Chapter 40 #2
As beautiful as it is, this could be used as a form of torture. Going through a heartbreak? Watch your happy friends commit their lives to each other.
Isaiah pats me on the back after it’s all done. “What do you say we go grab a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
Max was a trooper during the reception, taking a quick nap on me during the toasts. Zanders’ best man speech got everyone laughing, and Stevie’s maid of honor speech was sweet and sentimental. The newly married couple had their first dance before the rest of the wedding guests joined.
The sun has set, the string lights over the dance floor giving enough light to see, but dim enough that it’s moody and romantic. Drinks are flowing; the food was delicious.
My brother has taken it upon himself to dance with every single woman here, well aware from the bouquet toss that the only single women here are elderly widows. Regardless, Isaiah makes their nights, spinning them around the dance floor.
“Hey, Max!” Ryan ruffles his hair before clapping me on the back. “Hey, man.”
“There he is.” I clink my glass of champagne with his. “Congrats, Ry. This is amazing, and Indy looks...”
“Breathtaking.” His wistful gaze is locked on the dance floor, watching his new wife dance with his sister.
“You two deserve each other.”
I can feel Ryan watching me, eager to say something about Miller, I’m sure, but I deflect before he gets the chance to.
“Zee,” I call out, waving him over.
Where Ryan will ask me personal questions, wondering how I’m doing, and thinking of ways he can help, Zanders brings humor to our friendship. And right now, I need him giving me shit far more than I need Ryan asking how heartbroken I am.
Zanders knocks his fist with mine. “I promise I won’t bring up how terrible you’ve pitched for your last three starts. And I for sure won’t remind you that you got pulled in the third inning last week.”
I turn to Ryan. “Why is he here again?”
“Married into the family, I guess.”
“You guys had your appointment this week, right?” I ask Zee.
Zanders’ face lights up, a cheeky smile on his lips. Ryan’s proud grin makes its timely appearance as well.
“It’s a girl,” Zanders declares. “And I’m stoked. Did you hear that, Max? I’m finally getting you a new friend.”
Max giggles in my grasp.
“You’re gonna be a girl dad, huh? Congratulations, man, that’s awesome.” I swing an arm over him in a hug.
“Did you know they make little hockey skates with tiny hearts on them? I’m going to get her those.”
Ryan shoots him a knowing look.
“Okay.” Zanders holds his hands up. “Maybe I’ve already gotten them. And maybe I’ve already stocked her closet with designer onesies. Sue me.”
Ryan and I chuckle.
“Do you have a name? I know you had convinced yourself you were having a boy.”
“The name has been picked since we found out we were going to be parents. Boy or girl, this was always their name.” Zanders swings an arm over Ryan’s shoulders. “Just had to run it by this guy first. Which we did at his rehearsal dinner last night where Mr. Unemotional started crying over it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.”
“Her name is Taylor,” Zanders explains to me. “After Ryan Taylor Shay.”
Ryan’s blue-green eyes take on a glossy sheen, but he bites it back. This day has been a lot for him, especially when less than a year ago the guy was a complete recluse, not letting anyone too close.
“Max and Kai!” Indy exclaims, joining our conversation. “I’m so glad you two are here!”
“You look beautiful, Indy. Tonight has been amazing.”
Indy eyes me for a moment, and I can see the questions on the tip of her tongue.
How are you?
How’s your heart?
Are you going to curl up on the dance floor in the fetal position and sob in front of everyone because the girl you’re in love with is off doing bigger and better things with her life than anything you could ever offer her?
Okay, the last one was a bit specific.
Stevie slides in under Zanders’ arm. “My feet are hurting, so if you want to get one more dance in with your baby mama, you better make it now.”
Without a word, the two of them take off towards the dance floor.
“How about you, wife?” Ryan asks. “Can I take you for a spin?”
She smiles at her new title. “Please.”
Indy looks back at me cautiously, as if she doesn’t want to leave me and my son on the outskirts of the dance floor, sad and alone.
“I’ll um...” I look around, trying to find something that can keep me occupied. My attention lands on the portable bathroom. “I’m going to go use the restroom.”
I couldn’t have picked the bar? Or the dessert table? I don’t even have to piss.
