Chapter Five
Over the next few weeks, Alliyah learned the parts of the restaurant most guests never saw.
Invoices. Ordering guides. Vendor minimums. Inventory counts. Seasonal projections.
The quiet math behind every beautiful plate.
She liked it more than she expected.
There was something satisfying about knowing not just how food moved through a kitchen, but how a restaurant breathed. How one missed order could change a whole service. How one strong system could save an entire staff from panic.
Chef Simone had been right.
Alliyah did see more than the plate.
And for the first time in a long time, she wondered what else she might be capable of becoming.
By the time the new marketing hire arrived, she had almost forgotten to be nervous.
Almost.
She was in the office reviewing the ordering system when Mr. Jay, the operations manager, stepped through the doorway.
“Alliyah, you have a second?”
She turned from the computer. “Yes.”
Mr. Jay smiled and stepped aside. “I want you to meet the new marketing hire. He’ll be helping with slow-season campaigns, wellness events, and community outreach. I told him you’d show him the system when he needs access.”
A man stepped into the doorway behind him.
For one second, everything in her went still.
White shirt.
Caramel skin.
Tall.
That smile.
Not the memory of it.
The actual man.
Standing in her office.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
No.
Absolutely not.
He extended his hand like he did not already know he had just knocked the air out of her chest.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Lewis Hamilton.”
His voice was the same.
Warm.
Easy.
Too alive.
She stood because sitting suddenly felt like giving herself away.
“Alliyah,” she said, taking his hand.
The moment their palms touched, recognition moved through her like heat.
His smile shifted.
Not bigger.
Deeper.
Like he knew.
Like he remembered.
But he did not say it. Not with Mr. Jay standing there. Not with the office lights humming above them and her professional face barely holding.
“Alliyah is one of our strongest line cooks,” Mr. Jay said. “She’s been learning operations, so she can help you with the system when you need it.”
Lewis did not look away from her.
“Good to know,” he said.
She released his hand first.
Professional.
She needed to be professional.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
His eyes warmed with something that made the room feel smaller.
“Nice to meet you too.”
Mr. Jay clapped his hands once. “Great. I’ll let you two get started. Lewis, she’ll show you the basics. Alliyah, just walk him through what he’ll need for campaigns and event planning.”
“Of course,” she said.
But her voice did not sound like hers.
Mr. Jay walked out.
The door stayed open.
Still, the air changed.
Lewis stepped closer to the desk, careful but not hesitant. He glanced at the computer, then at her.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Alliyah busied herself with the mouse. “This is the ordering platform. You probably won’t need full access often, but for events and promotions, you’ll need to understand what we carry, what’s seasonal, which vendors we use, things like that.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She clicked the screen.
Too fast.
A page opened, then another.
She had trained line cooks, prep cooks, servers, interns, and people who swore they knew Excel because they opened it once in 2012. She knew how to explain a system.
But with him standing beside her, all she could think about was a bottle of guava.
His shoulder was close.
Not touching.
Close enough.
He leaned slightly toward the screen. “So this is where you order everything?”
“Yes,” she said. “Dry goods, produce, proteins, specialty items. Depends on the vendor.”
“Specialty items?”
She swallowed. “Caribbean products. Sauces. Spices. Juices.”
His mouth curved.
Lord help her.
“What kind of juices?”
She froze.
There it was.
Quiet.
Simple.
Dangerous.
She turned her head slowly and met his eyes.
He was smiling now.
Not fully.
Just enough.
A private smile.
A memory with teeth.
She could have played dumb.
She should have played dumb.
Instead, she lifted her chin. “Depends on the menu.”
He nodded, like he was enjoying this far too much. “No guava?”
Her heart betrayed her first.
Then her face.
A flicker of surprise. A breath. A soft crack in the professional mask she had been holding with both hands.
So he did remember.
Lewis watched the realization cross her face, and his voice dropped low enough that only she could hear.
“I was wondering how long you were going to pretend you didn’t know me.”
She stared at him.
Outside the office, the restaurant moved on. Plates clinked. Someone laughed near the bar. A cart rolled across the floor.
But inside that doorway, time folded back on itself.
The gas station.
The cooler.
Guava or peach?
Her pulse moved too quickly.
She looked at the screen because looking at him felt like stepping too close to a flame.
“I wasn’t pretending,” she said.
“No?”
“No.”
His smile deepened. “Then what were you doing?”
She finally looked back at him.
“Trying to decide if you were real.”
For the first time, his confidence softened.
Just a little.
Just enough for her to see that her answer had reached him.
Then his eyes dropped briefly to the ordering screen, where the cursor blinked beside the search bar.
He reached past her, slow enough for her to move if she wanted to.
She did not move.
He typed one word.
Guava.
A list of products loaded.
Guava nectar. Guava purée. Guava concentrate. Guava jam.
He looked at the screen, then back at her.
“Well,” he said softly, “looks like we have options.”
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Because suddenly she understood the danger of him working there.
It was not that he remembered her.
It was that he knew she remembered too.
And just as she finally found enough air to speak, William passed the open office door, stopped, and looked from Lewis to Alliyah.
Then to the computer screen.
Then back to Alliyah.
“Guava?” William said, one brow lifting. “Is that part of operations training now?”
Alliyah closed her eyes for half a second.
Lewis turned his head, fighting a smile.
William grinned like he had just discovered buried treasure. “My bad. I’ll just go tell the line we’re all learning fruit today.”
“William,” Alliyah warned.
He backed away, hands lifted. “Heard.”
Lewis waited until William disappeared, then looked back at her.
“Alliyah,” he said softly.
The way he said her name made her forget the open door, the computer, and every professional boundary she had been trying to remember.
“What?” she asked.
His eyes held hers.
“I’m real.”
The room went quiet.
Too quiet.
And Alliyah knew then that whatever had started at a gas station four years ago had just walked back into her life wearing a name.