Chapter 42
CLEMENTINE
Isat on my childhood bed, staring at the ceiling and wallowing in the kind of self-pity that would have made my normally optimistic self cringe. What was I doing with my life? That was the question that kept running through my mind over and over.
I was twenty-four. Fresh out of college and still living at home.
I didn’t have a job. Not yet. Yes, I could work in my father’s restaurant but I was determined to make it on my own.
Did I even want to cook?
I felt like everything was off. Everything I thought I wanted felt wrong. Was I a chef because my dad was? Did I love it enough to deal with the bullshit?
I was spiraling. My last night with Rhett felt wrong.
Not wrong that we did it but wrong that we were both calling it the last night.
Ten years didn’t feel like much of an age gap, but wasn’t it?
If I thought about it in terms of him being sixteen and me being six?
Ew. But in the adult context, it didn’t feel like such a big deal.
But wasn’t it?
What had I been thinking? That I could somehow make it work with a man like Rhett Voss?
That our month-long maybe-but-not-really romance could survive the real world?
I’d been so naive, so stupidly hopeful. This was what happened when you lived an untraditional life, reality eventually showed up to remind you that happy endings weren’t guaranteed.
Rhett Voss was Rhett Voss. Chef extraordinaire. Lady killer. Gorgeous. Experienced.
He was everything I wasn’t.
Maybe that was the appeal. He was the bad boy.
The guy that I couldn’t have and that just made him so much more desirable.
Okay, it wasn’t just the idea of him. It was all of him.
Every glorious inch. I didn’t know how I was supposed to ever go out with another guy now that I had been with someone like him.
Guys my own age were just not it for me.
Honestly, I didn’t think they ever had been.
I’d always preferred older men. Not so much because of their ages, but the maturity level.
Everyone always said I was mature for my age.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Simone’s name flashed across the screen. I groaned just thinking about what she had to say. I liked Simone but she was loyal to Rhett first. I respected that. The friendship we developed couldn’t withstand that.
I considered letting it go to voicemail. But guilt won out.
“Hey,” I said, trying to inject some energy into my voice.
“Clem, thank God you answered.” Simone sounded frazzled. “I’m calling because I’m worried about tonight.”
“Worried how?”
“It’s Rhett. He’s, well, he’s always intense, but today he’s on another level.
His patience threshold is basically nonexistent, and he keeps snapping at everyone for the smallest things.
People are threatening to walk. Saying it isn’t worth it.
They’re volunteers. They’re not getting paid to put up with his attitude. ”
I closed my eyes. “Simone, this has nothing to do with me.”
“I just have a bad feeling about tonight, and I wanted to make sure that after everything that’s happened between you two, you’re still planning to come. He needs you. We need you.”
The question irritated me more than it should have. “Of course I’m coming! Rhett already tried to tell me not to, but he doesn’t get a vote in this. I’m not going for him. He is not the boss. Not in this.”
“I didn’t mean anything—”
“I’m going for my father,” I continued, my voice sharp.
“This soup kitchen is his baby, and he deserves the grand opening he’s been dreaming about.
I’m not going to let Rhett ruin it. He can ruin it for himself if he wants.
That’s his choice. He can be an asshole.
He can choose to be an insufferable prick.
That’s his problem. I’m not going to let him ruin this for my dad. ”
There was a pause on the other end. “Clem, maybe I shouldn’t have called.”
“It’s fine. Look, I promise I won’t say or do anything that will get you in hot water with your boss. I’ll be professional. I’ll stay out of his way. But I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” Simone said quietly. “I’ll see you this afternoon for prep?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
I hung up and immediately felt bad for being so snippy with her.
None of this was Simone’s fault. She was just trying to look out for everyone, including me.
I was sure she knew I was the source of Rhett’s bad mood.
Technically, it wasn’t my fault. It was the circumstances.
We were both stuck dealing with the bullshit media and rumors.
If it was just the two of us that had to deal with the fallout, I would be fine with it.
I could handle a little bullshit, but it was my dad.
My brother. They should not have to deal with any kind of blowback from my impulsive mistakes.
Needing a distraction, I headed downstairs and found Henry in the living room on FaceTime with someone. I could see a pretty girl with curly hair on the screen. She was laughing at something he said.
“Oh no,” I said, plopping down next to him on the couch. “Henry’s talking to a girl. Should I get Mom? This feels like a momentous occasion.”
“Clem!” Henry protested, but he was grinning. He turned the screen away from me.
The girl on the screen giggled. “You must be the famous sister. Henry talks about you all the time.”
Henry groaned and turned the phone so I could see the young woman. She was cute. I could see why my brother was interested.
“All good things, I hope,” I said, waving at the phone.
“Mostly,” she teased, which made Henry laugh.
After a few more minutes of me embarrassing my brother—which was my sisterly duty—he finally hung up. But instead of the usual good-natured groaning about my interference, he looked thoughtful.
