an exceptional chef and an incredible cousin. And when you’re ready, you’ll be an amazing partner for someone. Especially for a woman as remarkable as Gina. She’s exactly the kind of person you deserve.”
Choked up, I rise to my feet, arms out wide, gesturing for Jeremy to stand for a hug. At this moment, I’m embracing one of the two pillars who have kept me from falling apart. Jeremy and Steve are the reasons I’m still standing. They are why I haven’t lost myself to despair. They’re why I’m not crying over missed opportunities and a future I’ve let slip through my fingers.
“I love you,” I say with absolute certainty.
Jeremy responds with a kiss on my cheek. “I love you too.” He then steps back. “Now, go. You don’t want to miss your flight. I’ll handle the cleanup here and then head to Atlantic City to sort out Steve.”
We exchange a final handshake, pull in for a last tight hug, and then part ways—each of us embarking on our separate paths. I’m off to seize a career-defining opportunity, and Jeremy is off to save Steve from himself.