Chapter 40 #3
I reread that sentence three more times to make sure I got it correctly. What the hell is going on? My knees are bouncing so rapidly from the adrenaline coursing through me that I have to pull my elbows off them so I can continue reading.
I was thankful I had my recorder on because my journalist hand had frozen mid-pen stroke.
“It’s not my passion anymore,” Montgomery admitted. “I took a summer hiatus from the restaurant industry and fell in love with a different kind of life. Baking is all about passion. If you don’t feel it, your food reflects those sentiments. One of those art imitating life situations.”
“And you’ve found a new passion then?” I asked.
“A new dream as I like to call it.” She wore a meaningful grin at the statement. “One with balance, friendship, and a whole lot of love.”
I close the magazine for a moment. There’s no way this is real.
This has to be some kind of sick joke the guys are playing on me.
Like they typed this up and left it in here for me to find, except .
. . the pictures. The fucking pictures. From the first page to the last you can see the transformation in Miller, starting with the photos from that morning at my house and evolving into pictures I assume were shot at Luna’s.
I reopen to see Miller’s hair gradually falling to her shoulders as you move through the article. Eventually, she removes her chef’s coat around the time she reveals she’s leaving the industry. Her tattoos and beautifully bright smile are on full display by the time I flip to the final page.
“Can we expect to find you consulting at kitchens in the Chicago area?”
“No,” Montgomery said with a hearty laugh. “There’s only one kitchen I plan on spending my time in and that’s the one featured on the cover of this magazine.”
Chef Montgomery has never owned her own restaurant or patisserie, so when asked if she had plans to change that, she simply said, “Yes.”
“I feel it’s time to put my own name on my work,” Montgomery clarified.
“I don’t know yet what that will look like, but the biggest thing I’ve learned through my years of consulting is that it wasn’t the type of food that had me excited to wake up.
It was the teaching, the sharing of a craft I love so much.
I’m excited to find ways to continue doing that in a capacity that’s more suitable to my new life. ”
“And what about this new life has you so excited?”
“I’m looking forward to living in one spot.
Having a place to call home. Having my dad close by and being a part of a community that supports me, who I support in return.
Hearing the constant encouragement from the man I love, and I’m equally excited to cheer him on in his endeavors.
But the part I’m most looking forward to is having the opportunity to bake every future birthday cake for the little boy who stole my heart this summer. ”
“How does it feel to know you’re settling down?” I asked.
“I don’t like the term ‘settling down.’ I didn’t settle for anything. I simply stopped running when the two best boys I know caught me.”
We continued the afternoon by swapping stories, her sharing that she was nervous for the new role she was stepping into but felt as if she had all the support from the people who mattered most. She revealed that she had three alternate desserts lined up to be featured in this article, but with her big announcement, she wanted to go back to the basics.
She wanted to showcase recipes that the everyday baker could execute.
“My favorite part of baking is feeding the people I love,” Montgomery said. “I hope these recipes will help others do just that.”
We drank chai tea lattes as we spoke about life, family, and food, and it was the first time I could recall an interview of mine that derailed so wonderfully.
I left our time together with a reminder so many of us in the industry need at times—there’s life outside of the kitchen . . . and it’s beautiful.
I inhale a sharp breath, attempting to swallow down the lump in my throat as I move my attention to the recipes she worked so hard on this summer. Only now, they’re simplified and meaningful.
Banana (Nana) Bread—the one that got me back in my groove.
M&M Cookies—named after my favorite people.
And finally, the one that makes my eyes burn.
Mae’s Tiramisu—for the woman I never got to meet but who raised two amazing men. I hope I follow in your steps by being a fantastic boy-mom.
Closing the magazine, I shut my eyes because the tears are about to free-fall. Dropping my head back on the couch, I try to steady my erratic breathing.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but the way I’ve taken it, Miller is coming back.
She’s coming home .
I exhale a disbelieving laugh at the realization, a stupidly giddy smile living on my lips, because for the first time in thirteen days my world feels right.
“Not too concerned about those wrinkles, I see. Smiling like that.” It’s that raspy tone I love so much. The one that I haven’t heard in far too long.