“So, she seems nice. What’s her name?”
“Maya. She’s a senior at my school, but she’s going to NYU next year for pre-med.” His expression grew more serious. “I really like her, Clem. Like, really like her. But if I get the Syracuse scholarship…”
He trailed off, and I could see where this was going. Long distance. The challenges of maintaining a relationship across state lines while juggling college and sports.
“Henry, there will be plenty of girls at college. Don’t get too hung up on just one person.
I know you feel like you’re all crazy in love, but you haven’t really been out there.
Your dating pool is your high school. When you go to college, you’re going to meet young women from all over.
You’re jumping out of the pool and into the big ocean.
I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to limit yourself. ”
He frowned.
“What?” I asked.
He shrugged, but I could tell he was disappointed. “That just isn’t what I expected you to say. Like, at all.”
He got up from the couch and headed toward the kitchen, leaving me sitting there feeling like the worst sister in the world.
Any other time—any time before this week—I would have told him that love was beautiful, distance be damned, and if he really liked Maya, he should give it a try. I would have encouraged him to follow his heart, to believe that good things could happen to good people.
But instead, I had let my own romantic disaster poison my advice to my little brother.
I gritted my teeth, angry at myself. I would not let this turn me into some bitter, cynical person. I would not become dark and stormy like Rhett, letting past disappointments color every interaction.
No way.
Standing up from the couch, I marched into the kitchen. Henry was trying to taste test the pumpkin pie cooling on the counter while my mother swatted him away.
“Hey,” I told him. “I’m sorry about what I said. That wasn’t fair to you or to Maya.”
He looked up and shrugged. “Whatever.”
“The truth is, if you really like this girl, you should give it a shot. Long distance is hard, but it’s not impossible. And you’re both smart, capable people who can figure it out if you want it badly enough.”
A smile slowly spread across his face. “Now that sounds more like my sister.”
“Yeah, well, your sister had a momentary lapse in optimism. It won’t happen again.”
He pulled me into a hug. “You okay, Clem? You seem different since you got back.”
I hugged him tightly. “I’m fine. Just adjusting to being home.”
It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either. I was adjusting to the idea that sometimes things didn’t work out the way you hoped, but that didn’t mean you stopped hoping altogether.
“I’m going to find Dad,” Henry said.
Mom looked up from the sweet potato casserole she was making. “Want to talk about it?”
I sighed. “No.”
“Clementine.”
I sighed and went to sit at the kitchen island, watching her hands move expertly as she prepared the casserole.
There was something comforting about watching my mom cook.
She didn’t cook like me or Dad. She made her meals from the heart.
Her food was amazing. I sometimes wondered if she got upset that Dad seemed to get all the glory.
“It’s complicated, Mom.”
She glanced up at me, her expression soft but knowing. “Most things worth talking about are.”
I picked at a loose thread on my sweater. “It’s Rhett.”
She nodded. “Yes, your father told me.”
“I bet he did,” I muttered.
“I’d like to hear it from you. Tell me your side.”
“I really liked him. Like, really liked him. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” The words came out in a rush. “But it doesn’t matter because it was never going to work anyway.”
Mom set down her spoon and turned to face me fully. “Why not?”
“Because it’s just infatuation, Mom. I mean, what do I really know about relationships?
About love? I’m twenty-four and I’ve never had anything serious.
This was probably just me getting swept up in the excitement of being in different cities, working with all these incredible chefs.
He’s older, experienced, successful. Of course I was attracted to that. ”
She was quiet for a moment, studying my face. “You don’t sound convinced.”
I wasn’t. That was the problem. Even as I said the words, they felt hollow. What I had felt with Rhett hadn’t felt like a crush or infatuation. It had felt real and deep and terrifying in the best possible way.
“It doesn’t matter what it was,” I said. “It’s over now.”
“Is this about the press coverage?” Mom asked gently. “Your father mentioned there were some articles.”
My stomach clenched. “You saw them?”
“A few. Nothing too scandalous, sweetheart, but I can imagine how overwhelming that must have been.”
I buried my face in my hands. “Mom, they were calling me his ‘mystery woman’ and speculating about our relationship. There were pictures of us together, and people were commenting about his family, his past. It’s awful. Dad wasn’t happy.”
“Your father will be fine.”
“It’s not that Dad is unhappy, it’s the fallout.”
“You’re worried about how that might affect tonight? The soup kitchen?”
I looked up at her, feeling tears prick my eyes.
“Dad has worked so hard on this project. It means everything to him. The last thing I want is for my drama to overshadow what he’s trying to accomplish.
What if reporters show up tonight looking for a story about me and Rhett instead of focusing on the charity work?
What if this becomes about gossip instead of helping people? ”
Mom came around the island and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, honey.”
“I can’t be the reason Dad’s dream gets turned into some tabloid circus,” I whispered against her shoulder. “I won’t be.”