Chapter 41
Angelos tried to go back to his normal life, but that week with Mia had changed everything.
The light she had shone into the dark corners of his heart had left him exposed and vulnerable.
He no longer craved the darkness; he wanted her light.
He knew what he had to do. He would beg on his knees if he had to.
“ Asteri mou , I’m coming for you.” he whispered into the night like a promise.
- One Week with the Greek
CALLIE
I ’m opening a restaurant. Holy shit!
The butterflies in my stomach were in full flight now, batting their wings against my ribs.
I pinched myself daily. I took a deep breath and stared out the window.
It was a gray, drizzly summer day in London.
The streets outside were bustling with people: Londoners on their way to work, tourists taking selfies in front of the double-decker buses.
It was hard to believe that a few short weeks ago I was sipping frappé under the Mediterranean sun.
If it wasn’t for the dull, persistent ache in my chest when I thought of Nikos, I might have believed it had only been a dream.
Coming back to the real world had been a shock; I wasn’t prepared for the crowds or the noise or the frenetic energy of the city.
I almost wondered at first if I had caught the island curse.
I still felt tethered to it by an invisible string.
When I looked up into the sky, I found myself searching for the constellation Lyra, wondering if Nikos was looking at it too.
But there was too much light pollution, too many clouds blocking out the stars, and eventually I gave up looking.
I’d put away my copy of One Week with the Greek , but occasionally my eyes would catch on the creased spine. And I wondered if I’d ever read it again without thinking of him.
I still thought of him constantly, so much in fact that I was even conjuring up visions of him here in London. Just this morning I spied a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair in the park. My breath caught and I closed my eyes, but when I opened them, he was gone.
It was silly to think he’d be here. With his agoraphobia, it was an impossible trip to make. And, after all, I had told him to forget me. I’d impulsively changed my phone number so he couldn’t call me, which I immediately regretted, but it was too late to get the number back
Why had he listened to me? It was so out of character for him.
Usually, he preferred to thumb his nose at me, to do the opposite of what I asked of him.
And hadn’t he learned anything from One Week with the Greek ?
If he had really done his research in romance novels, he’d know that he should show up on my doorstep and beg me to come back.
This wasn’t a romance novel though; it was real life. And in real life, even if you went tumbling deeply, madly in love with someone, it didn’t always work out.
I couldn’t have it all. I’d made the choice to focus on myself for once.
“Calista!” A tapping on the window brought me back to reality. Anne-Sophie Granger stood outside, a phone in one hand and a paper cup in the other. I opened the door for her.
“My God, you look gorgeous. All glowy and sun-kissed.” She gave me two cheek kisses. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Please.” I made space for her. She may have been superficial in a lot of ways, but she had proven to be stand-up loyalist where I was concerned.
She was the reason I’d gotten the head chef position at the restaurant.
I’d contacted her just days after coming back to London in full panic mode after checking my bank account.
It was humiliating to admit to her that I no longer had a restaurant in Greece, but she’d been understanding.
“Oh, darling, I know already,” she’d said sympathetically. “Gazzer, that self-absorbed cunt, is trying to blacklist you. Gawd, I can’t believe I ever shagged him.”
“I didn’t realize you’d dated.”
“If you could call it that. Our families have known each other forever. I was desperate for Seth and ended up shagging the wrong brother!” She’d laughed.
“Teenage mistake. Never had an orgasm. He was just absolutely lost down there.” I bit my cheek.
It wasn’t a lie. I did feel like I’d done all the work in that department.
She winked at me. “But I don’t have to tell you that.
Anyway, listen, do you know Carys Llewellyn? ”
Did I ever. She was one of the top female restaurateurs in London and she was slowly but surely building her own female foodie empire in the UK.
“She’s opening a small restaurant, and the chef is taking early maternity leave. She wants to hire another woman. Would you be interested?”
I’d dialed that number like my fingers were on fire. And now here we were, sitting together on the opening night of my new restaurant all thanks to Anne-Sophie. Even Liv had forgiven her.
“Can I see the menu?” she asked, and I turned the paper toward her, nervously biting my fingernail as she looked it over. “The dessert has a name! I love it!”
I hoped she would. It had come to me last night as I put the finishing touches on that dessert. I was struggling with it up until last night when I’d had a eureka moment with some bitter oranges.
The menu told a story—a bittersweet one—about the journey that had brought me here. I’d adapted the menu from what I’d prepared in Lyra because I needed to get it out of my system. It was a story that I had to tell. And the ending, like the dessert, was bittersweet.
I only wished I could have shared it with Nikos. But that boat had sailed.
* * *
“I can’t believe this is happening!” squealed Liv as she hugged me to her, as close as her stomach would allow, that is.
We were in the front of the house following the last run-through with staff before our 7 p.m. opening.
Liv had insisted on documenting it all with her new camera.
“Look at this place. It’s so you , Cal!”
This restaurant may have been small—sixty covers per service—but it was beautiful and feminine and, yes, very me .
When Carys had let me name it, I’d suggested Gypsy, an ode to Stevie Nicks of course, but it was also an aesthetic philosophy.