My lips only curve more as I keep my eyes closed, basking in the knowledge that she’s back.
She’s fucking back.
“You should probably hook me up with some of that skin care, Miller, because I have a feeling this smile isn’t going anywhere.”
She laughs that deep throaty sound and it’s then that I finally open my eyes for the confirmation.
There she is.
Miller is leaning on the partition that separates the living room from the dining room, wearing a forest green dress that makes her eyes infinitely more vibrant. Hair down, tattoos on full display with this strapless number hugging every inch of her body. She looks so fucking good.
And she looks so fucking mine .
I adjust my glasses to confirm I’m seeing this correctly, that I’m not hallucinating after living in my own personal hell for the past two weeks.
But she’s here all right, because it wouldn’t be a Miller Montgomery entrance without her double fisting.
With champagne this time, but still.
“Double fisting again, Montgomery? A little late in the day for your drinking habits, don’t you think?”
Her knowing smile grows. “I’m celebrating.”
“Oh, yeah? And what are you celebrating?”
She holds both flutes up. “I quit my job.”
Just like the first day I laid eyes on her.
Cautiously, I rise from the couch, not quite believing that she’s really standing in front of me or that she might be back for good.
I don’t make it far, needing to take a seat on the arm of the couch because if I get any closer to her, I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing her, and I need the confirmation that she’s here to stay.
“What are you doing here, Mills?” There’s so much hope in my tone, but I need to hear it from her.
She sets the champagne glasses down on a nearby table, nervous hands fiddling. Miller is not a nervous woman, but sentimental moments are out of her comfort zone.
She steps between my open legs, and I hold her hands in mine, taking away that nervous tick.But now my hands are shaking because I’m finally touching the woman I convinced myself I’d never get to hold again.
Miller exhales with a smile on her lips. “You said it was my choice if I wanted to live up to expectations, and I do. But now, the only expectations I’m going to worry about are the ones I set for myself. And the only expectations I have for myself are to be happy and to chase the things I want.”
“And what do you want, baby?”
The term of endearment rolls off my tongue so easily, as if it hasn’t been almost two weeks since I last called her that.
But in my mind, it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I’ve seen or spoken to her.
We could’ve gone years and I still would’ve claimed her as mine the moment she decided she wanted to be.
She holds steady eye contact, so brave and bold while being vulnerable.
“I want to open my own patisserie and teach classes there a couple of times a week. I want to watch as many of your games as I can. I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to live close to my dad. I want to read stories to Max every night before bed. I want to try my hardest to be who he needs me to be. I want to be the one to bake him cupcakes for his first birthday at school and for all his birthdays after that. I want to have more babies with you because you are such an amazing dad. But most of all, I want to be happy and you two make me happy, Kai. And I hope I make you happy too.”
The words tumble out of her mouth, as if she spent her entire drive here rehearsing and needing to say them.
They’re words I’ve ached to hear. A part of me always hoped she felt them, but I’ve been dreaming of the day she might voice them out loud.
She squeezes my hands. “But what do you want?”
Does she really have to ask? It’s the same thing I wanted two weeks ago. The same thing I wanted all summer.
“You. Just you. I want it all with you, Miller.”
Her beaming smile is back. “Just to give you a heads-up before you really make your final decision, I’m currently homeless, jobless, and my van is way past due for an oil change.”
Chuckling, I pull her into me. “I can work with that.”
She slants over me, but before I can kiss her, she stops with her hands on either side of my face. “And I love you.”
My eyes dart to hers.
“I love you so much, Kai. Nothing about me leaving was because of you. I need you to know that. You’re more than enough, more than I could’ve dreamt for.
I loved you before I left, and I love Max and I’ve never felt so much at once that I’m fairly certain my heart is going to give out soon.
I’m only twenty-six, Malakai. It’s too soon. ”
Hand bracketing her jaw, I pull her down. “Don’t worry, Mills. I’ll go long before you, due to my old age and all.”
“That would be best,” she whispers against me, her forehead leaning on mine. “Because if I go first and you meet someone else, I promise you I’ll come back and haunt the shit out of her.”