“Let us take Max for a dance then.” She takes my son before nodding towards their back door. “And don’t use the portable one. Go use the one in the house.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Kai. You’re family. Our home is your home.” She gives my forearm a squeeze before she takes off with Ryan and Max to dance.
With my friends all occupied on the dance floor, I slip my hands into my pockets, head hanging low as I walk into the house to pretend to use the bathroom. As soon as I shut the back door, the music drowns and silence creeps in again.
Things feel like they did before summer began—me, alone, with my friends happy and in love. Only now, I know what it feels like to have what they have.
I feel equal parts jealous as I do grateful.
Jealous that I don’t have it anymore, that I don’t have her by my side to celebrate the good moments with. And grateful that I had the chance to love Miller, to be loved by her even though I never let her say it.
That’s the part that’s getting me through the dark days, the undeniable gratitude that I had her. Our time together was short, but it was everything.
I linger into the living room, wasting time, and trying to figure out just how long I should be inside. I pace, attempting to keep my mind occupied, when I spot a magazine on the side table by the couch.
And right there, the girl who has haunted my every waking moment is plastered on the cover.
It’s her Food & Wine edition, but that makes no sense. It doesn’t go to print until next week.
I’m eager to touch it, eager to know what the fuck this is doing in my friends’ house. Eventually, I find the strength to pull my shaking hand from my pocket, taking a seat on the couch, and bringing the magazine into clearer view.
Miller looks stunning. Unhappy as fuck, but beautiful nonetheless. She’s standing in her crisp chef’s coat, arms crossed over her chest, hair slicked back, no septum ring in sight. My kitchen is blurred in the background and my stomach sinks at the memories.
Her and my son making a mess, having so much fun baking together.
The team coming over to try her creations.
Us, sliding our bodies together because we finally had to touch each other.
Leaning my elbows on my knees, I stare at the magazine in my hand.
God, she’s impressive. I’m so fucking proud of the girl. As much as I’ve been hurting since she left, the pride I feel hasn’t diminished.
After taking in every inch of the image, my attention finally slides over to the headlines.
Zero-Waste Cuisine Takes Hold.
Six Tips on Poaching the Perfect Egg. I should send those to my brother.
And finally...
James Beard’s Outstanding Pastry Chef of the Year Talks Family, Food, and Changing Things Up.
Without wasting more time, I flip through the pages, looking for the article. I land on it halfway through the magazine.
The Best Things in Life Are Sweet
By Gabby Sanchez
I first met Chef Miller Montgomery in the dimly lit dining room of up-and-coming restaurant, Luna’s (Los Angeles—Chef Maven Crown).
We filled the potentially awkward opening minutes with small talk, both of us easing into the hard-hitting questions, but before I could get to them, Montgomery stopped me, fleeing to the kitchen to pull a baking sheet from the oven.
Returning, Montgomery proceeded to place a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie on the table between us before casually asking, “Should we get started?”
Here I was, sitting across from James Beard’s newest Outstanding Pastry Chef of the Year, with an entry-level baked good offered to me on a small dessert plate.
There wasn’t much that made sense to me that afternoon.
Our interview took place in another chef’s restaurant.
Montgomery was casual and used words that an at-home baker could understand, distinctly unlike any James Beard recipient I had interviewed before.
There was an approachability about the young chef, a relatability that so many long-time professionals lack, but every juxtaposition, every contradiction, disappeared when that chocolate chip cookie hit my tongue.
There are an immeasurable number of good cookies out there, but it’s difficult to make the simple great. Montgomery not only made a simply great chocolate chip cookie, but simultaneously readjusted my scale on which all future desserts will be judged.
I’ll admit, though this article was always going to be written in a positive light, when I walked into Luna’s that early September afternoon, I was skeptical of the reputation Montgomery had earned.
I was positive her name, pastries, and menu magic were that of another overhyped but ultimately underwhelming chef.
But I’m proud to admit that when I left, I did so as a new fan, willing to travel anywhere the star chef is working.
Taking a moment, I quickly look around the living room to see if anyone knows what the hell is going on.
But no one is here with me. With my head back in the pages, I continue to read about Miller’s work history, the internships she did overseas and in the States, the big-time names she’s worked for, but it’s the third page that has my heart beating far faster than what’s most likely safe.
But the most shocking revelation from our time together is when Montgomery admitted with a beaming smile that after earning the top honor in the industry, she’s leaving it all behind.