Chapter Twenty-Two #2
She probably wasn’t, seeing as it wasn’t even midnight, and Ardena had been busy enough on the weekends to keep the staff there well past close.
But so far, my birthday had been just about perfect, and I didn’t want to be reminded of how much I missed my old job by walking in there.
Didn’t want anything like sadness to touch the fizzy joy popping throughout my body that had nothing to do with the drinks I’d had at dinner.
Not tonight.
“Let’s just check,” Evan said. He yanked me through the front door, and I held my breath as the familiar colors, scents, and hum of the restaurant crashed around me.
It was quieter than I expected. Instead of the low murmur of conversation from dwindling late-night tables, the dining room itself was empty, and the conversation was concentrated around the group hanging around the far end of the bar.
Through the jumble of bodies, I spotted Jase in his chef coat, a full pint glass in hand, with Zack leaning next to him on the bar, taking a beer bottle from Neela as she laughed with the new prep chef.
A shift drink.
I jerked to a stop, slipping my arm from Evan’s hold. He glanced back at me, brow creased.
“I’m going to wait outside,” I said, voice already shaky. It was too much. Seeing not only the job I’d left behind but the family too.
I hadn’t lost them lost them, but I’d lost this.
The familiarity of being part of the crew.
The simple knowledge I belonged instead of questioning whether I still had a place like I questioned right now.
Wondering whether I’d ever be part of a shift drink again if I didn’t accidentally wander into it.
I felt like an outsider, an intruder. A stranger in the place I used to call home, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t.
Evan’s shoulders sank. “Aubrey.”
“Aubrey!”
Shit.
I ducked behind Evan to wipe the stray tear from my cheek before plastering on a smile for Jase. Before I could get a word out, Zach was in front of me, clasping me in a bear hug and spinning me off my feet.
“Happy birthdaaaay,” Zach said, half singing, half shouting the words.
“She’s had two strawberry margaritas,” Evan warned, “so the spinning might be dangerous.”
“Oh, hell yeah,” Zach said as he put me down. “That’s my girl, hitting the party before the party.”
I gave a weak chuckle as I waited for my vision to catch up with me.
“Yeah, well—” The room stopped spinning, and my gaze landed on a birthday banner above the drink well.
To the right of it, Luis backed out of the kitchen with a cake in hand.
“Wait.” My heart took off in my chest, and I glanced at Evan.
He smirked.
I took in the banner, the cake, the group of people all gathered, and gawked at him. “You did this?”
“I helped,” he said, taking on a slightly reluctant tone. “It was actually Gabe’s idea.”
As if summoned by birthday magic, Gabe pushed through the kitchen door, wearing a dark green cargo shirt over a black tee with dark jeans and carrying a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
His eyes caught mine across the bar, a smile bright in their depths, and the grand finale of a fireworks show went off in my chest.
“What are you drinking, birthday girl?” Neela called to me.
“I heard margaritas,” Neela’s girlfriend, Robin, said. “That calls for a round of tequila shots, yes?”
Zach and a bleached-haired guy with glasses I assumed was his boyfriend high-fived over Luis’s head, who was already arguing with Neela about which tequila she should pour.
Evan nudged my shoulder to guide me toward the bar and into a wave of hugs. Dani hopped off her stool to give me a tight squeeze. “You look beautiful, as always,” she said.
Luis acted unusually shy as I approached, gesturing to the round layered cake covered in chocolate frosting. “I’ve been practicing on dessert station, but this was my first time making this recipe. I hope it’s okay.”
Evan leaned in to whisper, “It’s your grandma’s yellow cake.”
My jaw hung. “How?”
He half rolled his eyes. “I told Gabe where to look for the recipe in your apartment. He texted a picture.”
All of Gabe’s texting this morning—he’d been texting Evan? For me?
I searched for him again but found Jase first, waiting quietly at the end of the bar. He grinned. “Happy birthday, Chef.”
I stepped into his hug and held it, not sure why I was suddenly ready to cry. Then he spoke his next quiet words. “We miss you, you know.”
I tried to laugh, but it caught in my throat, mixing with the tears that had risen. I squeezed Jase tighter, afraid to let go, to let him and everything here slip further from my grasp.
“Let’s have fun, yeah?” Jase said into my hair.
I nodded and took one last deep breath, dabbing my cheek as I pulled away.
“Oh, Gabe, before I forget,” Jase said, turning his attention to the side where Gabe lingered. “My buddy Colin boxes. He’d make a good sparring partner if you’re still looking.”
Gabe blinked. “Yeah. That’d be amazing.”
“I’ll put him in touch.”
“Thanks, man.”
Jase nodded, then snagged Evan’s hand and pulled him in for a hug. I stepped out of the way to give them space and found myself in front of Gabe.
The rest of the room faded into the background as all my senses fixated on him. My body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at having him so close, like his looming presence was a shelter I could rest under, a safe place to let go. And not just with sex.
“You and Evan, huh?” I asked, hooking my fingers together so I didn’t reach for him. We’d touched in public before, but not around people we knew. People who would ask questions that were easier not to answer. And not when I wanted it to be real this badly. “How did that happen?”
He watched my hands, a soft smile on his lips. “Simple. We both wanted you to have a good birthday.”
It wasn’t just a birthday they had given me. It was a piece of myself I’d been too afraid to ask to keep. That feeling of connection with these people he’d helped bring together for me. A connection he’d known I needed.
I swallowed and met his stare. “It was one of my best,” I said honestly, my heart aching with gratitude and love. For them. For him. For this place. “Thank you.”
He reached out and brushed a strand of my hair. A whisper of how he’d played with it this afternoon in the garden. It was the only touch he let himself have.
“Anything you want,” he murmured, “it’s yours.”