From the décor to the food—everything represented a mingling of cultures and histories, a crossroads of all the things that had brought me here.
We’d decorated the brick-walled interior with an eclectic mix of mismatched furniture, liberty prints, and enough fairy lights, plants, and candles to think you’d entered a magical kingdom.
It was, in every way, the opposite of the simple white rectangle that Greystone had planned for Lyra.
It was too much. Way too much. And I loved it.
“Wait until everyone sees this place!” Olivia clapped her hands together.
She and Jake had arrived that morning with Levi in tow.
My parents had cut their European tour short to support me as well.
They’d stopped by earlier in the afternoon to wish me luck, and my mom had taken a couple snapshots for the family newsletter.
“Thelma is going to be so jealous when she reads this one!” she cried and gave me a big smack on the cheek.
As far as grand openings went, this one was a quiet affair.
A local photographer was coming and a few VIPs.
But we hadn’t talked it up much in the media or online.
I preferred to grow slowly but surely. Not crash and burn out of the gate.
Carys said she had full faith in me, but that niggling imposter syndrome had once again made an appearance, made worse by the fact that I hadn’t been in a professional kitchen in nearly two months.
I’d only been cooking my small, intimate dinners in Greece.
Memories of cooking my last test menu for Nikos in my tiny kitchen flashed through my mind. He’d approve of the changes I’d made to it, I was sure, because I’d made the flavors bolder. I was no longer playing it small. That in many ways was thanks to him.
And there I went, thinking about him again.
I couldn’t help peeking out into room, feeling silly hoping that somehow, magically, Nikos would be here.
“All right, we’re on!” I announced to my all-female brigade, an amazing team who I knew had my back. We’d be getting more help soon; I’d managed to get my first work visa approved for Ferhana and I couldn’t wait to have her on my team.
The first service passed in a succession of perfectly-dressed plates, each course more beautiful than the last one. My jittery nerves disappeared as I got into the flow, and I felt more like myself than I had in a long time.
As service wound down, Liv and Levi snuck back to the kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice how the servers lingered nearby, shooting lovesick looks at Levi. He really was too charming and good looking, like a young Paul Newman. When he hugged me, they giggled.
“So proud of you, fearless.” He gave me a big, hard smack on the cheek. “That was the best meal I’ve had in . . . well, forever.”
Liv elbowed him in the stomach. “Hey! He’s right though. It was amazing. Jake and I are coming back tomorrow for lunch.”
“You’re leaving?” I tried to keep the disappointment from showing on my face. “I thought we could get a drink—nonalcoholic of course—after I finish.” I knew it would be late, but I really wanted to dish with my friends afterward. But here I was being selfish, Liv got tired easily now.
“I could stay . . .” Levi patted his stomach. “If I take a break now, I could put some more away later.” Liv elbowed him again. “Uh, I mean. All that food, I’m gonna need to make an early night of it. I have to leave tomorrow morning.”
My eyes darted between them. They were acting very strange, probably planning a surprise for me. Neither of them was very good at keeping secrets.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Liv hugged me again before dragging Levi away behind her.
Carys came back and hugged me as well. “It’s brilliant, just brilliant, Callie. I was such a genius to hire you. Everyone’s in raptures.”
The second service went even smoother than the first and that wonderful replete exhaustion started to overtake me at the very end. It was late. Only a couple tables remained to be served their desserts and then I could crash.
More giggling caught my attention, and I turned my head to see the servers staring out the circular window in the door.
“If you don’t slip him your number, I will. He’s fit,” said Sarah, the younger one.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, no one will be slipping any notes to customers tonight, please.”
“Sorry, chef, but if you only saw him, you might be tempted yourself.”
I shook my head and tried not to smile. “Just go see if anyone needs anything else.”
Not a minute later Sarah was back. “Um, chef?”
“Yes?”
“He said he’d like a word with you.”
I sighed, tired to my bones. “Who wants a word?”
“The man we were drooling over earlier.” She blushed. “Sorry about that. We didn’t know. He said he was yours.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “He said he was my . . . what?”
“He just said he was yours.” She smiled as the towel I was holding drifted down to the floor. “Well done, by the way.”
She faded to the background, the whole kitchen did, as I made my way through the door and out onto the main floor.
He was sitting against the wall like the first time I saw him. And like the first time I saw him, his eyes never left mine.
But this time he stood, and in front of the entire dining room, made his way toward me. He moved hesitantly at first then more confidently as an enormous smile spread across my face.
“You came,” I said when he reached me at last.
He nodded, his warm hand gliding up my arm. “It’s not every day the woman I love realizes her biggest dream.”
I inhaled sharply, and he grew blurry around the edges as I fought back tears. “Is this part of your devious plan to lure me back to your island?”
“No, I wouldn’t dare steal you from the rest of the world,” he whispered as he slid his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. “And anyway, I told you, it’s you who’s put a spell on me.”
“And I have no intention of breaking it,” I whispered into his ear as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“I don’t want you to, asteri mou .” His warm lips smiled against mine and I breathed him in, my fingers winding through the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
The first time I saw him, he was a stranger. This time he was mine.